Fiction: Against the Caped Crusader


(A man and a woman are sitting in front of each other on a stage as the audience looks on and a couple of cameras pan across the stage. A massive sign behind the two people on stage says: 30Mins. The show goes on air and the audience starts applauding, the camera zooms in on the two people.)

Mayoral Candidate Williamson: (Putting down his glass of water, looking focussed) Hello Melissa. Thank you for having me.

Interviewer Melissa: (Seated opposite Williamson, holding a stack of cards) It is my pleasure to have you on this show. I am sure that I speak for myself, the people at home and the people joined us here live today in the studio that we have been looking forward to hearing from you.

W: (Smiles a bit nervously)That is nice. I would imagine that there will be a lot of tough questions waiting for me then.

M: (Chuckles)Yes. However, let’s get the formalities out of the way first then shall we? If you could speak to the camera and introduce yourself to the people who have never heard of you?

W: (Looks at the camera, clears his throat)My name is John Williamson, and I am currently running for the Mayor of this blessed city you all call home. I have been the district attorney of this city before, elected by all you diligent citizens, and I would like to be the mayor to deal with the problems that have been festering in this city for so long.

M: (Immediately pouncing) By problems, you mean the Caped Crusader right?

W: (Without missing a beat himself) Yes, one of the promised changes in my campaign is to finally apprehend the vigilante, the Caped Crusader.

M: Why do you think that he needs to be captured? I mean he has done a lot of good in the city.

W: (Nonplussed) Has he though? Think about in the last few years the amount of people put in jeopardy because some madman thinks it will be fun to toy with the Crusader. The property damage, the blatant disregard for the law, the numerous felonies committed all in the name of justice. I don’t believe anyone should be above the law, whether they think they are doing something good or not.

M: (Tilting her head to the left, the side where her earphone is sitting in) But he has helped put so many criminals behind bars. I, and a lot of citizens in this city, feel safer at night knowing that there is someone looking out for them.

W: How do we know if they are criminals? Are we supposed to believe a masked man’s judgement? If you or me beat a person to an inch of their life and tell them to confess to a crime so that the beating stops, will that person not confess? That is not justice, that is torture.

M: (Opens her mouth but stops as there is a collective gasp from the audience.) No one is denying that his methods are not unlawful….

W: (Cuts in this time) But you and everyone else is happy to feel safe if it means that someone else can be tortured in the streets?

M: (Struck speechless, the audience members start whispering amongst themselves. She turns to the camera) We will pick up this conversation right after the commercial break.

(The camera pans away from the stage as the show goes on commercial. W and M look at each other, W nods at M feeling awkward. The show comes back on air)

M: (Waiting for the audience to stop their applause) Hello everyone, I am your host Melissa Gordan and I am joined here by the controversial mayoral candidate John Williamson.

W: (Nods at the camera and the audience as the audience claps).

M: (Looking back at W) So, before the break we were discussing your perspective on the Caped Crusader. However, if you don’t mind, I would like to talk about your personal life.

W: (Slightly perplexed)Um, yes sure. What would you like to know?

M: (Smiling) You went to school in the city’s own St Mary’s School for Boys right?

W: (Nodding) Yes, I did. I still remember that school, the color of the walls. Sister McDonald teaching us Science before the break and after the break teaching us Bible Studies.

M: (Laughing now) That must have been very confusing time. Plus, Catholic schools are known for their discipline and we can see the result of that right here. (Laughs for the camera)

W: (Blushing now, looks at his feet) Ah you are too kind. I was a kid back then, I was not always so disciplined and focussed as I am now.

M: (Head tilts to left) Yes, was that around the time when you met Tony Kingsley?

W: (Head snaps up) Tony? Um what has that got to do with this?

M: Ah. So for the audience who are not aware, Tony along with the Kingsley family were recently arrested in a RICO case.

W: (Purses lips) I did not know that.

M: (Gives a sympathetic smile) Then you also must have not been aware that the Caped Crusader has been instrumental in their arrest.

W: (Leans back in his chair, frowning) I see.

M: The police has been trying to arrest the crime family for years now, and every time they get close, they lost their progress. It was due to the Caped Crusader that the police were able to uncover the evidence.

W: Tell me M, (looks at the earpiece), have they been proven guilty yet?

M: (Tilts her head even more) The trial is still ongoing.

W: (Expecting this answer) So they have not, despite some hard evidence that the family was involved in illegal activity.

M: (Shifts in the seat) I am not involved in covering that case for our network, but I am happy to get that information for you.

W: (Waves his hand) No need. Cause I will tell you what will happen: eventually the district attorney will have to present this crucial evidence to the court. And he will have to state how the police got that evidence.

M: (Impatiently) Yes that is how the court works.

W: (Leans forward) The judge throws that evidence out of the court as the Caped Crusader is not the hand of the law. He obtained that evidence, most likely through torture.

M: (Speechless)

W: So tell me Melissa, what is the point of having that evidence if it blows our case against supposed crime families?

M: (Tilts her head again) I would like to discuss your familiarity with Tony Kingsley Mr Williamson. How well did you know him?

W: (Shakes his head) The Caped Crusader has arranged himself such that no one can question what he does, we just have to put our faith that he is doing the right thing.

M: Is it true that you and he have met shortly before he was arrested?

W: The Caped Cru…? No I did not meet Tony, I mean Mr Kingsley. I have not seen him in a long time.

M: During your tenure as a District Attorney, did you not have any contact with Kingsley crime family?

W: I had hundreds of cases. The allegations against the Kingsley family have not been proven in court yet, so you can’t call them a crime family.

M: (Looking smug)

W: (Licks lips, goes to pick up his glass of water).

M: (Looking at the camera)I think this would be a great time for a commercial break. We will be back soon.

(The show cuts to a commercial break. W asks for another glass of water, M stands up and walks around, her hand pressed  against her left ear. W looks deep in thought. The camera announces show is back on in 10. M sits back and takes a sip of water herself, cameraman signs 3, 2, 1. Show is back on air. Audience members start clapping on queue).

M: (Looking at the camera and smiling) Hello everyone and welcome back to this exciting episode of 30Mins. My guest is Mayoral Candidate John Williamson.

W: (Smiles at M) Thank you.

M: (Looks at W) I would like to continue talking about you and Tony, and by extension the Kingsley family.

W: (Nodding) I would be happy to talk about that too, but I would also like to talk about your obsession with the Caped Crusader.

M: (Frowning) Obsession?(Tilts her head towards the left) Anyway, I would like to know when did you last meet Tony?

W: I don’t remember when I last met Tony. I could have met him in a courtroom long ago, but like I said, I had too many cases to remember anyone. If you would like to refresh my memory?

M: (Opens her mouth) Yes….

W: (Continues as if M hadn’t spoken at all) Anyway, the Caped Crusader. If you agree with his methods, his blatant disregard for our constitution, I would like to think it is not because you think his is doing something good. I believe that you support him because you can sit back and let him clean up the streets while you can interview people like me who are actually trying to bring about a change.

M: (Clearly uncomfortable with the attack) I don’t think you are making any sense. Back to Tony, according to our records you met him a couple weeks ago. It was an official meeting in your office, just a week prior to his and the Kingsley family’s arrest. (Tilts her head again) As a district attorney you would be aware of his impending arrest would you be not?

W: Your acceptance with what the Crusader does means that you don’t have to stand up to bring a change. Police can sit back and not do their jobs because a masked man will hunt down people committing crimes in the street.

M: It was not after Kingsley crime family’s arrest that you announced a run for the mayor.

W: Again, they are not a crime family. Back to the Crusader, I sometimes wonder how could one man afford his gadgets, his technology. Either, ironically, he has stolen all of it or he is someone who has access to a lot of money himself. I wonder how much good he could do if he donates that money instead of trying to take it on himself to (air-quotes)clean the streets….


The screen is turned off. In the monitors reflection, the Caped Crusader looks at his own stony face.

Fiction: I am going to Hell


First time I woke up after the surgery, my vision was blurry. I could still hear raging fire around me, but I didn’t feel any heat. I didn’t think too much about it. 

The second time I woke up, I felt better. I looked around my bed to look for burned objects, but everything was spotless. My chest stitches where I had undergone a bypass surgery were tingling. I decided that I had imagined the heat from last time. 

The third time I woke up, I felt scratches on my back. My calves were screaming in agony. I could tell that they were bruised. I got out of bed worried I wouldn’t be able to walk. I walked fine. There were no bruises on my calves. But they hurt like someone very strong had grabbed onto them and didn’t let go.

I recalled my dream, one where I was being dragged into a burning fire. Nails biting into my back and powerful hands gripping my calves. I shook my head, dismissing the similarities as medically induced hallucinations. The alternative was too scary.

My doctor checked on me that day. He smiled to see me recovering well. I asked him if sensation of scratches and bruises after the surgery was a side effect. He assured me this was the morphine surging through my body. I didn’t believe him, I felt that something may have gone wrong in my surgery. They did something to me.

The day of my discharge as I walked past all of the families in the waiting room, I saw my reflection in the glass windows. I screamed and backed away.

I saw myself, bloodied & battered. My hair had been pulled out, my face had been partially burned and my chest had missing skin. I could see my chest muscles pulsing, every heartbeat sending shockwaves through me. After I couldn’t take it anymore, I looked beyond me.

There was the fiery pit from my nightmare, one that I was being dragged into. There were humanoid shapes moving in front of the pit stabbing the fire. Someone walked close to me, I could hear their footsteps. 

The figure had a full foot on me, leathery skin resembling burned rubber. It came next to me and leered at me…

I looked away from the glass instantly. I couldn’t take it anymore. My doctor stood in the place of that thing. He smiled back me, placing a hand on my shoulder reassuringly. But I could see the gleam in his eyes.

‘Mister, are you okay?’ he asked me.

I didn’t say anything. My mouth was dry and my knees had locked up.

‘Sir if there is an issue, I can assure you that you can always come back. We will have you back.’

It was then that I noticed that his eyes were red.


Bring Down Heaven trilogy by Sam Sykes


Note: This is in no way or form a book review. I am writing a high fantasy book series that I enjoyed.

