Local Train

Guest Blog #2: Life As We Know IT


So guest blog #2 By Stressed Mess! You read her interview here! She is really great at fictions and is bound to reach great heights later. Check out her blog!

Without any more delay, here we go:


Crisp Mumbai evening.

He boarded the local train with commuters; but there was a difference between him and the other passengers. They were all eager to get home after a long day at work but for him, he knew this was going to be his last train ride.

He described his life as one big disappointment. He always knew he was destined for greatness, but life intervened at about the tender age of eighteen. He dropped out of college to support his ailing parents, to repay debts and take over the responsibility of his younger siblings.

That was twenty years ago.

He had stopped dreaming. He was a smart, intelligent and ambitious man, now struggling to make ends meet. He was stuck in a loveless marriage and he cannot remember the last time he really laughed. Life was dull, claustrophobic and he was going to relieve himself.

He did not bother with a suicide note, it cannot possibly convey why he was taking such a drastic step. How can a paper provide any kind of solace to the family he was leaving behind?

No. He did not want his life and his death to end up as a piece of paper. He wished oblivion. No one would know how he felt in those last, frantic moments. He wanted privacy; nobody should know what was going on in his mind. He had lived this way and he preferred to die this way.

He stood at the door of the train and watched the sun set; his hair flew with the wind as the train caught speed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and braced himself to take the leap, to let go the pain. Suddenly he heard a loud bang and the world changed forever.

He opened his eyes and saw that there was blood everywhere. Smoke was everywhere and he could hear people crying in pain. People who were next to him on the train were severed, blown away into bits.

He heard a woman’s cry in his vicinity and tried to get up, but he could not. He looked down and saw his bloody legs. His mind suddenly registered the pain from his legs, pain beyond his endurance. Help took ten minutes to arrive; those were the hardest ten minutes of his life. He was in a lot of pain but he was conscious, aware of his surroundings. There were times when he wished he would pass out just so that he did not have to see the gruesome scene. The only thing he could think of in those moments of agony was that why them and not me?

He forced himself to die; he wanted to die!

He must have lost consciousness at some point because when he woke, he was in a bed at a government hospital surrounded by other “lucky” passengers who had made it. His wife and ten-year-old son rushed into the room. The relief his family had on seeing him there, alive and well was something he would never forget. They both gave him a big hug and spoke about how thankful they were that the horrible bomb blast had not taken him away from them. They did not know that the bomb blast had actually saved his life.

Later that day he scanned the room and looked at the other patients. They were shook up; of course, some had broken limbs and burns. However, they had gratitude in their eyes. Life had thrown a curveball at them but they were positive, it would all be fine. They knew they were lucky they survived. Seeing the distraught looks on the faces of people who had lost family members, he had an epiphany.

After that day, he knew that he had to hang on, take whatever life has to offer and live for the people in his life. Moreover, after that day, he really lived. His life had finally begun.

Your life is not just your own. Human lives are interwoven. Everything you do, every choice you make, has a direct effect on everybody around you. One cannot live in a selfish manner as he lives in a society, with several different people. We think about suicide because we think it will relieve us of the pain we feel when in reality we are just transferring our suffering on to people who love us. With every death, a hole is formed that may never fill. With every death, there are several lives that are disrupted and with every death a tiny part of several people, dies.


My sincere thanks to ‘Stressed Mess’ for doing this and I hope that I did justice to her piece.

PS: I am still calling more guest bloggers, any one interested can contact me at: itsmayurremember@gmail.com

Blogger Interview

Guest Blogger #2: ‘Stressed Mess’ Interview


After I published my call for guest bloggers, Ms StressedMess here is one of the few to show any interest in this

Thank you! So here is her small interview & you should totally check out her blog, ‘Of Silver Linings And Stormy Nights‘ she is although new at her blog, she has a talent for writing fiction that blows you away and a visit or a follow to her blog is definitely worth it. Her fictional post series ‘Let the Masks fall away‘ are what made me follow her!


 

1. Who are you?

I am a 19 year old student from Mumbai. I come from a family of writers so writing is something that comes naturally to me. Its both a stress buster and my favorite way to pass my time. 

