Smitha’s right hand stretched and clutched the golden cross in her golden chain.  Her lips started to say prayers. One of the paintings on the wall showed a lonely stretch of road with some bullock carts and a man riding a bicycle. The branches of the huge tree on the picture sprawled over. For Smitha, it looked like hands of some unknown ghost that slowly stretched out of the picture and tried to grab her by her throat.

 “Oh, Help me, Help me,” with a scream, Smitha started to run on the road. The slight drizzle of the rain also picked up pace with her fast steps, and the entire road sizzled with the sudden down pour of rain.  Smitha could not manage with her stylish umbrella and the wind made it difficult to control the umbrella. The umbrella folded inside and the entire rain slashed on her making her completely drenched in rain. Smitha now found it difficult to walk with her slippers.  Holding her handbag and the umbrella in the right hand, Smitha carried her slippers on her left hand. When Smitha started to run like this to save her life, a car stopped near her with a halt.