Sam Sykes is an author who I follow on Twitter and have grown to appreciate his online humour. I kept seeing his book ‘City Stained Red’ on his feed and I ordered it from the library and subsequently read all three of the books in ‘Bring Down Heaven’ series: City Stained Red, The Mortal Tally & God’s Last Breath.

The books follow 5 adventurers/mercenaries and their stories: Lenk the default leader, Kataria a Shict ( species resembling elves ), Denous one with the past, Asper the priestess of Healing God, Dreadeleon a wizard and Gareth the Rhoga ( a lizard-humanoid species ). Apologies if I didn’t get their names right. In addition, the book introduces a ton of characters of which the most important of which are Mocca a man in white Lenk meets in the beginning.

I enjoy books which have multiple characters like these. It is an impressive feat to juggle so many different characters and to do them satisfactorily. This is a massive story, each book in the series spanning about 600 pages with the last book having a length of exactly 666 pages.

This book also deals heavily with the questions about faith, Gods who never answer and humanity’s need to have a being up in the sky. It also features heaps of exciting battles sequences and the city which despite being destroyed to the fullest always seem to have someone selling curry.

Pretty much everything I could ever like all together.

NOTE 2: Significant spoilers follow.

Each of the character has a different story.

  1. Gareath starts by being disgusted by humanity and his only tolerance is because of Lenk and others. Once the band disbands ( like the beetles ), Gareath has no checks on his anger.
    His story continues by raging against the city and ends with him realizing that he may have won the battle but there are just too many humans to actually defeat. Humans have created a system where every species has no choice but to follow their footsteps and eventually end up under their boot.
  2. Kataria already knew what Gareath knows. Her story revolves around where does she belong and what does she want. It is a pretty succinct description I would say.
    Also, she tries for two books to prevent shicts from starting a war with humans but she fails.
  3. Dreadealeon is a boy and his story deals with him fighting against everyone who thinks he is a boy. He uses his power haphazardly endangering and killing without any second thought. Only does when he have too much power right at the cusp of death he grows mature.
  4. Denous is someone who regrets his past, pretty much haunted by his actions. He wants to redeem himself but as the violence increases he is drawn back to his old habits and eventually makes the same action again hoping that just like last time, his actions will create enough chaos for his side to prevail. It doesn’t and the last thing he sees is his own past haunting him again.
    Until he is jerked back to haunt the living.
  5. Asper is someone who just doesn’t give up. Ever. Every time she fails, she picks herself up again. And again. And again. She does whatever she can, she hoodwinks and beguiles to save people because she actually believes in her life’s purpose as a priest.

The best story in this series is between Lenk and Mocca. Of course, at end of book 1 it is revealed that Mocca is a manifestation of the God-King Khoth-Kapira from Hell.

This is why the story is so interesting.

An atheist continuously converses with a entity prayed to by thousands of followers. A God-King/Demon & a mortal.

Throughout the series, individuals are seen to be praying to a God that never answers but they keep doing it anyway. Lenk, a sellsword, doesn’t pray to anyone.

He doesn’t pray even when he finds out that his blood contains blood of a long-dead God. Mocca/Koth-Kapira could talk to anyone but he chooses to engage with Lenk.

Their discussions revolve around Lenk’s inability to stop fighting. Lenk has been fighting for as long as he can remember & his only desire is to stop fighting in the start of the series. The series begins with him sneaking into the city to get paid and retire. And it is at the gates where he meets Mocca.

  1. Lenk lands in the middle of a gang-war.
  2. Then he inevitably started a civil war between two armies in the city.
  3. Then he was part of a ambush in outside the city.

As far as Lenk sees, fighting follows him everywhere. He can’t stop. Lenk desperately wants someone else to take control of his life.

Mocca convinces Lenk the only way Lenk & everyone in this world might stop fighting would be if someone Godly ( Mocca ) can guide them all.

Of course, none of this is really possible. Lenk didn’t start the gang-war, he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. It is revealed that the civil war would have started anyway, the armies were already skirmishing in the city. The ambush outside the city had nothing to do with him, he was again at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Lenk believes Mocca can stop everything. He was desperate for a life without any need to pick up the sword.

‘In their desperation, they turned to a man they don’t fully understand.’

Alfred, Dark Knight 2008

Mocca can stop the wars, the enmity among all species. Mocca can take control. By literally controlling everyone.

EVERY SINGLE SPECIES.

There is more to this story that I am not getting into for example, Mocca could have easily killed Lenk whenever he wanted.

My best guess is Mocca desperately wanted someone to understand him. Mocca was as desperate as Lenk to win someone’s support.

Looking back, it was obvious that the series would end right where it began: a conversation between Lenk and now the dying Mocca.


The end is pretty great. Everyone gets what they always wanted. It is not what they thought it might be but they get it anyway. They all go their separate ways.

As I was writing this post, I realized that the series have a precursor trilogy that I may read someday too.

Short Story: Bliss


Inspired by: RadioLab episode Bliss. Just listen to the first ~10 mins of it and smile.

You can listen to the entire episode if you want, it is one of my favorties.

She didn’t want to look at her scores. She knew she was going to pass her exams. But she didn’t want to look at her scores and be… disappointed.

She has studied hard, everyone has always said she could score at the top of the class if she tried hard enough. She did try hard, every time. And every single time she came up short.

She should be happy with her scores, but she isn’t. Her friends are happier after scraping through the exams. But she was chasing a grade that she hasn’t achieved yet. And nothing below it would ever be sufficient.

She studied in the library to distract herself from everyone else looking at their scores. She had her phone turned off so that no one would message her. She would wait until the school is almost deserted to look at her scores.

She realized, she can’t try to explain it to her friends why her grades aren’t good enough. She doesn’t want to put up a happy face for others.

The day passed excruciatingly. She was restless, her legs fidgeting and her eyes darting to her turned off phone. She was almost there.

It was one hour before the decided time but she goes for it anyway. There are some students in the school but she walks past them in a hurry.

Scoreboard. Her name is alphabetically in the middle.

And…

‘WOOOOOOOO!!!!!!’ she shouts raising her hands in the air and jumps. She whoops some more, throws her bag off and turns her phone on.

‘WOOOOOO!!!!’ she screams again. She doesn’t realize but she is grinning ear to ear. Someone behind her claps.

She typed in her phone.

‘I GOT IT!!!!!’.

This time, all of her friends join in her excitement.

 


 

Short Story: New Career


‘This worked at home’

I looked inside the hat puzzled, ignoring my audience of impatient 8 year olds. There was supposed to be a deck full of Queen of Hearts in there. But, it was empty. I cocked my head sideways, frowning. How did this not work? I had enchanted the hat with all of the right ingredients, I tested the spell once before the show.   

‘What is in your hat?’ the 9 year old birthday boy, Adam demanded to know. I snapped back into character and smiled. Yes, I was on stage and this wasn’t a time to be confused. I had to amaze my audience and so I would have to pull a finale from my ass.

Speaking of pulling something…

‘Well, I promised you a Queen didn’t I? But do you know what is better than a Queeeeennnn?’ I urged them to guess.

‘A King!’

‘A Mercedes Benz’

The kids kept shouting answers that were far beyond my ability to conjure. I had to stop them before they exhaust themselves too much. I mumbled a word under my breath and cast my spell.

‘A RABBIT!!’ I shouted as I pulled one out of the hat. The children exclaimed and started clapping. Luckily, they never realized that my spell hadn’t worked.


‘…, I don’t know what went wrong. I apologize for the mess up.’ I explained to the host of the party. Mac Andrews was a middle aged hedge fund broker who was on his 4th beer at his son’s 9th birthday party.

Yes, I was counting. The more they drank, less there would be left for me. I looked over Mac’s shoulder and I could see a whole table arrayed with beer bottles. Parents of other children were near the table like vultures using me as an excuse to get away from their children.

‘Adam loved your show. So did the other parents, they said you were amazing for a woman. After you finished, he said to me he wanted to be real magician like you.’ He took a long sip of his beer.

I smiled despite what he had said. I inspired someone to take up arcane arts?

‘So I am wondering where I can buy materials for the tricks you performed.’

‘Tricks?’ I asked, my attention snapping back at him.

‘Yeah tricks. Like how did you change color of that deck of cards? Or how was the bunny hidden in your hat?’

I glared at him.

‘I am happy to pay extra if needed.’ He quickly added.

I don’t want to remember what I did after that. I am sure Mac won’t remember anything from the night either.


I got out of the shower and dried myself. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I asked myself if I have it in me to actually be a mage. It won’t be the first time I have changed careers. It won’t be the only time I changed something either. I snapped my fingers and my shoulder length hair changed its color from orange to blue.

I changed my hair frequently. I kept moving houses, without any forwarding addresses so that my ex boyfriends can’t find me. Now, as I am finally trying my best to stick to magic, I kept making mistakes.

I heard the floorboard squeaking.

No one has the key to my apartment. I quickly fasten the bathrobe around me and grabbed the burning candle currently permeating my bathroom with fragrance. I remind myself to not to set this apartment on fire.

As I walked out, I saw an old woman looking up at my library. It took me a long time to collect all of those books; although none of them in particular is really unique, but the combination of them all would be.

‘Last time someone broke into my apartment, I set them on fire.’ I threaten. I don’t know who the woman was, but I figured that fire threatens everyone. Yes, every ONE.

‘Catherine’, the woman spoke in a reverberating, almost like a cat purring, voice ‘Your library is amazing.’

‘Thank you?’ I replied confused. ‘However, checkouts will require you to get a library card.’

She laughed and turned around. My eyes went wild in recognition. She looked young, younger than me and I was barely 30.

She was also really dangerous. So I spoke a word for fire in a language long dead and my candle’s tiny spec of a flame raged into an inferno.

For a second.

I looked at her again. She smiled.

‘Well, this should’ve worked at home.


I attended a magic show recently and I realized that in a world where we constantly believe that magic is just trickery and slight of hand, a real mage could fit in perfectly.

I also know that a similar book series has been written, in fact it is one of my favorites: Dresden Files by Jim Butcher. I also tried to imagine spell casting a lot like software development: full of mistakes and confusion. 🙂

Short Story: Baby Brother


‘You’ll tell mum?’ Samir asked crestfallen.