2. Why do you write?

I LOVE TO READ. I read everything from the generic teenage romantic novels to sci fi to books about deranged criminals. Just give me a book and i am a happy girl

3. Lastly any tips for bloggers(myself included) on how to improve writing?

I think the more you write the better you get.Also, It is always good to have a few people who will read what you write and give you an honest opinion on it. 


Like I promised, a short interview!

Her Guest Blog post(fiction) will be published on Monday night so do come back here to check it out.

Thank You for the support.

PS: I am still open for more guest bloggers and I encourage more to come. If interested then contact me on: itsmayurremember@gmail.com

Fan Fiction: Lou Bloom

Fan Fiction: Lou Bloom


Literary Lion: Flower

(I just saw Nightcrawler starring Jake Gyllenhall. I was captivated by his superb performance and when I saw Laura’s post Bloom I had to make an attempt at fan fiction. I’m afraid I couldn’t do it justice)

‘911. What is your emergency?’

‘Hello my name is Lou Bloom from Video Production Network. I heard gunshots in the apartment next door and I went to check. My neighbour is dead.’

‘Sir, can you tell me your address?’

Lou did.

‘Do not touch anything, sir. Patrolmen are on their way.’

He knew that, he could see the police codes on his laptop. Their ETA 120 seconds.

His neighbour, sweet little Miss Penny, was writhing on the floor, her clothes bloodied. He wasn’t worried about her, she would be dead before the police arrives. He was busy filming.

He had video footage of last minute, from when the killer left Miss Penny’s apartment. He had to edit the film, remove killer’s exit.

He continued filming, he had just bought a new camera, the best in the market, and he was using it.

The furniture in the house was undisturbed. Remove the soon-to-be dead body from the scene and no one could guess the room is a crime scene.

He filmed the bedroom, the hall the kitchen astonished that there was no sign of struggle. Miss Penny made a sound and he saw her vomiting blood. Almost dead, he would film the entire hall with her in the frame when she dies.

But somewhere in his mind there was an excitement. He was looking for a flower, flower that was blooming, a message left for him and him alone.

He still couldn’t find it, time was running out and he was loosing control becoming anxious.

Miss Penny continued making more noises. He snapped and screamed at her ‘Shut up!’

He saw then. She was not vomiting blood. He couldn’t keep this trophy can he? Not like the last two murders.

Quickly he made up his mind no editing the tape this time. This woman he will try to save. He kept the camera on the coffee table, making sure he was in the frame. He saw the gunshot wound, midsection.

‘Apply pressure’ he knew so he grabbed the cloth he could find and used it to stop the bleeding.

His tape would help the police to nab the killer. He wanted that flower! But it was a crucial evidence, removing it from the scene would bring the full force of the police on him.

Already he has made a couple of detectives suspicious, he was always at the crime scene before any policeman. He needed them to ease off and Miss Penny would do the job.

All the killer had to do was let him have the flower, now he would be captured.

  image credits: Twitter

Let’s see what others have written:

https://any1mark66.wordpress.com/2015/08/20/literary-lion-flowers-for-you/

http://rfrmst.com/2015/08/19/calmness-of-beauty/

https://unusualstrangeness.wordpress.com/2015/08/20/wilted/

https://sonyca.wordpress.com/2015/08/20/daisies-literary-lion/

https://thisismyironlung.wordpress.com/2015/08/20/lion-flower/

https://heartscrawler.wordpress.com/2015/08/20/memories-of-a-flowered-crown/

https://mandibelle16.wordpress.com/2015/08/20/literary-lion-the-orchid/

3-in-one: Take these flowers away. And the balloon, too!

https://tuckedintoacorner.wordpress.com/2015/08/21/amarysso/

https://livehomeandaway.wordpress.com/2015/08/21/flower-stories/

Literary Lion – Stained Red

In Convenience

https://write1st.wordpress.com/2015/08/25/flower/

http://reelryan.com/2015/08/25/literary-ryan-red-unearthing/

Literary Lion : Heather

Guest-poem-you-dont-matter

Guest Blog #1: You Don’t Matter


Here is the Poetry as promised by Mr Brent Kincaid. You can also check out his interview.

 

 

 

You don’t matter at all,

You hardworking citizen,

You who toil at drudgery

To feed all your children.

