Sergeant John was in high spirits. “Can’t believe mom wanted me to become a grocer like dad!” he thought with a smug smile. His last twenty years in the police force had been quite rewarding. True, he had had a lot of transfers to his credit but they had only been pleasant opportunities to expand his horizons. So, here he was, in yet another new town, in search of the novel experiences that had eluded him so far. And tonight was his first day on duty.
“Ready, John?” asked his fellow sergeant George.
“Yes, mate!” John grinned. “I am dying to get started!”
“Well, good luck!” the other cop laughed.
The weather was beautiful. The ink blue sky was lit up with countless stars and a bright moon. John began patrolling, alert as ever, right on the dot. Apart from the occasional screeching of owls and the unmelodic chirping of crickets, there wasn’t a sound to be heard in the quiet hours of darkness. After midnight, satisfied that everything was fully under control, John finally decided to take a short break. So, he entered the nearby post and made some coffee. Just as he was settling down, he spotted somebody lurking in the darkness.
John hollered, “Hello! Who are you? Why are you out so late?” The other fellow stopped dead on his tracks and turned around slowly. Their eyes met for a second. The man looked elderly and drained—like a common beggar except for his eyes. They looked extraordinarily sad, as if full of ancient grief.
“I am the new officer in charge here. Do you want something?” asked John.
The other fellow just shook his head and moved on silently. “What’s your name?” John asked. No answer. “The poor chap seems crazy,” he thought. “Can I call you John Doe? My name is John too, Sergeant John Davies,” he said.
The man glanced at him expressionlessly and shuffled along but John continued walking behind him when he suddenly tripped and landed flat on his face. He had hardly had time to wince when a huge truck zoomed by. Doe was shambling along on the other side, apparently oblivious to all that had just taken place.
The following night, the sky was cloudy and the moon was playing an irksome game of hide-and-seek. Punctual and geared up as usual, John started his round, constantly watching out for Doe. He didn’t have to wait for long. From the corner of his eye, he soon spotted the familiar figure at a short distance. Brushing off the discomfort at the bottom of his stomach, John marched towards the man. Doe, apparently unaware of his presence, crossed the road.
John was about to follow suit when somebody screamed from behind, making him stop. At that moment, a gigantic truck whizzed past, sparing John by inches. He looked up to find that he had lost Doe, once again. Frustrated, he turned around to look at this mysterious savior. The short owlish man standing under a streetlight started, “I see that old John’s been tricking you, John!”
“Well…Hey, how do you know my name?” John asked, baffled. The little man shrugged casually. “The man whom you know as John Doe, for the lack of a better name, used to be called John Brown when he was alive. John was a shoemaker. When the factory closed down, he lost his job. He was reduced to a beggar and one fateful evening, he got hit by a truck and died at this very place.”
“Is this place filled with looney old men?” thought John but instead said, “Do you mean that he’s…a ghost? But George never told me about him.”
“He’s visible only to those named John and they don’t live on to tell any tales. You’re the luckiest John so far!” the man beamed.
“But…It’s not natural!” John argued, suddenly feeling exhausted.
“Maybe, that’s why they call it supernatural,” the small fellow replied with a serene smile.
By now, John’s head had started spinning and he decided to ask no more. “Thanks again Mr.….”
The little man smiled kindly, “King. John King.” John nodded absentmindedly and turned to go. Suddenly, he stopped and wheeled around. “Hey…” he began but there was nobody there. John woke up in his own bed with a severe headache. He rubbed his eyes and looked around curiously in order to take in his surroundings. “Thank goodness! You’re fine!
You’ve been unconscious for the last twenty four hours! Had to carry you back home when you didn’t return in the morning,” George appeared with some coffee and a newspaper. Smiling gratefully, John drank the coffee. Feeling marginally better, he reached for the newspaper and started to read.
A TRAGIC END
Last night, a man was hit by a truck on the road in the outskirts of the town. He was returning home late from work and was called John…”
John put the newspaper down immediately, unable to read a word anymore. His hands felt clammy. His throat went bone dry. His body started to tremble. He decided then and there that he would resign and get out of this godforsaken place.
“So much for not becoming a grocer!” he mused as a few days later a vehicle took him away from the haunted place towards his hometown where his father’s old grocery was waiting for its new owner.
- Nitya Pandey
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