When he was 8, he broke the tele. He looked at me distraught and asked me the same thing.

Now, I can’t even look at him anymore. He has lost weight. My eyes trying to find my brother in the shell he has wasted into. I wondered why did he relapsed this time.

I looked out of the car window, the day was beautiful. The type of day I would be spending soaking the sun on a beach somewhere. But I was outside a rehab.

“I should tell her, she has been texting me since last night.” I finally mumbled. I should have been angry, but all I felt was tiredness.

When I saw him two years ago, we fought. He stormed off into the night but eventually he settled into our mum’s garage. From the corner of my eye, I could see him nodding his head. He was high.

“You sure I need to go there? I would be okay, I won’t take anymore.” he uttered sullenly as he gazed upon the doors which would be his home for the next couple of months.

“You know you do. They can help you, I…” I choked up.

He got out of the car for what seemed like eternity, the silence hanging between us like a carcass. I watched him talk to the receptionist.

I sat in my car, hoping he wouldn’t come running out. I hoped this would be our last visit.

I receive another text.

‘Have you found him?’. Mum.

I never told mum how the tele broke.

‘He’s fine. He would be living with me for a while.’


I wrote this for Brilliant Flash Fiction’s Concealment prompt last year. It didn’t make the cut but after listening to ‘This American Life’s’ episode on Dopey I revisited it. I tried to modify to what the episode was about, how I felt while listening it.

Daily Post: Hideout (Fantasy Fiction)


(Unintentional continuation of Glitter fiction piece I wrote yesterday)

‘What are we doing sir?’

‘We are waiting Maddy.’ One Eyed Solomon grumbled. No one knows why his name is One Eyed as he has both of his eyes.

‘We are hiding aren’t we sir?’ Maddy said.

‘No, we are waiting. We are looking for an opportunity to go in.’ Solomon explained to his long time friend and biggest critic. Wiseass.

‘Sir, the three dragons are inside. What do you expect to do with the said opportunity?’

‘Why Maddy, steal the gold!’ Solomon said with a glint of greed in his eyes.

‘The three dragons breathe fire sir!’

‘We breathe oxygen and they burn oxygen. We are somewhat alike than you think Maddy. Plus, I am going to steal the gold and not try to ask them not to breathe fire. ‘

‘Aye. I’m sure that is what the 20 soldiers outside the cave did. It clearly didn’t work out well for them. ‘

Solomon couldn’t say anything to that. He has seen the bodies with his own eyes, or the one eye he still had working. 20 or so soldiers’ bodies were burned beyond recognition and some bones had fused together. It was an estimate that they were just human bodies and no animals were mixed together with them. When those three dragons had ventured out unexpectedly, the soldiers were not ready.

No one will be ready for one dragon and those poor soldiers were facing three. Their last moments would be filled with smell of shit, piss and intense heat.

‘Yeah you are correct. I need gold Maddy. I can’t go back to being a fisherman. The dragons burned my boat, they boiled the lake water. Did you know that fishes were cooked in the lake because of the heat. Sure there are enough fishes for everyone now, but it will not last. I am collecting gold for the damage they have caused.’

‘The dragons will not see it that way.’

‘They will never know when I am in and out’

‘That is what she said’

Solomon looked at his friend and saw him trying to hold on to his maniacal laughter. Once Maddy started laughing, he laughed like a madman.Maddy succeeded for a second but looking at Solomon’s lips curl he burst into loud laughter. Solomon couldn’t stop himself and started laughing with his friend.

In their laughter, they gave away their hideout position to the other groups arrayed around the cave mouth. They never noticed the dragon’s head looming out of the cave either.

Daily Post: Glittter (Fantasy Fiction)


‘I wanna go out Dad!’

‘Out? Did you say OUT?’ Dad screamed back at his son.

‘Yes dad. I am bored here, there is nothing to do. We are living on heaps of gold which is really uncomfortable to sleep over. I have not seen the sun or the moon in over 3 years.’

‘What are you talking about? We have been here only for 3 months.’ Dad said and then looked elsewhere. He turned back to face his son ‘Anyway you know there are people waiting outside so that they can kill us.’

‘Humans are small. We can kill them.Killing most of them is how we got inside right?’

Dad looked thoughtful, contemplating his son’s logic as that is how he got the bed of gold. He arrived like summer’s heatwave, scorching the fields outside the mountain. He would have had a difficult time to kill everyone if he had come alone but he didn’t. He brought his family with him.

Humans might be able to withstand and rally together to fight one of his kind, but against three they would have to run like babies. He looked towards where his mate slept. She looked so peaceful sleeping there that he had urge to go to her. She wouldn’t like that though, after all between the two of them: she was more ferocious.

His son though, he was the perfect mixture between his reptilian methods and his mate’s hot anger. However, his temperament was marred by the lack of patience and for the last couple of days he kept bothering for different things to do.

‘Alright, what do you plan on doing once you go outside?’

‘Fly! I don’t even know if I can fly anymore. I think I am just too fat to fly now. I also want to scare the sheep. I want to set lands and trees on fire. I want to make new friends.’

‘You know right that your friends will the first one to try and kill you?’

‘Yes I know that.’

He waited for his son to say something more but clearly his son had nothing more to add. He looked carefully at his son then: the glitter of the gold lying all around them shined on his jaw. His son looked…sad.

He got up, and shook off the gold coins off his scales. He can always find another cave filled with gold. But first he needed to entertain his son around and that is what he was gonna do.

‘I am taking our son outside. Do you wanna come with us?’ He asked his mate and braced himself for her attack. She did not like being awakened from her somber.

‘You are an idiot. You will not be able to care for him so I will have to come along with you. ‘ his mate grumbled. She wouldn’t have liked if he went to her but for her son she would let go of her sleep and he would let go of his bed of gold.

The three dragons went outside that night, flying and kissing the moon. Then they set the night sky aflame.

Daily Post: Tremble (Science Fiction)


‘How is my baby?’ I ask the doctor. He looks like he is going to say something but then he stops. He looks away from me for a second while I wait for his face to show any sign of trouble. He is old, definitely more than 150 years old as his silicon skin has developed wrinkles. His hair is starting to gray and his irises are dissolving into his eye substrate.

He looks at me again and says ‘Lucy should be fine. Her operation was not without consequences but she made it through. As you may know, consciousness implantation is hardly done on 8 year old kids. The brain is just not strong enough to sustain the imaging.’

He pauses expecting more questions from me. I don’t want to ask questions, I want to stand up and shout at him to tell me how is my daughter. I couldn’t do that though, this man is trying to save my daughter. I grab on to the seat posts and squeeze to control my anger. I hope he does not notice my white knuckles.

‘She is still under medication, so we do not know how will she be when she wakes up. Her medication should wear off in the next two hours.’ he finishes.

I take a deep breath. Lucy is alive and sleeping for now. Nothing has happened to her, and when she wakes up she should be completely okay. A lot of people have done consciousness implantation, they always turn out okay.

I turned out okay and my implantation was 50 years ago! Surely the technology has advanced enough for Lucy to be completely fine. She should be able to live a long life, her new body should be able to take care of her mind.

No more trembling limbs or seizures.

I thank him and go out of his office to call my relatives and friends. Most of them went home during the implantation surgery, even though it was only 6 hours long. Those were the longest 6 hours of my life.

Now I have to wait another two.

I spend the entire time calling people and lastly I call up my parents to inform them. They had been living for nearly 200 years now and yet they still have trouble using holograms. They always know how to make me smile with their simplicity.

Two hours later, Lucy gingerly wakes up. The heart rate and other body signals were being displayed on the wall screen behind her, the sound of her heart beat smooth and healthy cause if it wasn’t then there would be alerts.

She looks at me and smiles. I smile back, hope surging through my heart. I pick up her hand to hold her and say I am here sweety everything is going to be just fine.

I am the first person to notice her hand tremble.


 

Thank you for reading!

 

Daily Prompt: Craftmanship (War Fiction)


‘Metal forging is a craft, a skill that one in every 100 men have. Sure, anyone can heat up metal but how to mold it into a sword or an armor: that is a skill. When to cool a metal and how much to beat it, these things can be only done by instincts. You have the knack for this kind of craft. So promise me Pete that the only time you pick up a sword or a hammer is to deliver it. Battle is better off for others.’

Pete remembered that particular conversation with his grandpa. He could never forget it, he has trouble remembering his grandpa’s face at times but that conversation was easy to recall. It shaped his life.

He deeply breathed, trying to steady his speeding heartbeat. He was scared. He has never stepped out on a battlefield before and now the battle was outside. His brothers, the soldiers with whom he has grown up were getting slaughtered outside and he could hear women screaming. Houses were aflame, horses were running wild and the world sounded like it was about to end.

Maybe it was.

He looked at around his armory: he had a hammer, his favorite, a sword and some knives. Enough to fight with, enough to die with it. He knew a little about fighting but he was prepared: he threw his sword into the flame to heat it up. Nothing burned more than seared flesh and he was going to use the heat. His hammer had a long shaft which would be perfect for swinging and gave him reach. Knives would be perfect for arm to arm combat.

Let’s go.

He could hear some men standing outside his hut and swords clashing. He was not sure but he could hear someone cursing in his native tongue. There was a squeal and the swords stopped ringing. One final curse in his native tongue and someone fell down.

Pete ran outside his hands on the heated sword with his hammer on his back. In a second he had swung his sword and had cleanly decapitated a soldier. The heated metal had sealed the wound so no blood came pulsating out. Maybe it was the lack of blood that gave him an advantage as no one turned towards him until too late.

He cut off another soldier’s sword hand, sealing the wound. He turned his attention towards to the other soldiers standing around him: three more, four if you count the maimed soldier. He screamed a battle cry his friends had thought him a while ago, his voice eerily strong.

The soldiers were ready and were able to deflect his swings with ease. However, the sword’s heat threw them backward. He was bigger than all three of them, so he swung again this time putting his full weight on the swing. It worked as the soldier made the mistake of blocking the swing rather than deflecting it. Both the swords were thrust into the soldier’s chest and locking them together. Pete tried to pry loose his sword but to no avail. He had two more to kill for now but he couldn’t do it.