When we need you to vote

We pay attention to you

But the rest of the time

We look right through you.

 

You don’t matter at all.

Only the rich are essential

The rest of you are not;

You’re interchangeable.

You’re just marks on a page;

On the bottom of a ledger

And it’s best if you just

Work silently altogether.

 

The one percent matters

But if you are not rich yet

That means you are too stupid

To reach out and get.

The rich are a better class

And a truly valuable human.

All you non-rich are good for

Is to support us by consuming.

 

You don’t matter at all

Since you only vote for POTUS.

The rest of the time you all

Let us rob and you don’t outvote us.

We write laws that give more

And soon all of wealth to us

And then we point at someone else

For you to fail to back and cuss.

 

You don’t matter at all,

Or haven’t you even noticed.

You didn’t see that we urge

You to dwell in a field of lotus

Called football beer and Fox,

The news that is not really news;

Just something to misdirect.

It helps us shape your views.

 

You don’t matter at all.

You prove it every single day

By being so ignorant and lazy

We give this country away

We sell off your birthright

To the rich of other lands

And you all just run your mouth

And sit there on your hands.

 

Brent Kincaid


 

How was the post? I will appreciate any feedback to the post so go ahead!

Thank You Brent for the support.

*All views presented here are from the author.*

PS: I am still open for more guest bloggers and I encourage more to come. If interested then contact me on: itsmayurremember@gmail.com.

 

Blogger Interview

Guest Blogger #1: Brent Kincaid Interview


After I published my call for guest bloggers, Mr Brent here was the first to respond. Though initially I was hesitant to go ahead with this guest blogging routine because of a lack of response, I am going ahead with this anyway and I will run this series of guest blogging till I run out of bloggers.

Thanks Brent! So here is the small interview on Brent and you should totally check out his poetry blog ‘Poet but know it‘ That has about 868 poems on it!!! It is a fresh take on things. A veteran is here on my blog!


 

1. Who are you?

About seventy years ago I was born in Kansas City, dead center of The Bigotry Belt. After leaving high school I worked, got cast in a couple of plays and sang in two nightclubs. I moved from there in my early twenties to Hollywood on what ‘the right’ likes to call The Left Coast. Yeah! And, damn proud of it!

I stayed there for twenty three years during the gay revolution, including but not limited to defying the police who threatened to arrest all of us, I marched with a thousand other gays down Hollywood Boulevard in 1970 chanting “Out of the closets and into the streets!” and doing the flutter kick with a dozen other young gays. I stayed there, acting in plays, singing in nightclubs and making absolutely zero effect on my career as a famous entertainer.

The rest of my time there, I worked for the telephone company, bought a house and then retired from Ma Bell to Tucson, Arizona, where I met and married the love of my life. We have now been married twenty-four years. 

2. Why do you write?

Twelve years ago we moved to Kauai where I am working as an artist and poet. I am sort of the staff poet on a Facebook magazine called The Blue Route, a progressive newsletter.

3. Lastly any tips for bloggers(myself included) on how to improve writing?

The best advice I can offer to bloggers is two old saws.

First: be brief, be correct and be visible.

Second, avoid, as much as possible unless for comedy relief, using old phrases like “a good time was had by all” and “my jaw dropped to the floor”. That is about the best advice I can give anyone who wants their piece to be read by anyone anywhere.

Remember the words of Oscar Wilde: “If you want to be famous, get your name in print as often as you can. There is no such thing as bad publicity. Any publicity at all is good publicity.” While I don’t agree with that 100%, it is basically good advice.


Like I promised, a short interview!

His Guest Blog post(poetry) will be published on Monday night so do come back here to check it out.

Thank You Brent for the support.

PS: I am still open for more guest bloggers and I encourage more to come. If interested then contact me on: itsmayurremember@gmail.com

Dance of Death

Dance Of Death


Literary Lion. Dance

She lay dying.

Her clothes were bloodied although most of the blood was from her enemies. She had killed many of them tonight. But not enough and now only the most potent and deadly chased her down the alley. She knew she wouldn’t outlive the hour, she had no energy resources to tap to. She fought with them to avenge her brother. No regrets now.

