Category: Stories
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WFTG Ch. X
CASE CLOSED! Bombay High Court — 10:00 a.m., Two Weeks Later The courtroom had become a cathedral of reckoning. Packed galleries, creaking benches, pens scribbling into silence. At the defendant’s box sat Christopher Lobo, once Mumbai’s most celebrated literary mind, now caged in glass like a myth turned monster. His crimes no longer whispered about…
Pranav Dixit
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WFTG Ch. IX
VERSTIMONY Breach Candy Safehouse — 6:12 a.m. The dawn light filtered in like a whisper through gauzy curtains, casting long shadows across the modest safehouse bedroom. Arjun Roy sat at the edge of the bed, one boot on, holster already secured, the cold steel of his badge brushing against his ribs. On the nightstand, the…
Pranav Dixit
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WFTG Ch. VIII
THE HIDDEN HAND Crime Branch Forensic Lab — 9:10 a.m. The hum of fluorescent lights filled the room like a quiet accusation. Every surface gleamed with sterility, but the object on the steel table was anything but ordinary. It lay there — sleek, black, innocuous — the dismantled remains of a Mont Blanc pen. Dr.…
Pranav Dixit
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WFTG Ch. VII
LEAD IS DEAD? Crime Branch HQ, Mumbai — 9:06 a.m. The city drowned in rain. It hadn’t stopped for three days — monsoon hammering rooftops like an angry metronome. Inside a sealed chamber deep in the Crime Branch, the rain’s rhythm gave way to silence as Arjun Roy stared down at Anna Sebastian’s manuscript like…
Pranav Dixit
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WFTG Ch. VI
VEILED FILES Vasai Safe House — 7:12 a.m. The old laptop clicked as the pen drive locked into place. A pale-blue folder bloomed onto the desktop, its name plain and cold: Anna_Sebastian_FINAL. Inside — chaos disguised as structure. Dozens of audio files. Scanned diary fragments. Photographs. One document titled simply: MWF_Complete.pdf. Arjun Roy exhaled slowly as he…
Pranav Dixit
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WFTG Ch. V
VICTIM TWO Koregaon Park, Pune — 9:47 a.m. The internet café was easy to miss — wedged between a DVD store clinging to nostalgia and a juice stall that still proudly bore a sun-bleached “Try Our Mango Fizz!” board from a decade ago. The street buzzed faintly with scooters, the smell of wet tar, and…
Pranav Dixit
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WFTG Ch. IV
MISSING PIECES Pune — 7:08 a.m. The rain had lightened, but the sky still sagged, bruised with monsoon weight. The garden outside the convent was quiet, disturbed only by the soft rustle of palm fronds and the practiced hands of nuns stringing clothes on lines between trees. Each clothespin clipped with the same gentle reverence…
Pranav Dixit
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WFTG Ch. III
UNPUBLISHED TRAIL Pune — 8:02 a.m. The building was colorless, a pale skeleton tucked between a crumbling temple and a banyan tree whose roots had broken through cement like truths rising from silence. The women’s shelter in Kothrud looked like it had tried, once, to be invisible. Inside, the air smelled of antiseptic and prayer.…
Pranav Dixit
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WFTG Ch. II
UNKNOWN SENDER Bandra, Mumbai — 6:42 a.m. The city stirred under a veil of mist, reluctant to wake. Bandra’s quiet lanes, usually alive with honking rickshaws and barking strays, felt suspended in time. Wrought-iron gates dripped with dew. Bougainvillaea vines sagged under the weight of yesterday’s rain. Detective Arjun Roy stood alone outside the hollow…
Pranav Dixit
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WFTG Ch. I
A POEM FOR THE DEAD South Mumbai | 2:14 a.m. Rain stitched delicate patterns on the windows of Palmview Towers, its sound gentle but insistent, like a poet wrestling with the weight of a final verse. The city beyond was caught in a hushed trance. South Mumbai’s faded art deco facades loomed in the mist,…
Prnv Dixit 