One soldier was at arm’s reach so he did just that, he grabbed the soldier’s neck and squeezed while he kicked the other. With only one soldier to focus on he grabbed his knife and thrust it in the soldier’s eye socket.

With one soldier and one maimed soldier left, he grabbed his hammer.

He could see another group of soldiers in the distance, they had noticed him as well. No matter, he will get to them soon enough. He swung his hammer low and blew the maimed soldier’s knee out. He kept the momentum of the swing and turned around to aim the hammer on the soldier’s head.

It was just like beating a metal into shape. Only this time blood came out.

More soldiers, none of them had any long range weapon. They would die soon. That day, the village was Pete’s forge. All the soldiers were infantry it was a while before any archers made contact with Pete. By the time they did, at least 50 were smashed and the hammer was glistening with blood.

An arrow through Pete’s heart put him down.

Daily Prompt: Recognize (Fiction)


“Do you know who this man is?” Counselor Michaels asked the witness. It was a very important question as it will either make or break the case. However, the witness couldn’t have been more unreliable.

Joe Monley was a two time convicted felon, one for B&E and the other for manslaughter. He has been clean for ten years now but there is always a shred of doubt when putting people like Joe on the stand.

Plus, a couple of days ago newspapers have discovered that Joe had an alcohol addiction. Alcoholics Anonymous was supposed to be well, anonymous. This revelation had put Joe’s testimony into jeopardy and Michaels would have removed him from the stand if he had any other witness.

No one else in the bar had seen the kidnapping of the waitress. No one in an entire bar.

The counselor waited for Monley to answer, his hands behind his back holding a pencil. He was tensed and was flexing the pencil. If Joe did not answer anytime soon then he would snap the pencil.

“Yes I do” Joe answered. Michaels eased off the pencil and continued on the prepared set of questions. Michaels plan was initially focus on the kidnapping but in light of recent events, he had to make some changes.

He had to provoke his client that day and he would never forgive himself. After Joe had answered all of the prepared questions perfectly, it was time for Michaels to take the rug from underneath the defense. He was sure that the defense would questions Joe’s testimony considering his Alcoholic Anonymous membership.

“How long have you been going to AA meetings Mr Monley?”

Joe’s head snapped into attention, his eyes narrowing. This was a low blow and even the defense was not completely prepared for this.

“Three years. I have been sober for the last two years”

“Then what were you doing in the bar?” Michaels asked.

After the papers leaked details of Joe’s AA membership, Michaels had asked Joe the same question and Joe stormed off. Now he could not storm off the courtyard.

“I was meeting somebody. I am sponsoring somebody and he had relapsed. I was there to take him home and take care of him.”

Michaels could have continued, but he stopped. He had already crossed a line with these questions but if he asked who Joe was sponsoring then it would be more…dirty.

He thanked the witness and the Judge concluding his line of questions.

Joe had done what was expected of him: recognize the kidnapper.

Daily Prompt: Replacement (Science Fiction)


‘You are pregnant!’ the monitor displayed with tiny GIFs of babies crawling sprawled across the screen like confetti. The screen thought it was a celebration.

Tessa did not want to celebrate though. A baby meant work, lots of hard work and who does that these days. Amongst her sisters, only one had a baby and till this day she says that it were one of the most excruciating experiences of her life. The same sister also says that it was a memorable moment for her.

Why would anyone want to remember pain?! Everyone else, like normal people would rather skip the pain and enjoy the perks.

Tessa asked the screen ‘What do I do now?’

Moni, the AI which controlled her house responded gave her a few options. She decided that she would have to meet with a doctor once to discuss some options. She doesn’t want to be burdened by the pain.


 

‘I am pregnant’ she told her friends, Ali and Javier. They both looked at each other, trying to guess who the father is. It was common these days to have children with your friends as who would like to go outside and try to find a mate. It is a long and painful process.

Alcohol helps with the pain but it gives immense hangover. Technology has advanced and there are some great hangover remedies, but the stronger the remedies became people drank even more.

After about 30 seconds of staring at one another in silence, both of them raised their glasses and clicked them. They were not toasting to their ‘success’ but they wanted to get rid of the elephant in the room without actually talking about the elephant in the room.

Tessa did not want any part of this discussion so she stared around at the bar. The bar tried to emulate the feel of 1960s and it looked remarkably similar. There was some kind of RF signal in the air which made all the guests sway to the Jazz music being played the bar AI.

‘What do we do now?’ Javier asked.

She almost choked on her drink. She had only told them about the baby but she did not tell them that neither of them was the father. She told them now.

They sat silently again for a couple of seconds and both of them ordered lots of Tequila shots. Biologically, she shouldn’t drink. But she drank anyway cause Moni had already copied her embryo’s genetic makeup.

Tomorrow, her doctor would already know what her baby would look like.


 

‘You want SurroMother?’ the doctor asked again for confirmation.

Tessa looked at the artificially generated face of her yet-to-be born son. He would look good when he grows up.

He just won’t grow up in her womb. No pain.

‘Yes’ she confirmed.


 

The night after her appointment with her doctor Tessa did not feel like staying at home. She went out again, this time not calling her friends and drank the bar dry. She met another guy and went with him. She just hoped there would not be another baby this time.

No pain.


I couldn’t place replacement anywhere in the post.

Daily Prompt: Exquisite Art (Fiction)


‘What is stolen?’ the curator exclaimed.

Security guard swallowed, remembering that it was her job to keep The Pandora safe in the museum. After all, it was the only painting in the world which can be spread 360 degree.

Now, someone had stolen it.


 

‘Hey bro!’ the street beggar called out to the passing police officer. The officer never changed his step and ignored the beggar completely.

The ones who are supposed to protect everyone sometimes have a different notion of everyone.

‘Alright, I could have told you about the painting.’ the beggar mumbled.


 

‘How much did this painting cost?’ the officer asked.

‘How much?!’ the curator exclaims. He always hated those who had no clue about art. He hated those more who tried to put a price tag over something so unique as The Pandora.

‘It was priceless! There was never any other painting like this. You ask me the price? It took Vincent Bonjo 15 years to make that painting. He ran out of money, he lost his house and eventually completed the painting while staying on the streets. Where else can anyone find a painting like this?’

‘It still would have been evaluated. Any estimate would do sir, we would like to know how much monetary value was actually stolen.’

‘3 years ago it could have bought a small state in this country. Three years ago? After a while we stopped estimating the price because we would need bigger numbers.’

‘Okay priceless was better.’

‘That is what I said.’

‘Any offers to buy the painting recently?’

‘No offers recently. The painting had been stored away as the wing was under construction for a while and it was going to be unveiled tomorrow.’

‘When did the construction complete?’

‘How would I know? I am in charge of the paintings and not the refurbishment.’

‘In charge of the painting? Clearly you were not good at your job.’

‘I am not in charge of the security. She was not good at his job. I fired her!’

‘Fired her? So the security in charge is not here? We would like to talk to her.’

The curator at this point called over his security for further information about the on duty guard. The officer exchanged some pleasantries before jumping to the topic of the guard.

There was something nagging him though, how could someone steal a huge 360 degree painting?

‘How big was the painting?’

‘I already told you the painting was the biggest deal!’

‘No you told me that the painting was one of the kind but you did not tell me the size of the painting.’

‘Oh the painting is about 20 m long and 1 m wide.’

‘That is not a large painting. It could have been easily stolen along with the construction equipment. I would like to know about the construction company.’


‘Hey bro!’ the beggar called out to the curator who was walking past. Even he did not look at the beggar, as if the space occupied by the beggar was non existent.

‘Shame! I could have told you about the painting.’ the beggar mumbles.


 

‘We don’t know anything about any painting.’ the suspect avows.

‘Then give us the name of every construction worker in the last couple of days.’ the officer counters.

‘Sure I already gave them. Your partner has them.’

‘He does?’

‘Yeah he does.’

‘Then why did you let me go all Hulk on you?’

‘I tried to tell you that your partner has them but you didn’t let me.’

‘But you should have told me sooner’

‘You did not let me!’

The officer looked around, clearly embarrassed about his mess up. He then slowly sulked away from the suspect as the suspect looked on. Just as the officer was about to leave the line of sight, he turned back at the suspect and says:

‘Don’t leave town.’


 

‘Hey fellows!’ the beggar greets some police officers. They ignore him too but he tries again. This time, one of the police officer answers.

‘What?’

‘You are here about the painting right?’

‘How the hell you know about that?’

‘I live right outside the museum.’

‘And you are high all the time.’

‘It is not my fault that petrol is so easily available’

‘What do you know about the painting?’

‘Just that the construction workers dropped something big on their way out.’

‘How big?’

‘About 20 X 1 m big’

‘You know where it is?’

‘I just have one condition.’


 

One week later after the case has been closed and the museum reopened. The guests were all patiently waiting for the opening of the new wing. They waited for the curtain to be opened so that they can be ushered into the wing and look at the The Pandora.

All except one person who was already standing inside the new wing, turning around to look at the 360 degree painting. The curator entered the wing and met the beggar.

‘It is beautiful isn’t it?’ the curator greets.

‘Yeah making it was very difficult’

‘I should thank you for that’ the curator paused and then added ‘You don’t look the same as you did back then’

‘Yeah, you know I ran out of colors at the end. I had to use some rotten tomatoes and other stuff I found in the garbage to finish this’

‘You wanted it to be called The Garbage

‘You wanted an exquisite name for an exquisite painting?’

Vincent Bonjo winked at the curator as their deal was now done. The painting was world famous, the curator had enough donations into this place and finally, the maker could see his masterpiece as a whole for the first time.


 

Thank you for reading! Keep commenting on the posts.

Daily Prompt: Infinite (Fiction)


‘Do you know that the hummingbird’s wings make the infinite sign while flapping? No? It is one of the lines from that movie where the guy aged in reverse. Wonderful movie, a little slow for my pace though.’

Adil nodded. He knew that movie ‘Curious Case of Benjamin Button’. He had seen it a couple of times with some of his friends. He looked up at the speaker, his uncle was walking him to some place he did not know where.

