The Yogic Power – Destination – #WRITEPHOTO

The Yogic Power -Destination -#WRITEPHOTO

Harvey pressed the accelerator with his foot and drove steadily. He thought to himself, ‘One last delivery to Mrs Anderson and I will be done for the day.’ Harvey had been delivering potted plants to the residents of Bennington village for more than two years. He was tired of going around the village every morning from 9 to 12 in his small delivery van.

He was tired of the same boring routine of handing out little potted plants to middle-aged housewives. These women had nothing better to do than to sing lullabies to the plants as if they could hear the music, reflected Harvey.

Previously he had been delivering pets like dogs, cats and the occasional guinea pig to the women of the village. He had not enjoyed that life either. Harvey was no animal lover. And he simply could not understand people who wasted their time crooning over their dogs and cats. They went on drooling over their pets calling them silly names like Jimmy and Tommy.

He had left the pet delivery job and had decided to deliver potted plants instead. The pay had been better, and the job was not so taxing as he had to work only three hours instead of the four-hour routine earlier. But delivering potted plants had proved to be equally boring to Harvey. He really wished something exciting would happen to liven up his life.

As he turned into Harrington road, he glanced at the trees growing on both sides of the road. The trees jutted inwards on both sides forming a canopy above. Harvey loved driving along the Harrington road. He loved the cool breeze of the morning blowing on his face.

As he drove, Harvey’s thoughts lazily drifted to a show he had watched with his wife on the television the evening before. It was an interview with some guy from India, yogi somebody or the other, speaking about the power of the mind. The fellow had worn a flowing robe and a turban around his head and preached for half an hour about meditation and how a human being could make things happen just by thinking deeply and intensely about whatever he wanted.

Harvey’s wife really believed in these things and was taken in by all these mystic chaps who were on the television every other day. Harvey thought it was all a load of nonsense. It was as if, say, he imagined the greenery around him shedding its leaves and dripping with blood and it would actually happen! Suddenly he grinned and just for a split second closed his eyes and imagined the leaves around him turning red and dripping with blood.

He opened his eyes. Nothing had happened. So much for the mystics of the world, thought Harvey driving all the while. He wondered how people could be gullible enough to fall for such balderdash!

Soon he was driving through the gates of Mrs Anderson’s villa and parked just near the house. He stepped out of his van and went to the backside to fetch the plants. He opened the back door of the van and stared in horror. What he saw left him thunderstruck. The entire floor of the van was covered with blood. The leaves of all the potted plants had turned red and small droplets of blood dripped from them! Harvey fell on the floor stone dead..

This article has been written as part of Sue Vincent’s Thursday prompt #WRITEPHOTO

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