Parnika Dutta, Class 7, Epic Public School, shares this thrilling short story by about an unexpected adventure that starts with a simple fortune cookie and leads to a dangerous encounter with a serial killer.
They say ‘A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand’, but what I experienced was not just a balanced diet, but a fascinating story. It was a fine Sunday afternoon, a perfect day to relax, but then my phone rang. I looked at the screen and saw it was Purba.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hey, Sis, I feel like you’re too busy these days,” Purba replied in a tone that somehow made me feel she was angry.
“Why do you say so?” I asked innocently.
Instead of answering directly, she said, “Well, I think you’re going to get beaten up by all of us today.”
“Why on earth?” I asked, now quite surprised.
“Don’t you remember? Today was our friends’ meet-up, and we were all supposed to enjoy a great evening together.”
“Ah! I forgot.”
“Well, you have exactly five minutes to get here. If not, remember, we all will…”
“Okay, Madam, okay.” I didn’t dare to disobey her. I hurried, got dressed, and rushed to my car, but then I realized that I had no idea where to go. Just as I picked up my phone to call Purba, I noticed that she had already shared the location. I checked Google Maps and, fortunately, found that the place was just about seven minutes away.
By the time I arrived, I was way beyond five minutes late. I found that Purba, Ritisha, Sreejit, and Sattwik had already reached, their grumpy and angry faces fixed straight at me. I am dead today, I thought to myself. I gave Ritisha a guilty, puppy-eyed look, as I didn’t have the courage to meet Purba’s gaze. Miraculously, it worked.
“Okay, we’ll spare you today,” they said. “But from next time onwards, don’t be late.”
I smiled and nodded.
We were at the ‘Hourglass Café’ and had a great time chatting. At one point, Purba ordered a plate of ‘fortune cookies,’ which arrived shortly after. As I laid eyes on the chocolaty brown, mouth-watering cookies, I felt an irresistible urge to grab one.
“Who will break the first cookie?” Purba asked, and to my delight, everyone pointed at me.
I picked up a cookie and broke it open. As I read out the message inside the cookie, my friends were stunned. Of course, I never believed in these types of games and so-called luck in fortune cookie, but what followed was quite mysterious.
It was a series of incidents filled with adventure and suspense. I’m sure you’d love to know what was written in the fortune cookie. But hold your horses—let’s get to that later.
It all started a few months ago. One fine day, while I was returning from the office, I noticed a man, around 25 years old, standing and staring at me. He was wearing a green shirt with black trousers, his hair completely disheveled.
As I walked past him, he suddenly approached me and said, “Hello, would you like to go on an adventurous trip?”
I’m not one to take vacations during work—I am, after all, a responsible CEO. So, I replied, “I’m not at all interested in such a trip. However, you can approach my friends if you’d like.”
“That would be wonderful! Could you ask your friends for me?” he requested.
I did, and as expected, they all enthusiastically replied at once, “Yes, yes! Yup, Yop….”
Since we all lived in the same society, I took the man to them. They had a long discussion with him, while I stayed outside, focusing on other things—I wasn’t keen on being part of their boring gossip.
Suddenly, Purba rushed out and demanded, “Pack your bags as fast as possible.”
I always listened to Purba without question, so this time was no different. Without giving it much thought, I packed my bags, completely unaware that I would soon regret it.
We got into the car, with Joseph Bora, a much older man, as our driver. Oh! I forgot to mention the boy who suggested the trip. His name was Yesh Dayal, and something about his behavior seemed suspicious. In fact, I had a strong hunch that he was a kidnapper and that he was planning to abduct us.
As night fell, we kept traveling. I had no idea how long we had been on the road because, at some point, I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I found myself in a room—with my friends nowhere in sight. Uneasiness crept over me, but I assured myself that they must be outside. I stood up and walked to the door. But as I tried to open it, my worry deepened—it was locked.
I’m trapped. I have to break open the door, I thought.
Just then, the door swung open. I felt relieved—but my relief was short-lived. The person standing at the door was none other than Yesh.
I tried to walk past him, but he blocked my way, pointing a revolver at me.
“You can leave,” he said, “but not before you pay me thirty crore rupees. You have every right to refuse—but then, I have every right to kill you.”
I was angry, shocked, and worried all at once. Escaping seemed impossible. I was beginning to lose hope when, suddenly, an IPS officer entered the room with his team.
I don’t know if it was luck or something else, but I was relieved to see them. The officer informed me that Yesh was a wanted serial killer—dubbed the “Jack the Ripper” of modern times.
Later, I reunited with my friends and returned home safely.
But once I was back, I had a strange realization—the number 7 was written all over the building where I had been trapped: on the floors, the rooms, even the lifts.
Curious, I began researching Yesh. I discovered that he left a chit in the pocket of each of his victims, containing dates that were all multiples of seven—7, 14, 21, 28, and so on. They were all connected, forming a pattern that led to his next murder. His first victim had been killed on the 7th, the next on the 14th, and so forth.
I tried to push the thoughts away, but they kept bothering me. Eventually, I decided to investigate further. I found that his last murder had been on the 5th. The next logical date would be the 12th—he wouldn’t break his pattern. Yesh had a strategy: he killed one person every week. His targets were primarily CEOs and businessmen—wealthy individuals he could extort.
I had to figure out who his next victim would be and where he planned to strike.
The next day, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I kept thinking about it late into the night. Feeling restless, I decided to take a walk.
It was around 1 AM when a car sped past me—then suddenly stopped. The driver stepped out. To my surprise, it was Mohit, the IPS officer.
“What are you doing out so late?” he asked.
I told him about my research and findings. Being experienced in such cases, Mohit and I worked together and concluded that Yesh’s next target would be Mukesh Ambani.
We immediately put security measures in place. Soon, Yesh was caught and sentenced to life imprisonment.
And now, I know what you all are waiting for. So, what did my fortune cookie say?
It read: “You will be the lifesaver of a person.”