His uncle would probably buy him some chocolates which suited him just fine. His uncle was one of the best guys he knew, he secretly aspired to grow just like his uncle. He bought a blue checkered flannel shirt and black jeans which looked similar to the one his uncle was wearing.

His uncle loved flannel. He already knew that his uncle owned no T-shirt, all he had was flannel. Many of Adil’s friends said that flannel is worn by old men who had no sense of fashion, their opinion would be seriously challenged when they met his uncle.

Adil’s mother once told him a school story of his uncle. She said that even then his uncle knew how to flaunt a flannel shirt, way back then when everyone wore flannel shirts. She said all of her friends secretly adored his uncle.

The story was another reason why he wanted to rock those flannels too.

His uncle was still saying something but he was too busy fantasying about his future and the flannel shirts. He felt a hand on his hand and he looked up. His uncle had a frown on his face as he asked Adil what happened.

‘Nothing. Nothing I was just thinking, thinking about the hummingbird.’ he answered.

‘What hummingbird?’ his uncle asked bemused.

‘The one you told me about.’

‘I was not talking about any hummingbird.’

Now both of them were confused. Adil was wondering why was his uncle lying. He was also wondering about the chocolates.

‘It is okay.’ his uncle answered, shrugging off. Adil had a peculiarity of mentally wandering off. Nowadays, that peculiarity has been enhanced ever since the surgery. A huge trauma to the head can have effects, doctors had said. Adil was still conscious, talking and sometimes walking. Another difficulty for Adil was remembering relationships. Hence, Adil called his father sometimes his uncle.

It was a small mercy that his son still knew him. It is a big mercy that his son was still alive. He will learn to cope with his son’s almost limitless mental wanderings.

‘Uncle?’ Adil looked up at his father, breaking his father’s heart ‘Where are we going?’

‘Going?’ his father was confused again. But he would play his son’s game again ‘We can go where you want to. The only thing stopping you is your brain and once it is open, the possibilities are infinite!’


 

Thank you for reading. This was fun to write and feel free to tell me what you liked and what you didn’t!

 

Fiction: At the races


Chris sat at the stall, waiting for Selena to show up. The race was about to start and she was nowhere to be seen, it was her idea to spend the Sunday on a racetrack. They arrived at the scene together but then she said she needed to use the loo. Now, half hour later, the horses were all lined up and it has to be only a couple of minutes before the whistle is blown and the race starts.

The excitement of the race was enough for Chris to forget about Selena, even if he didn’t want to. Selena had warned him that races are addictive and from the moment they are lined up, the adrenaline high he felt was indescribable. Chris could no longer disagree with it, he was skeptical about it at first. All around him he could see people cheering on, screaming for the race to start. Some were already a little tipsy, after all the bar was open for significant time. Now, the bets have all been made and the bookies are all waiting for the results to be out. Many people will leave the race with money enough to party all night long in London and others will go home, get drunk and curse their misfortune.

For Chris, caution and self control was the key. Before the excitement had surged, he had already made modest bets on horse number 7. Because of this, he wasn’t worried about losing a lot of money, neither was he anticipating good profits. The bets were more of ‘When in Rome, do it like the Romans do’ kind of an act. However, now he had to control his impulses to just go and make a few bets.

Where is Selena? he thought. His heart was pumping and he could feel sweat budding on his forehead. He used his napkin to wipe the sweat but there was nothing more he could do for his heart. Except drink more ale.

As he took a sip, the whistle was blown and Selena was nowhere to be seen.


 

Selena threw her knife at the copper’s chest and it him right in the middle. She didn’t stop to check whether or not he was dead, she just rolled over to be away from the other coppers’ line of fire. This was a disaster, she thought as she exhaled a mouthful of air.

Chris would not have ever guessed why she wanted to come for the races. Now, her elaborate plan had been shattered to pieces and all she could think of is his safety. What has happened to her?

A shot was fired and it hit the wooden panel to the left of her head. She whipped her head around to see more coppers coming in the tent, one of them with an automatic weapon.

Damn! she cursed her stupidity. The henchmen now know who she is and also would find out who she came here with. There is no going back to anonymity after what has happened here and they will keep hunting her. Screw it, she thought as she tore away the bulky dress and freed her legs for more agility. Underneath the dress she had an arsenal of weapons: knives, shooting stars and one revolver. The revolver was for desperate measures only as it had only 6 shots and she didn’t bring in a lot of bullets.

She glanced back from the hole in the panel and counted. 10, 11… 12 coppers she could see out there. This was not going to be easy but she has done this kind of thing before too. If all goes well, then she should be able to escape with a couple of broken ribs and maybe one gunshot wound. If all goes well..

No time to waste now, she thought as she grabbed a couple of throwing knives, removed her heels and held them both in different hands. The knives were the main weapons, heels were for close combat.

She brought mayhem to the tent as she threw her knife at the pole holding the structure and the canvas barred her opponents vision.


 

The chorus of men, women screaming as soon as the whistle blew was deafening. Chris was jolted and he added his voice to the crowd, swept along with the flow.

He could see the horses running fast and faster, already covered up a quarter of the track within seconds. His number 7 was not in the lead but he could hear someone screaming ‘Yes’ for the lead horse, number 9.

Chris had an growing urge to just hit the guy whose horse was in the lead. He turned around to see who it was and saw and elderly man with binoculars to his eyes. The elderly man had not noticed Chris yet but Chris noticed the man’s companion.

Clearly 30 years younger than him, the companion was someone Chris had seen a while ago. He remembered going to a party along with Selena and the girl was either the hostess of the party or another guest. He had never seen the elderly man before.

The girl was an anomaly in the crowd. While everyone else was screaming their lungs out over the horses, the girl sat mute and composed. She noticed his attention and he quickly looked away.

Looking at the girl made him realize that Selena was not here yet and she was still missing out on the race. It was her idea damn it!


 

4 dead and 8 more to go. As soon as the canvas had fallen down, Selena moved with the grace that would have made snakes piss. Within seconds she had slashed three coppers’ throats and had stabbed the fourth. However, the time spent on killing the four was enough for the other’s to come within sight of her. One of them opened fire and he felt a stab of pain in her left calf.

From experience, she knew what a gunshot wound felt like. This pain that she felt was nothing close to that pain meaning that the shooter had missed. Well, she will not miss. She turned in a circle and aimed, used her momentum and drove her knife at the copper’s head. She was moving before he dropped to the ground.

Two more in front of her and she had no knives in her hand anymore. She had heels nonetheless and it was time that men knew how much heels hurt. With her right hand she hit the copper’s gun away and her left hand uppercut the other with the heel. There was a spray of blood on her face but she didn’t stop. She brought in her left towards the head of the copper and the right towards the stomach. He dodged her left but her right lodged in his stomach. She left her heel in his stomach and moved on, leaving him to his slow agonizing death.

No more knives but she still had the gun and there were only 6 left. There were also some other guns lying around and now she picked them up. Halfway through with this, she was struggling to believe that there hardly any damage to her when the automatic opened fire.

Something like a truck hit her shoulder and she fell to the ground by the force. She lost the gun from her hand but it was still within reach. She could see she was surrounded and the automatic gunman was still active.

Well, it was a long shot anyway.


 

The race finished and Chris had never been this high. He had not won his bet but he still had an amazing experience. The elderly man was more excited as he had just won the bet.

The girl had finally moved and now was standing just above him. She whispered, ‘We always win’ just as she stabbed him in the back.


Inspiration: Peaky Blinders Season 2 Episode 6

Fiction: Waiting for a Train


‘He will be here, his letter said so.’ Maduram said. Sindhu, the station master observed Maduram sceptically. Madhuram was old, looked frail, he should not be out on a cold night without any warm clothes. His threadbare kurti and lungi could scarcely provide warmth, his shawl looked older than Madhuram. Regardless Maduram was here waiting for an rich American traveler. Sindhu was afraid that this was a case of delirium, old people do have a tendency to go a little nuts.

Sindhu knew Madhuram, they have spoken before and he was also aware of why everyone in the village were so found of Madhuram. Sindhu, a born cynic and skeptic trusted Madhuram! Sindhu had been the station master for 15 long and hot years. He had seen travelers coming to the village to visit the iconic Kali Mandir, he had witnessed teary goodbyes from mothers to their sons as they left for Mumbai, the city of dreams. In 15 years multitude things changed, a few didn’t. The tea stall outside the station still made disgusting tea, it had more water than milk. The wages Sindhu received still hadn’t changed much, while the town grew his salary crawled. Lastly, Madhuram was always outside the station greeting customers as if a mother greets her sons. No wonder people who returned always asked for Madhuram.

Madhuram was older than 70, he looked 80 years old. His teeth have started to fall off and whenever he smiled now, Sindhu was terrified a little. But as Madhuram spoke, the apprehension vanished and a familiar sense of comfort replaced it. Over the years, Madhuram never stopped driving around his rickshaw. There were better rickshaws available in the market but Madhuram never sold his old vehicle. Sindhu never asked why, he still had his first bicycle.

It hurt Sindhu, for he was looking at someone who was as close as a friend, start slowly loose his mind. Sindhu knew nothing about Madhuram’s family and he couldn’t leave Madhuram alone on the station like this. So he just sat there and listened to Madhuram talk about his English friend. Other rickshaw drivers conned travelers but Sindhu opened his heart to them. Maduram had the heart & wealth of a saint. He would never con, he would never bicker with anyone. He has been like that, as far as Sindhu can tell, he would die with a heart that doesn’t belong in this world. The least Sindhu could do was to listen as one of the best people he knew prattle.

 


 

25 years ago, Maduram saw a firangi (foreigner) depart the train. Every rickshaw driver knew that this meant dollars. Luckily for him that day, he was the only rickshaw driver. Pankaj had gone off for lunch and so Maduram approached the firangi. Madhuram knew that the firangi was lost, frustrated and a little angry just by looking at him. Madhuram did something that he hardly ever did: he smiled and greeted the firangi. The tension evaporated from firangi’s stature and he said “Maandir?”