Gasping breath, gurgling blood and spit she tried walking into the alley when she heard footsteps in front of her. Two men stood there, both had their weapons drawn. She noted that one on the right looked relaxed, the tip of his sword slightly lowered. He was the leader!

The leader understood he has been made. He bowed down at the waist in respect. The sign of respect was so genuine that she almost forgot that this is not a death match. Some scuffling sounds at her back made her aware that more men stood behind her. She was surrounded, the trap was sprung and there’s no way out.

She looked down at her weapons, her knuckles were bruised and there were some throwing stars in her belt. Her short swords were perfect for close combat but her feet were a mass of cuts. She was slower on her feet now. She knew she was stabbed somewhere in her back but she wasn’t sure where. Now there is no time to worry about that.

Deep breaths. Eyes closed and focused on directing any energy to her limbs. Making mental defenses for the pain she is experiencing and the ones which will be forthcoming. She must have taken a whole minute before she was ready, she was surprised that none of the five killers had attacked.

Hands steady now, legs almost nimble enough for the dance, she sprung into action. She was completely surrounded, her only option was to make room. Her strongest enemy was their leader so she attacked him. Any rational thought had long since escaped her, survival was all she looked for.

Swinging, parrying, shouting she shot forward, the leader quickly moving a step back and then two. She had her space. Blindly, instinctively she counter attacked, she felt one or two slashes across her back. Her mental defenses were crumbling but she couldn’t stop now. Slash. Parry. Thrust. Move.

Her world was down to those four actions. Suddenly her left handed thrust punched into a chest and she felt blood on her hand. No time to dislodge the weapon she moved to throw a star from her belt. Another man down.

They moved away again, another man was injured, holding his right thigh. She had no clue when she had cut him but the damage was done. He would die bleeding out because an artery has been severed. Two men remained. Their leader was furious.

They engaged again, this time she attacked the other guy and got lucky. Her right handed cut him across his face and he was down. And she felt a sword driven in her gut.

Not this way, she thought. Not this way.

A last throwing star. His right eyeball. More blood on her hands. And it was over. She fell down, vomiting blood.

She lay dying. Her dance was over.

Let’s see what others have written:

purgatory for paperback novels
https://newshoundnovelist.wordpress.com/2015/08/11/dancing-around-the-issue-literary-lion-challenge-week-1/
https://balconyviewz.wordpress.com/2015/08/09/friends-in-love-fiction/
https://thumbingthrough.wordpress.com/2015/08/10/where-to-put-my-feet/
https://rileyreedauthor.wordpress.com/2015/08/09/literary-lion-dance-in-his-arms/
Literary Lion : Pas de Deux
Literary Lion – Lord of the Dance
The Pre-Audition
https://thistlehammertransmutational.wordpress.com/2015/08/07/fortune-cookie-friday-6-august-2015/
https://nortinamariela.wordpress.com/2015/08/07/and-this-is-why-i-do-not-go-to-clubs/
https://tuckedintoacorner.wordpress.com/2015/08/07/patina/
https://thisismyironlung.wordpress.com/2015/08/06/dance/
https://livehomeandaway.wordpress.com/2015/08/06/for-the-king/
https://sonyca.wordpress.com/2015/08/06/danse-macabre/
https://unusualstrangeness.wordpress.com/2015/08/06/flawless-performance/
A Dance Memory

Guest Bloggers Needed

Calling Guest Bloggers!


I have discussed with a blogger friend of mine on the same topic and taking advice from her I intend to publish a series of guest blogs.

If you are interested, you a blogger or just want to want to write I welcome you. I won’t guarantee a lot of exposure, I myself suffer from less exposure.

Email me at : itsmayurremember@gmail.com

There’s no word limit.

I give you full space as to write whatever you want to write about.
PS: I still have all right to not publish if I think the post is offensive
Contact me. Thanks!

First Job

My First Job


It lasted for four days. Yes four days.

(I have previously written on my struggles to land a job.)

How did I get placed there?

I had little hopes of getting a good job. I had a specific criteria & I was not willing to enter any written agreement mandating me to work for the company for ‘x’ years. So I looked at the unconventional openings: Content Writing.

In my folly, I thought I knew how to write. I figured this would be a piece of cake. A Google search of the jobs available later I ended up on their website and my application was sent. Same day I got two more interview calls and I had three interviews arranged in a span if two days.

