Creative Writing: Dalai Llama

“Isolated yet connected!” Ruchika added. “This Ajit also said that Eagles Point overlooked the abode of the Dalai Llama. Now, I don’t know what to believe.”
“Honestly speaking, you were not misguided at all. The hotel is all of this and more. Just hang in there until the morning and you will never want to leave this place. You will be awestruck. This hotel gives you the best view of the Dhauladhar mountain range. Please trust me on that. In fact, this is the perfect place to shoot your film. And if you trek uphill, you will be able to film the locals too, who still practice ancient rites and rituals. Our porters will go along with you and guide you. I assure you, you are going to love it here.”
Meanwhile, Kulvinder was losing his smirk as

It was dark, as dark could be.
It was quiet, as quiet could be until an owl hooted or was it a beast howling. Kulvinder switched on the headlights again and Max and the boys stepped out of the car.
“Come on out. We’re here!” Subhu said.
And they girls did one by one. It was freezing cold. “Look, there is Eagles Point. A FIVE-STAR hotel!” Shanks shouted pointing up ahead.
But when the others looked up all they saw were the black tree trunks against a bluish charcoal sky, and yes stars, not five stars but zillions.
“Hehehe!” Shanks smirked cheekily.
His voice dripping sarcasm he then said, “Guys, where is the hotel? We 've been taken for a ride. There are no lights, no civilization here.” “Shank’s right. Let 's get out of here. Even he looks scared,” Ruchika whispered.
Affronted Shanks replied, “Are you crazy? I love this place. The sense of adventure, the danger of not knowing what is going to happen next. And hey! I am fit enough to look after both you beautiful women.” he laughed.
Meanwhile, Max egged them on “Don 't worry. It 's just a one-kilometer walk, and it 's not much of a

The British couple led the visitors through the foyer into the dining area where a Danish family; two teenage girls, and a thin tall woman, sat eating at long, rectangular dining table. In the dim lights, the diners pale faces against their all black garb looked ghostly. And when the Danish lady smiled up at them while forking a broccoli floweret into her thin lips, painted a blood red, Ruchika gasped, visibly scared. Sanchi tried to cover up by greeting the diners and then turned to