Firangi trying to speak hindi was hilarious incident for Madhuram.  He drove the firangi, who said his name was Peter, to the temple of Kali. One the way they both spoke, Madhuram slowly reminiscing his time in Mumbai. He had learned some English when he was in Mumbai, when he was young and stupid. So they spoke in broken languages of one another and somehow the two wrongs made right and a bond was born, stronger than anything Madhuram had ever known before. The entire day Madhuram drove Peter around, first to the temple, then to the river where all the village wives washed clothes and then to the old film set where Amitabh Bachan had shot his first movie. All of the places had no tourists, they were all places where Madhuram had spent his youth in; where he had decided that it was time he became something like Amitabh himself.

As night fell, Madhuram invited Peter to their home. Peter accepted and as they reached home, Peter was shocked and Madhuram abashed. The ‘home’ of Madhuram’s family was nothing more than a small shed where he lived with his wife and son. But Madhuram didn’t relent and treated Peter more like a brother than a guest. Peter was an Englishman visiting India as he wanted to experience what his ancestors did. Peter wanted to know what made his grandfather love this country so much. Peter also said that his experience so far had contradicted everything his grandfather had told him.

Madhuram however, was excited and apprehensive at the same time. He had met some firangi when he was a young man, living in Mumbai with wide eyed dreams of making it to the big screen just like Amitabh Bachan or Dharmender. He never could become great, and he was too straight for the crooked lifestyle. Everyone in the village kept asking him about the life in Mumbai and he narrated the story. However his story made more naive youngsters leave the village chasing the same dreams.

Peter enjoyed the tour around the places in the village. He was comfortable in the tiny abode of Madhuram’s. Madhuram’s wife Sita blushed whenever Madhuram complimented her food. His son, Dhanu kept looking at Peter as if he was alien, got a scolding from Madhuram as soon as he noticed. It was astonishing for Peter to see how such a family of three can live in a small house, but nevertheless the hospitality offered was better than the best hotel. The food was another paradise perfectly crafted in a small ceramic plate, which was different from the metal plates the family ate in. Sita didn’t speak at all, she couldn’t speak English. Dhanu knew English than Madhuram and Madhuram was proud.

‘I learnt English Bombay, I learn English Dhanu’ Madhuram proudly stated.

Peter laughed at the statement, a simple statement that had was medley of pride, joy and sorrow rolled in one. He was taken back by the emotions packed. The family was in itself complete regardless of the materialistic lacking. They kept asking Peter to stay in their house even before the dinner was done. Peter never said yes but they insisted and Dhanu ran outside to fetch a better mattress. Madhuram had not yet even taken fare from Peter.

 


 

Postal addresses were exchanged before Peter departed. Sita and Dhanu stayed back home while Madhuram drove Peter to the station. Madhuram refused Peter’s money.

‘Money from bhai?’ Madhuram asked refusing Peters’ insistence.

Peter never knew what bhai meant, but the word stayed with him. A month after Peter left, Dhanu came home gleefully. Turns out there was a letter in Madhuram’s name at the post office near the school. Madhuram couldn’t read the letter but Dhanu could. Somehow, Peter had tracked a person in London who could write in Hindi as well and there was a two paged letter, one in English and other in Hindi. Peter mentioned his family, his grandfather and his girlfriend. Madhuram didn’t know what girlfriend meant but Dhanu grinned embarrassingly.

The letter was signed off with ‘Bhai, Peter’.

Over the months that followed Dhanu kept coming home with similar letters and he kept sending more letters out of the country. Madhuram spent a days’ wages on the letters and eventually he didn’t need Dhanu to read the letters. 3 years passed this way but suddenly the letters stopped. Madhuram got worried as he knew that on 20th of every month a letter would arrive. It was 30th and still no letter. He went to the post office daily to check but still no letter. He sent more letters asking what had happened but no reply. Years passed and Dhanu went to the city for study. Sita got pregnant but she couldn’t survive childbirth and the girl was stillborn. While Dhanu tried to make his studies and a grieving father priorities, Madhuram sent him back to the city to complete his studies. Madhuram grew distant, and he sent another letter to a bhai across the globe. No reply.

He never invited anyone to his home anymore, he had no home other than a shed. He treated everyone the same way he treated Peter and showed them all the temples, the rivers and the film locations. Some were happy, most were annoyed. Most just thought he was cheating them for more fare. His son was gone, making money and name for himself, Madhuram was proud of him, but he hardly got time to visit his village anymore. Madhuram wrote another letter.

One day Dhanu came home unexpectedly and he had a letter with him.

 


 

Sindhu couldn’t believe it. Friends, one English and the other an ordinary rickshaw driver. They didn’t share a language, they didn’t share any cultural background but they shared bond stronger than any he had ever known. Sindhu’s father had mentioned Madhuram, he had said Madhuram is one of the very souls which could imbue loyalty from a thief. Sindhu however was never aware of the hardships Madhuram had suffered. It is one thing to hear about someone’s loss. It is even more devastating to listen to the person narrate his loss.

The train horned distantly and Sindhu looked away from Madhuram, conscious that tears might fall. He knew he would be at the station when the two friends reunited. He hoped he would be strong enough to witness it. Moreover he hoped that Peter actually shows up.

When the train finally stopped, Madhuram bolted upright, his moderately strong vision scanning the crowd in light of a few bulbs. Sindhu scanned the crowd as well, how hard can it be to spot one white among so many colors. He spotted an old white man soon enough and directed Madhuram towards him.

Peter looked worse than Madhuram, there was some problem with him. Sindhu almost flinched when he saw Peter, he resembled a leper. But Madhuram, he was overjoyed. Tears rushing from his eyes as waterfalls and ran to embrace his friend. It was out worldly to witness this, an ordinary old man hugging a diseased white man.

Sindhu, for the first time in years cried seeing them. The onlookers were damned, he knew he was changed forever. Madhuram tried to speak but his throat was rocked with sobs, his old body shivering. Peter, he never knew he could ever know peace like this ever again, especially when he knew he had only weeks to live.

 


 

The story was inspired by Pico Iyer’s personal essay I had read in ‘Burn This Book’. Short story plucked all the heartstrings.

Poem: Trying too Hard (NZ National Poetry Day 2016)


Inspired by a recent Meetup I just went to & today’s Daily Prompt challenge: Obvious. I decided to try poetry for the day.


 

Trying too hard you say,
Mockery spurns away.
Why is this such a bad thing?
Everyone wants to fit in.

It is easy for many to find their places,
others struggle to find spaces.
Trying too hard you say,
with disgust and others hearsay.

Stop with your pretentiousness,
Embrace the awkwardness.
Be kind in with your words,
they are sharper than swords.

Many grew in times,
when one had to earn their wines.
Nothing was a mouseclick distant,
Nothing was a publicity stunt.

Trying too hard you say,
Mockery spurns away.
Fitting in is what makes us,
can’t you what’s Obvious?


 

Other entries in Daily Post Challenge:

Fiction: Characters in Bookworld?


Credits: Buzzfeed Books, FB

 

(I saw this on Facebook and I had to write on this!)

John could see the train coming in the tunnel, the beacon becoming brighter. Newmarket train Station in Auckland was extremely crowded. Considering the station had every line passing through it, it meant it was as important as Britomart Transport Centre. However, John had this stinking feeling that he had been here before even though he had never.

He had seen the train on different stations before too, he could guess he had seen the train driver before. The station masters in their yellow high visibility jacket were standing at the yellow line of the platform to ensure that no one crosses it as the train was almost at the station, a few seconds away. The girl next to him was playing Candy Crush on her iPhone, and his feeling intensified. He had seen that girl before, he just couldn’t recall when. He frowned, trying to remember when had he seen a scene which was so similar, the train light shining down the tunnel, the girl and the people. The loudspeakers boomed saying “Train for Swanson is arriving on platform 1, please stand behind the yellow line”

The wind blew across the station and someone lose their purple scarf. That purple scarf, he thought as it kept flowing and slammed into his face. He knew now, all of this had happened before. He had been here on the station before, seen the Candy Crush playing girl before right here and that scarf had hit him in his face before. Everything had happened before, only it really hadn’t. How? Why?

The train whoozed past him, slowing down and stopped, the door right in front of him. People pressed the green button to open the doors. He just stood there, the purple scarf had tied itself to his neck now and there was someone in his periphery. Another girl, no not a girl this time but an old woman. He realised that the scarf belonged to the woman and he apologised. Untying the scarf he handed it to her and smiled, the old woman smiled back. This was new. He could recollect some of the things which had happened last time. But last time? It was his first time here on the station wasn’t it?

He was no longer sure. He was sure that the previously he entered the train. After that what happened he was not sure. He had an interview to get to but he was too lost in his thoughts. The Candy Crush girl stood near the now opened door, the old woman was making her way to the reserved seats. He knew he had got in the train the last time.

This time, he didn’t want to. So he didn’t and slowly the train doors closed with a beeping sound signalling closing doors. He had just wasted his ticket but he didn’t care. He had a strange feeling that this was bigger than any other job waiting for him.

He knew that his story was written differently. Now it has started fresh.

Fiction: What is Success?


(The following piece is inspired by a conversation I had with a couple of friends)

The restaurant is pretty busy. There is long queue of people who are waiting to dine in here but those who are having their dinners here do not want to vacate their tables even after they are done. The tiny restaurant is hardly 5 years old but is already more popular than most others along the Mount Eden Road stretch in Auckland. In one of the tables sat two families with children of the similar ages. The fathers are talking about the latest business deal they had closed while the mothers are chatting about the latest gossips. The kids are however busy with something else.

“Oo I caught a Charmandar!” Rick exclaimed.

“Wow” exclaims Jeremiah agog. Their fathers shake their heads at the early addiction signs of the game and resume their conversation. While Pokemon is a game based on a TV show from the time when the fathers were young, now they do not have the time to relive the young memories, the nostalgia. They are busy chasing one benchmark after another. Just like the owner of the restaurant who is trying every trick in the book to be a perfect gourmet.

“So you have a Charmandar, what do we do now?” asks Jeremiah more interested in the game than the conversation his parents are having. His mother looks towards him, thinking about how materialistic her son is becoming. She remembers her own childhood when she would be happy if she had just a Barbie or a teddy. But Jeremiah wants more so her husband works more hours. What is happening to her perfect life she wonders.

