Being Bad Is Being Good Read online

  Being Bad Is Being Good

  Memoy Mishra

  Austin Macauley Publishers

  Being Bad Is Being Good

  About the Author

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Copyright Information

  Acknowledgement

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  Three months later

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  Three months later…again

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  Three months later….

  once again

  About the Author

  Memoy Mishra is a student of Class X, The Scindia School, Gwalior, India. Since early childhood, the author has a strong bonding with pen, painting many imaginary tales, short stories, recitals, diegesis, etc. Being fascinated by stories like Sherlock Holmes and The Famous Five, the author has candidly written this piece of imagination during his early stay at boarding school in Class VII. The author’s canvas of thinking fills with infallible faith to be ‘good’. As a child, the author’s message for children is to be ‘someone from no one’.

  About the Book

  “On what slender thread does one’s life hang?”

  Rather than leading a normal life as any kid, he is forced to grow up as a fierce person, serving as an instrument of death, though he hates such a life. He tries to step out but is caught in a tangled mess of problems.

  This piece of work portrays a person who kills much against his will and, eventually, tries to stop, but does he attain peace in his life in the end? Can he become SOMEONE from NO ONE in the end?

  Dedication

  To all my readers.

  Every bit of my imagination is a little bit of your childhood.

  Copyright Information

  Copyright © Memoy Mishra (2019)

  The right of Memoy Mishra to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781528915212 (Paperback)

  ISBN 9781528961158 (ePub e-book)

  www.austinmacauley.com

  First Published (2019)

  Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

  25 Canada Square

  Canary Wharf

  London

  E14 5LQ

  Acknowledgement

  Nobody has been more important to me in this pursuit than my parents, grandparents and family members, whose constant encouragement has created an instinct inside me to be a writer. They are the ultimate role models. I wish to thank them.

  Most importantly, my papa’s inspiration has provided me a broader spectrum – The Scindia School – a place of all opportunities, friends, mentors, teachers and the environment to interact with many eminent personalities and writers. This is really a breeding ground for budding children. I am indebted to its environment, where I have written my imagination, which has come out in this form.

  I sincerely thank the entire Austin Macauley team for extending their support in bringing this book to broad daylight.

  I also wish to express my gratitude to all my readers.

  1

  I reached for the gun in my holster. I had to kill Henry Jake. Henry was a suspect because he had guns and arms trade. I had located him. He was in a motel. He was on move, maybe changing states and then countries. I hired a room in the motel and was scouting the area. It seemed like he was the richest one in the motel. He always had two SUVs and a Mercedes parked in the garage for him, but he rarely used them as he always preferred to walk. I observed that two people would always stay near his room. The same two people were there next day. They were even there the day after. Only once in the day, they would leave at night after 9:00 pm. I made the plan in the motel. I would use a pistol with a suppressor and flashlight mode. I always had my lock-picking tools with me. I had a vehicle arranged for my getaway. Both the guards would leave after 9:00 pm and I aimed to attack them after 9:00 pm. The final day had come. I woke up at my usual time and did all my exercise as I was taught at my organization. I had a giddy feeling in my stomach. I went to a nearby café and ordered a non-veg club sandwich, fries, and coffee. The waiter smiled and, with greedy eyes, said, “10 dollars 50 cents.” I paid him and went to the Highway’s Greenway Park with my takeaway order. I read the café’s name with a dry smile and took out my sandwich. There was something unusual about that day. I was quite fit but still was feeling something unusual about that very day. While eating the sandwich, I went to some of my childhood memories which I would have cherished for the whole of my life. Life had changed since then…

  2

  “Father! Can I buy the water gun which was advertised just now on T.V? Father, please,” the small boy said to his father who was working in his study.

  “No! And knock before you come. Now, run off,” Father said in a gruff and angry voice. The child dropped his face and went outside to play with his friends.

  “Spencer, we need to collect money.”

  “But from where?”

  “Either by hook or crook.”

  “I choose hook.”

  “Well then, fair enough. Let’s get on work.”

  The boy went to the village baker and presented that he would sell all his bread and 40% of the profit was his.

  The baker negotiated and made the boy’s share 20% of the profit.

  The boy and Spencer got on work. After months of hard work, the boy was able to earn enough money for the water gun. He bought it from the market and was playing with it when his father came. He got shocked and asked him from where he got it. He innocently said that he had earned it. Father got suspicious and said, “Stealing ain’t good, lad. Give me the gun eh.
Fast.” He snatched it and threw it to the ground and kicked it. The boy’s cry stopped at no rate. All he wished in mind was why he didn’t have a mother who cared for him.

