A tree called vengeance - Digging to its roots - Part I

(NOTE -- Please read in the order the story is posted... from Part I)


I take a last look at her. Her face looks so calm. The face I fell in love with at the first sight. I fill her image in my eyes and close as if to hold it there forever. Then they close the casket. When I opened my eyes I see him. Dave. Dave Madison. Why is he here? He looks sad.

He behaves as if it’s his wife who is dead. I hate his sight. I hated him from the beginning. I hate to look weak in front of him. You wouldn’t like to look weak and beaten in front of your enemy, would you?

I know him from school. I don’t know why but we depised each other from the first day of our school. There was a strange rivalry between us for which the reason was not known to anyone, even to us.

He bought a motorcycle, I bought a car.

I got selected for the football team and most of the times sat on bench, he got into Cricket team and became captian.

He got a girl friend and I did her.

Yes. That’s when all hell broke loose. Our rivalry turned to enemity. The hatred which was under wrap came out in open. Competition got even worse. We always tried to outdo each other.


And, the end of our competition was this. Death of my wife, Stella Foster.