“I don’t know. But  I think I am going to battle the gym leader, beat him.” Rick explains. “If I am successful, then I will be in control of the gym for my team.”

Jeremiah picks up a word from the conversation his father is having, something about the youth not knowing what success is. Jeremiah shouts suddenly.

“Dad I know what success is!”

(image credits: Mind Protein)

Fiction: Burying my companions secrets


I am killing some zombies on my PlayZ console. The console and the game are really ancient at this point and I have mastered the game by now. But it is still crazy. I want to buy some new game, maybe military FPS this time but my mom wouldn’t give me any money. What’s the point of earning so much money if no one enjoys it?!

To make it worse my damn WiFi is down. Some construction work at the end of the street and now no one has any network. It’s like living in the freaking apocalypse only without any zombies to kill. I get a call from Adam.

“Hey buddy what are you doing?” He asks loudly on the phone in his cocky English accent. I hate it when he calls me and talks like that. He knows it.

“What do you want?” I snap at him, angry about the interruption and accent.

“Haha” he jibes on the phone, perfectly aware that I hate his accent. No wonder we are best friends.

“Alright I’ll speak. If you are not free then it’s cool but if you are free then can you come over and help me bury a body?”

Damn! He did it again. I want to shout on the phone, throw my phone away in anger. But it won’t matter to him. I know him too well.

“Okay cool I’ll be there in 10.”

I never could say no to my friends. And zombies are getting kind of boring anyway.


 

We are outside Adam’s house, in the backyard with only moonlight to help guide us. It is drizzling and in five minutes my clothes are damp from sweat and rain. If our moms found out that we are outside instead of studying then she would kill us. She will never find out though.

When I arrived at his place we exchanged pleasantries and quickly got to work. I haven’t removed the cloth covering the body yet but I can see blood spreading around what I assume is the head.

Headshot then. Damn impressive on my friend’s part. But I will not tell him that, instead I need to beat some sense into his head. We buried a body last week, ten feet from where we are standing. The grave is closer to the tree and he joked about how the tree will get more minerals now. Asshole. I am trying to frame an argument to persuade him to be more cautious in his hobby but so far I have got nothing. So I just dig, both our shovels hitting the ground and prying the soil loose. Crunch, crunch. The sound of the shovels in sync. After another ten minutes we are done.

I stand up straight, my left hand holding the shovel while my right wipes the water from my forehead. I look over at Adam, he was looking at the body and I could see a smile on his face Then he looks over at me and I can see his eyes glittering. If anyone would look at him no one will be able to guess that he killed two people in two weeks. He was small, slightly round and stood with his legs pressed together. His milk white skin was beading with water but he didn’t mind. I have to try something.

“Headshot?” I ask.

“Hell yeah!” He can’t keep his excitement out of his voice. “Oh you should have seen me buddy, I was so good. I hid behind a …”

“You idiot! What if someone had seen you? What about witnesses?” My anger is going to pour out like a fountain now.

“No witnesses, and I learned how to find a good spot. You must know it by now too.” He stops and waits, but I don’t know what he is talking about.

“The new PlayZ! This time we kill zombies and humans. They can’t keep putting us against zombies all the time can they? In the series, there is zombies outside the city which is barricaded. We have to go outside in the day to kill zombies and in the night eliminate the opponents. However if we mess up and get caught game over!”

He says expecting a praise. I don’t give him one. I guess he is right. But that doesn’t change anything, and I just need to get it out of my mouth.

“Allison Martin, George Washington, Philip Mathews. Do you remember those names? They were all over the news recently, for the exact same thing. They killed and they were caught! The characters in the games and real life are different. People and cops think buddy. You can’t keep killing people in the same manner as you kill them in the game! They will catch you!”

I turn towards the body, ready to throw it in the grave. I hear him move a little, the sound of leaves rustling underneath his feet alert me. But not nearly as early enough.

“Not if there are no witnesses.”

I hear the click of the gun…….

 


 

NOTE: All characters are fictitious and any character name mentioned is purely coincidental. In response to Daily Prompt’s ‘Companion‘ and Clever Fiction’s ‘Choose your scenario: If your buddy asks your help to bury a body

Other responses:

 

Literary Lion: Pool


Fiction: Literary Lion: Pool. My response to Laura’s prompt: this time she challenged us to write a story in 100 words or less on her prompt pool.


pool-literary lion-mayur

 

 

First Feet, thighs and then chest. Finally, I was in the pool walking towards that sparkling beauty. The sunlight shimmered off the water surface. I prodded my way towards her; ignoring the increasing pool depth. When I slipped she, in all her breathless beauty, laughed. I fought my way against the water to breach surface and inhaled sweet air infused with her aroma.

She was no longer beautiful or desirable. She was the devil in red. But that didn’t stop my feet from moving towards her. I was spellbound. When I slipped again, I grabbed her leg too.


Thank You Laura. Check out other people’s responses:

https://mandibelle16.wordpress.com/2016/01/29/literary-lion-the-cheater/

pool

Class Field Trip

Literary Lion: Pool

https://tuckedintoacorner.wordpress.com/2016/01/29/literary-lion-pool-100/

 

Literary Lion 6 word challenge: Star


Laura’s Literary Lion prompts are back and this time she gave the hardest challenge of them all: A 6 word story challenge. Her prompt is Star. Here is my take on the word.

They are brightest

As they Fall.

There you go Laura. Let’s see what other Literary Lion Contestants have written:

https://villpowerstory.wordpress.com/2016/01/19/literary-lion-six-word-story/

I Wish I May, I Wish I Might…(Literary Lion: Star)

https://newshoundnovelist.wordpress.com/2016/01/15/rising-star-literary-lion-week-one/

Black Hole? : Literary Lion

https://livehomeandaway.wordpress.com/2016/01/15/star/

https://vnktchari.wordpress.com/2016/01/15/literary-lion-six-word-story-starman/

https://cherrytato.wordpress.com/2016/01/15/starlight/

https://any1mark66.wordpress.com/2016/01/15/six-word-story-star/

https://mandibelle16.wordpress.com/2016/01/15/literary-lion-star-six-word-story/

six 

Literary Lion: Star

http://shawnwingsit.com/a-story-in-six-words-per-ms-literary-lion/

 

 

 

Jallikattu: Other Side of the Festival


I see the beast in you.

 

You tell that this is a festival, a celebration but it is actually a sport. I see the gleam in your eyes, I see that heavy breathing. I can see the excitement in your eyes; I know that look.

 

It is the look of an Animal. An animal like me; like my wife or any of my kin. But we are animals. You evolved past animalism.

 

Yet here we are, you present with your crowd. Braced and armed with sticks, clothes and ropes. You do this because you want to tame me; you who surprisingly a month ago was crying and advocating Beef Ban. You saved my wife and here you send me to fight for my life.

 

I can feel the lashes on my back, courtesy of my handler. I can feel the nails with which you are poking me with now, you are trying to make me feel afraid. Afraid and angry and desperate. Because only then You will be able to have fun in this.

 

I am wild animal. You push me towards the edge, towards death and I will attack. I will ram into you, charge at you with my horns aimed at your chest and try to win my way into freedom. You encircle me, threaten my life and you will get a desperation.

 

But alas, I know I cannot win this one. Because if one of you dies by my feet stomping or being penetrated by my horns; I will die. If I am lucky then I will be mercifully executed. If not then the death which awaits me….I have heard my brothers die like that.

 

I do not get you. You cry against cruelties. You protest against blind religious practices. Then you commit the same cruelties, you follow the same blind faith.

 

It is my nature to protect myself when threatened. I do not dress up in clothes and act intellectual only to be hurtful and mindless of the Dumb. We live in solitude. We do not kill each other for fun, we do not play sports and try to tame LIVES just for sport. We mind our business.

 

You do that. You live two lives; and for your tastes we are tortured, maimed and killed. And once we were prayed; once we stood next to Gods.

 


 

PETA India has long campaigned against the use of bulls in performances. In 2014, the Supreme Court passed a judgement in favour of PETA India and the Animal Welfare Board of India confirming a ban on jallikattu, bullfights and bull races. Despite this, the government is now permitting cruel events like jallikattu and bull races again. (7th Jan 2016)

Video footage from Jallikattu events shows that terrified bulls are deliberately disoriented, chased, kicked, punched, jumped on, dragged to the ground and stabbed, and people even twist and bite their tails to agitate them. Numerous people, including spectators, have died or been seriously injured at jallikattu events by bulls who were intentionally frightened as part of the “game”. During races, bulls are often hit with nail-studded sticks and pushed beyond the point of exhaustion. In bullfights, a round ends when one of the bulls either is killed or manages to flee.


 

We were enraged when we read about Yulin Festival in China. It still happened. But this is India, our home. We need to stop this; we should. Animals are living beings. You can help. Click here.

PS: I tried to write a piece which would induce an emotional reaction; I may have failed miserably. I do not mean to hurt religious sentiments but I am strongly against hurting of animals

UPDATE: Supreme Court stayed the festival and Jallikattu will not be played this year

image credits: pfapune

Literary Lion: They Never Did Fall


A 400 word response to Laura’s prompt.

Literary Lion: Fall

Harry waited at the party for his wife, she was running late today. She always runs late these days. He doesn’t mind, in fact he is rather proud of the fact that she is so hard-working.

Georgia is someone he has always admired and more he got to know her the more he fell for her. No, he stopped himself from using that word. He didn’t FALL for her, he instead got elevated. Yes elevated was the proper word here, nothing other than that.

A Girl who deserved better than what she was getting at the time he met her, the fact that she wasn’t scared of chasing what she wanted. She never complained about being in a misogynistic society and neither did she blamed it on her sex for being down the corporate ladder. She knew what she wanted and she chased it.

In his life he never expected a girl to ever settle down, girlfriends came and broke him and left. She had a worse streak with her boyfriends. A year into their relationship she confided the trauma one of her ex boyfriend had inflicted on her. Enraged, Harry was ready to beat the man to a pulp, Georgia with a shy smile on her face said “You can’t, that man is already in prison for what he did.”