The Work

The in-charge proposed that I work there on a temporary basis. He wanted to see how well I can cope up with actual technical writing and he asked me to evaluate if I am sure of taking up the responsibility. Additionally he offered to pay for my travel expenses for the temporary period. After some hesitation I took the job. There is still no call from the other two places where I interviewed.

The four evaluation days were all the same. He gave me a task to perform and I had to write. My initial assessment of this being a piece of cake quickly broke down. There’s a huge difference in writing for oneself and writing for someone else. Though we thought along the same plane, my words failed to impress him time after time.

I didn’t lose hope and concentrated more. The most frustrating day was when I ended up writing the same sentence ten different times and he liked none of them. 10!

I am humbled. He kept his word on the last day and remunerated me. He had a stock of papers in his hand, my written drafts & when I bid him farewell I knew I wouldn’t be called back. But that experience was needed. I needed to learn first hand that I am not the best at what I do and I still have a long way to go. I needed the shock.

The sad thing is though

On the last day I was starting to enjoy myself. I liked the congenial work culture, the indulgence and work ethics. The in charge no matter how dogmatic is a man who he said he was and his company had the life the website promised. They were nice people. It sucked to leave.

On the worse side

Of sorts. The food I ate there had a serious effect on me. Vomiting, fever and all the accompanying symptoms. I have been lying in my bed for last two days. Helpless. Weak. If I had continued there my health would surely deteriorated.

I expect a recovery in the next couple of days. I keep joking to my friend that ‘I’m dying’ and she rebukes. She doesn’t realize that I really feel that way.

PS: If you are a php developer or writer and looking for a job”

Reach me via Facebook and I will refer you to the company. They need the manpower.

Keep Me As A Friend


Yes have me as a friend. I am interested in you. I want to know about you.

I don’t expect us to be best buddies. I don’t want us to stay up till 4 am and have a profound conversation. But I will be your best friend if you need me to. I’ll stay up all night if you want me to.

I don’t have any illusions. We aren’t perfect. If you have lived this long then you will be hurt, broken and imperfect. I know it. I won’t ask you about it, you tell me when you get want to. You keep your secrets, and share if you want to. I’ll listen.

There won’t be thousands of pictures of us. There will hardly be a few. But there will be memories. There will be giggles and there will be disgust. There will definitely be tears. Because crying comes the easiest. So have whatever you want to, I’ll be there.

Call me if you have a problem. Call me if there’s a difficulty. Call me if you are eating my favorite food. Or just call me if there’s nothing to do. I’ll pick up. And I’ll either help you or just make fun of you.

Tell me about your interests. Tell me your goals and I’ll encourage you. I’ll enjoy your victories and I’ll tell you to cherish your defeats. I’ll share your passions, even if I don’t know anything about them. I’ll tag you in posts that I think will interest you. I’ll tell you about things that interest me, but I won’t coerce you into liking them. I won’t try too hard to be liked, I am just enthusiastic about lot of things. And there are too many things that can interest me.

I will not bore you with my problems. I keep them into myself and this blog. You ask me about them and I won’t lie to you, not because I’m whiny but because I respect you too much to lie. And I’ll get my shit together.

I won’t look at your color. I won’t care about your devotion neither will I be bothered about your caste. I’ll try to be the same for all. I’ll hang out with you unconcerned. I’ll guard my tongue as per your tolerance.

I’ll be a chameleon, I’ll change my behavior as per my group. I’ll be indecent and I’ll be mannered. I am not trying to fit in, I don’t have just one side, I have many. Neither do you. I won’t ask you about them. I will give you your space and expect the same in return.

And with time I’ll leave you alone. I will be attached, I’ll want you in my life but I’ll make sure I don’t need you. If we make a stronger bond then you will despise me. You will want to kill me. And that’s okay, getting close entails hatred. I can’t have things my way all the time.

So this friendship day I’ll say to you, keep me as a friend. I’ll miss out on birthdays but I will be next to you at funerals. Because that’s what friends do. They laugh and cry together.

One of best friendship posts i have read and saved in my phone:

https://endkwote.wordpress.com/2014/08/07/never-always-hardly-truly/