Power of Seven

Hey folks, the Write tribe Festival of Words is getting hotter and hotter by the day. It’s Day Two of the competition and as you all know, I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words (http://writetribe.com), 1st – 7th September 2013. Today, is Day Two of the challenge where bloggers/writers will jot their thoughts, poems and churn out ideas for the festival under the theme, SEVEN. On Day Two of the festival, I choose to write a short story on the POWER OF SEVEN. It’s getting crazier and what are you waiting for? Rack up your brains to be at your creative best during the seven unique days of our blogging life and make it a unique and memorable experience. You will find my story on POWER OF SEVEN BELOW. Have fun in the joy ride during the seven days.



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“You know the power of Seven,” she asked him as she lay scattered all the cards on the table at the coffee shop. There is a huge board hanging at the door of the coffee house, “Today is Sunday and we are in seven month of the year. All our items are priced at 70 rupees.” He ordered two cups of Cappucino and lit a cigarette which he paid for seven bucks. He is intrigued by the power of Seven as he read in the morning newspaper that the latest candy floss romance released by the director, famous for such kind of  movies, made 70 crores at the box office in a week.

The phone beeped. She exudes, “WTF! Mom and Dad telling me that I have to be home by seven p.m today. Listen, let’s play the cards since I gotta reach home by the famous Seven p.m.” The pack contained 20 cards which they evenly distributed and after playing for several rounds, seven cards mysteriously disappeared from the table.  Their eyes accused each other of cheating yet refrained from pointing fingers.  What they were able to say was, “Fuck! Where are the cards?  We just can’t understand what is happening to the missing cards.” Finally, they got fed up and ordered another round of Cappucino and chocolate muffins priced for 70 bucks each.

She checked the time on her cellphone and got off the chair, “Dude! I gotta go and it’s 6 p.m already . I will catch the local train and will reach home at 7 p.m. She hugs him and whispers in his ears, “Beware, the number Seven.” He wondered what’s up with the number 7!

Suddenly, it started raining heavily and he hailed a cab stationed outside the coffee house. He blurted out the destination as the driver sped towards the highway and in seven minutes, they reached the destination. The driver charged him seventy rupees and he stared at him in disbelief. “Shut up! I am not going to pay you seventy rupees for a distance of seven kilometers. As it is, I have only 40 rupees in the pocket.” The driver gave a menacing look and brandished a revolver, “Listen kid! Don’t screw my head, the revolver contain seven bullets and if you don’t give my 70 rupees, the seven bullets will pierce your heart.” He gabbled when he saw the seven missing cards in the pocket of the cab driver, ‘s-e-v-e-n cards!.’ The car driver smiled wickedly, “Oh! The S-E-V-E-N cards that disappeared from your coffee table.” He and shouted, ‘It is the cards of hell and you will never know the power of Seven,” before he pumped the seven bullets that pierced chest of the poor passenger.

He was lying on the back seat of the car, soaked in blood as his eyes remain glued to the seven cards and everything became blurred. All of  a sudden , he heard someone yelling and calling his name but he didn’t respond on his way to hell. He received four to five tight slaps on his face and was shaken up out of his seat.  There was no blood, no gun, no bullets and he was not sitting in a cab. “Wake up, you idiot. It’s 7 p.m and you are already running late for office , his mother stood in front of him wearing a sports Tee displaying the number Seven.



  1. Pingback: Write Tribe : Festival of Words, Day 3 … | Vaayadi Pennu;)

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