  3

  It was almost 8:40 pm on the watch. After the walk in the park, I felt nostalgic. My giddiness in the stomach had risen. By 12:25 am, midnight, I started my plan. I wore my suit which had a holster. I quietly slid off the door and left the door open. My half-eaten pizza still lay on the bed. I saw it, got tempted but brain got over heart. I went to Henry Jake’s room. I took out my lock-picking tools and started working. After 5–10 minutes, the door opened with a click. I got inside, ready for anything. I just saw my target sleeping on the bed. There lay the body which I had been assigned to kill. My body was all shaky by now. I brought the pistol out, aimed it but couldn’t shoot. Instead, the gun dropped from my hands with a thud. “Damn,” I thought aloud, which was enough for my target to wake up and sense the alarm.

  He shouted, “Hey!” and started random bullet fires. I flipped a table and ducked in. From the main door came two figures whom I recognized at once without fail. They were firing at their top-most speed and I lay there frozen. Henry Jake ran and came behind them. With the support of the guards, he went outside. I followed him but always went to cover before moving forward. After a few minutes, I realized their intention. The whole motel was running. In the crowd, they wanted to blend in and go escape in their cars. I pushed many people and caught up and ran past everything and got in my car which was initially my getaway. Now, everything had changed and I was in a car chase. I followed the Mercedes in which my target was. The other 2 SUVs kept distracting me. Target entered the highway and the 2 SUVs were ahead of my car and were shooting at me. I also took out my pistol and shot the tire of the Mercedes. When I did this, the SUV driver got baffled on what to do next. I took my chance and sped up to the Mercedes and we both went off-track. His car hit a tree and I got out of mine and went to his. He had come out. We almost pulled out our guns at the same time. But I got the upper hand, because his gun was only a bluff. It had no bullets. He had wasted all his in the motel. I jokingly said, “Any last wishes.”

  He said, “Please look behind.” It was then, I realized the danger. I looked back and was taken aback. All I saw was a truncheon coming at me and I got pinned to the ground. I felt my bones snap and was beaten to a pulp until I blacked out. This was the turning point of my life…

  4

  “Well, well. Now don’t stress yourself,” I heard someone say but couldn’t make out who. I slowly opened my eyes to realize that I was in a hospital. I couldn’t open my mouth to speak. I used all my strength to do so but couldn’t. I could only use my fingers. “I am Dr. Wilbur. You are all fine now. Just regaining your health. A few months and you are good to go. Here’s a T.V. for you, a button to call the nurse, a clock, and a calendar. I’ll come and treat you periodically. Now, I have to go. Clock’s ticking.”

  I couldn’t think how I was here? Who brought me? Where was Henry? Who was Wilbur? What is this place?

  I could only find the answer to the last question. I was in a room which was dark and the walls were not even plastered. I saw the button which was for calling the nurse. I pressed it, and after a while, a lady appeared. She appeared to be wearing a pink dress, had curly hair and blue eyes. She said, “I am Kate, your nurse. I will be providing you with everything food, clothes, etc.”

  “Why am I here?” was all I could gather the strength to say.

  “I have instructions not to tell you.” My sad face was enough to make her leave. I used to keep asking her but she always said, “Authorities have warned me not to tell” or “I can’t say”. I stopped asking her after a few days. I used to never talk to her. Just take food and clothes and go. I had regained some of my health and could walk and talk. So, I was provided with a room. The room was dark, had only one faint light bulb, a table, a chair, a bed, and a washroom. Kate used to bring food and washed ironed clothes for me, and we didn’t talk much. Now all I had was my past memories.

  5

  “Wake up, argh! Lazy bones lying in bed all day.”

  The boy got up reluctantly. He had his regular breakfast which he almost hated as he ate it every single day – toast and cornflakes. He took his football, went out to Spencer’s house. His mother told the boy that he was sleeping as it was Sunday. The boy wondered why his father had woken him up and why Spencer’s father hadn’t woken him up. He went to his other 4 friends but he could play only with 1. Other 3 were busy sleeping. He skipped lunch as he knew his father would have prepared the old recipe. Rice and gravy. At evening, he went to his home. Father gruffly told him to go to his room. After an hour or so, his father came to his room. The boy stood upright as he was reading a comic when his father came. His father said, “Lad, I have decided something for your future.”

  “What?”

  “You are going to St. Stephen.”

  “Anything named ‘St. Stephen’ is not in our city.”

  “Well, you are changing states,” Father said emphasizing on ‘you’.

  “What do you mean by changing states?”

  “Uh, you are going to be in a boarding.”

  “What?”

  “You are leaving a week after.”

  “What about my friends? What about my life here?”

  “Your life is going to change.”

  “No, I don’t want it to.”

  “Well, you have to.”

  The boy protested all that night yet nothing changed. All he thought and felt was that he was abandoned…

  6

  The big board above the gate read in big black bold letters, ‘St. Stephen’. The metal gates looked like prison bars to me. The boy’s father hadn’t even come to drop him. He had sent his servant to do so. He went to the admin building and asked for his details. He was in ‘Shark’s’ house. He was assigned section C of Grade 4. The boy went to his own house, took his assigned beds, wardrobe, and table. The servant said, “Boy, thrive in whatever you do. This is the turning point of your life which will make you the best.” He was indeed correct as the boy soon was going to be ‘Bad Boy’. He took the books and uniforms from the counter. Many children were crying but the boy neither had a mother nor a caring dad to cry for. A few boys tried to mingle with him but none were able to be his friend. He would just say, “Spencer.” He didn’t sleep that first night, not because of his independent living but because parting from his friend was hard for him…

  7

  The boy got dressed up, combed his hair, polished, and tied his laces, set his timetable, and went to school. The teacher came inside the class and said in a fast tone, “Prayer first boys, then introduction.” The children sang their prayer. The teacher started by asking names. When the boy’s turn came, he said, “Adam Miles.” The day went by but Adam didn’t enjoy even a second. He hated the place.

  8

  After some time, Adam decided it was enough. It was do or die for him. He planned to run away. He went to the cafeteria and spent all his cash on long-lasting canned food. He had clothes, food, bag, and water ready with him. He was now going to be free. The minutes went by and Adam’s patience met no bounds. Finally, came the day.

  9

  He climbed the gates, threw his bag to the other side and jumped. He landed with a thud. Now, he had to cross a checkpoint swarming of guards. He picked a few stones and kept it in his pocket. He hid himself behind a tree and threw the stones in front of the guards while whistling. The guards started coming close and inspecting the stones. He took his chance, ran past the guards, and kept on running. He must have run for almost half an hour or so. He stopped and panted for breath. He took his nap under a tree. The next day, when he woke up, he found something in his pocket. It was the letter which he had forgotten to leave in school. It read:

  Dear Everyone,

  I am quite lonely here. Don’t like it here. So, I am going. Dad, don’t search for me.

  Fine by myself.

&nbs
p; Adam Miles

  He started walking to the city from which he had come. He reached the place but had no plans what to do. He saw a big board in which inscribed was ‘Survival of the fittest – Charles Darwin’. He slept that day by the roadside. Next day, he made plans that he would contact Spencer but cancelled it later. The decision he made by the roadside changed his life. He chose to be a pickpocket. He never did it by heart but was forced to do it to fill his stomach. At first, he was caught but then slowly understood the art of stealing. He was not a child anymore, he was a thief… he named himself ‘Bad Boy’.

  10

  Adam was stalking someone. The man went into an alley. Adam was now close to knock that man out. He thought about the bounty reward he would get. Adam was now almost the age of 19. He brought his brass knuckles and punched the man’s back. The man shrugged and ran off. Adam leapt like a leopard and ran with his agile body. Adam jumped on the man and both fell down the ground with a thud. The man said, “Don’t force me to…” The man couldn’t finish his sentence, as Adam had grabbed his neck. The man took out a stun gun and zap! Adam fell to the ground like a cloth.

  When Adam’s eyes opened, he was in a prison cell. There was a bit of food left on the table. He ate it. A policeman came and said, “The man whom you attacked is a sergeant. The court will decide what to do with you. Free you or kill you or tortoise you or prison you.”

  Adam sighed and tried to get some sleep…

  11

  The Judgement Day had come. Will he live or die? That was the question hanging in the air. A constable came to his cell and said, “Your death has been confirmed.”

  “Urgh.”

  The constable opened the door and led him to his execution.

  He was asked his last wish. Adam spat and said, “Tell my father I am coming to meet him in hell.”