It was that point he knew he has to marry her, he has found his partner, he knew Georgia also had the same plans. He loved her and all the baggage that came along with her. She loved him and his baggage. They settled their disputes easily, they never got bored with each and both of them were ready to go head over heels for other. 

She was better professionally, he was better personally. He is not ashamed of making dinner for her, for pouring her a glass of wine to relax her. She spurned his imagination to an extent that he is already published an acclaimed trilogy. She is his muse, he is her support.

Ingenious couples ask them what’s their secret? they say figure it out. They lead by example rather than by words. They revel in their friends achievements and support failures. They do their best to keep up with others, they actually keep up with each other’s lives.

If anyone asks when did they figure out they had fallen for each other, they would laugh.

His train of thoughts was interrupted by her arrival, she had come directly from work. Hair a little disorderly, face a little tired but Georgia did her best to smile. That was what he loved, what she knew he loved, the natural attempts.

They hadn’t fallen, their lives had gotten better.

Let’s see what others have written:

  1. https://thecoolbookworm.wordpress.com/2015/09/17/fall-literary-lion/
  2. https://bencnicholson.wordpress.com/2015/09/17/the-fall-a-response-to-laura-feaseys-literary-lion/
  3. https://thecoolbookworm.wordpress.com/2015/09/17/fall-literary-lion/
  4. https://mandibelle16.wordpress.com/2015/09/17/literary-lion-the-fall-of-uriel/
  5. https://tuckedintoacorner.wordpress.com/2015/09/18/fall/
  6. http://ismithwords.com/2015/09/17/literary-lion-tumble/#comment-3361
  7. https://livehomeandaway.wordpress.com/2015/09/20/pride-and-falls/
  8. https://deliriousantidotes.wordpress.com/2015/09/20/fracture/
  9. https://seriesofadjustments.wordpress.com/2015/09/19/the-descent/
  10. https://deliriousantidotes.wordpress.com/2015/09/20/fracture/
  11. https://livehomeandaway.wordpress.com/2015/09/20/pride-and-falls/
  12. http://viewsfromtheridge.com/2015/09/25/fall/
  13. https://thisismyironlung.wordpress.com/2015/09/25/her-fall/
  14. http://dralimanonlife.com/2015/09/26/literary-lion-after-the-fall/
  15. http://grahamisjustmyname.com/2015/09/28/the-fall-literary-lion/
  16. http://finallyawriter.com/2015/09/27/falling-literary-lion-prompt/

Flowers In Your Memory


Literary Lion: Flower

Dear Jyoti,

Here is the gajra I promised. Its Thursday and you always loved wearing it in your hair every Thursday.

I vowed to keep gajra in front of your photograph, today I keep this letter too.

You see, I have been diagnosed with cancer. We must have a strong love because I too have stomach cancer, terminal and doctors gave me three months to live. The doctor was ready with tissues and sympathetic look, awaiting the tears. But you should have seen his face when I cracked up, I was so relieved I started laughing!

Samir and Girija doesn’t understand my happiness. They want me to undergo chemotherapy and all the other procedures. I don’t want to do that, I saw what those procedures did to you. I saw my beautiful wife become this thin fragile carcass and I know you hated it. I know you wanted an end three years ago but you fought because I was fighting with you.

For that I am sorry, I should have paid heed to you. I blame myself for your horribly painful death. I was selfish. I still am selfish, I want an end too because there’s no joy in this world without you.

Parvati promised me she will take care of Samir, she understands why I am happy. Girija has a new boyfriend did I tell you? Really nice guy. He will keep her company, he will take care of her.

Our varis Shruti is beautiful. One year old and so fragile. She looks just like Samir, she has all of his childhood habits. She spits milk when fed, she keeps using my head as a tabla and occasionally while asleep she giggles. Remember Samir used to do that? We were so scared that we took him to three doctors.

Samir doesn’t find it funny but Parvati does. She made a video of it and its there on something called YouTube. Really popular too.

I digress. Today I kissed Shruti goodbye, made tea for all the members and now they think I am going for my walk. Do you think they will forgive me? I hope they do.

And you my love, I am coming. Because without you I don’t have any heart in life.

Love,
Hari

 

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

https://cleveroldowl.wordpress.com/2015/08/30/flowering/

https://vnktchari.wordpress.com/2015/08/27/literary-lion-word-prompt-flower-a-wonderful-rose-plant/

https://deliriousantidotes.wordpress.com/2015/08/27/flower/

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

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

Time


Liberty Lion: Time

‘Circles? ’ I asked.

Grandpa lay gasping for breath. He is a stubborn old man; he wouldn’t admit he is too frail for a hike. We left our house about two hours ago to reach the summit of the hill. He would always verbosely describe his childhood achievements and all of the stories would have him and the hill in common. So today I challenged him to climb the hill again. Grandma was furious at me to voice even such a dare, but grandpa did it. And whenever he was winded, he would tell the best tales. He began.

‘You would want me to spin a story about my childhood or some other person’s life changing story? ’

I nodded. Old but still sharp my grandpa, I thought proudly.

‘Truth is this Gunther: all the tales are similar.’ he looked around the hill again, at the tree who’s shade we sat on and the valley where our house and farms lay, at the lake where we would go swim and fish.

‘My grandfather also brought me to hikes. He loved them. Then we stayed in a different place but when I bought this house I had one requirement: a nearby hill’. He nodded and took a deep breath as if he tried to soak in the nature. I wasn’t following his harangue but I was rapt. My grandpa told tales that brought the entire village to a standstill, there’s something about his words that bonds you to them, to him.

‘Just like my grandpa I am doing the same with you. And if there’s anything I can tell about life is that it is a circle. ’

‘Circle of Life? ’ I asked. He seemed pleased with my answer and smiled. He raised his hand and ruffles my hair. I hated whenever someone else did it but I liked it when he did that. ‘So life repeats itself? ’ I asked again dubious of my own comprehension. He thought about it for a while ‘Most of the times.’ he knew I didn’t understand completely so he let loose a sigh and started again.

‘Read history son, it is recurring. Some tyrant rises, some heroes die, so on and so forth. Take people son, they always make the same mistake again. Life is cruel because it does the same trick on you all the time and you fall for it. ’ Now I understood his point. I was only 9 year old then but the implications of the same wouldn’t dawn on me until I was 25 and broke. But I had one more question for him. ‘And time grandpa? ’ He smiled again, I remember a hint of sadness was there ‘Of course time is a round too. Why do you think clocks are circular?’

By Mayur Remember

 

Check Out Other’s Responses:

https://bencnicholson.wordpress.com/2015/07/22/literary-lion-time/

https://mandibelle16.wordpress.com/2015/07/23/literary-lion-this-thing-called-time/

https://deliriousantidotes.wordpress.com/2015/07/23/hourglass/

Time to Leave

Hopeful 

Alice Accepts Her Fate

https://thisismyironlung.wordpress.com/2015/07/24/tainted/

https://livingonchi.wordpress.com/2015/07/24/literary-lion-time/

https://rileyreedauthor.wordpress.com/2015/07/25/literary-lion-time-time-will-heal/

Literary Lion – A Homonym Too Far

http://mwlangridge-awritersjourney.com/2015/07/26/the-clock-on-her-wall/

https://livehomeandaway.wordpress.com/2015/07/26/seeds-of-time/

Time

https://vnktchari.wordpress.com/2015/07/28/literary-lion-time-my-reflections-on-time/

In Time…Who’s going to remember?

https://sonyca.wordpress.com/2015/07/28/time/

King, fiction

Literary Lion: King


(Liberty Lion: King. Weekly Prompt by Laura Feasey.)

 

‘Who is this King of Browning street? ’ Hector exploded into the nearest constable.

Hector had recently been very angry. A lot of times. His anger issues stemmed from his childhood, from his mother abandoning him but somewhere in life he got it under control. For his job required him to be cold and distant and logical, angry cops make mistakes. Angry cops lose cases because of their recklessness. Angry cops make enemies.

So he got into the program, worked his issues and became a role model. Till this case.

What started out as a normal homicide in an alley had turned into a serial killing. If that news was bad enough,  the victims were all serial molesters. Hecklers and troublemakers for woman. And someone was killing them.

The second onwards all the victims had a card on their hands: A King. Of any category, they always had King cards. So the media named the killer The King of Browning Street.

The constable was embarrassed by the public humiliation delivered to him. This was the tenth crime scene and the King card was now nailed to the victim’s head. And with the media and the political pressure mounting,  Hector had began to crack. The crime scene was the same: A single gsw to the chest,  post mortem positioning of the body so that the hands covered their genitals and their jaws opened. No evidence and no witnesses.

Anyways no one would probably come forward,  everyone wanted the troublemakers out of their streets. And the thugs were too egotistical to let cops handle this for them.

Hector had an interview this afternoon, but because of the new homicide he rescheduled it. He tried to remember who the reporter was but he kept forgetting her name.

A constable let a female in the yellow tape and immediately he regretted it. Hector went raging at him to not let pedestrians in and how he would have the constable suspended for this when the female showed her press ID.

‘Hello Mr Hector. Since you were too busy I thought I’ll get my interview on the road. I can assure you I will be of no hindrance and I won’t utter a word till you are done with investigating the scene.’ She had lovely eyes. And a face that reminded him of his high school girlfriend. What was her name? Karen yes Karen.

His anger suddenly vanished he nodded but asked her that no photographs or recordings be done else he would land him in trouble.

After a while he asked her name though he never heard her last name,  else he would have shown a different reaction then.

‘Karen. Karen King. ’

#30 Breath Fire (part 10)


Continued, check part 9

Fiction:

When Forster was born, realm was prospering. The combined efforts of humans and draconian strength had made economy boom.

Trade routes were established with Maximus existing captured regions. The burned lands were largely fertile and used for agriculture.

Reaves turned out to be a great King. The hostilities between humans and dragons still exist but is subdued.

His father Garge and mother Tamara were famous and examples of perfect Harmony between humans and dragons.

Dragons grew to be stronger than before. Reaves grew proud to have brought the dragons back to their esteemed glory.

And as this glory spread, people from all over the world looked to have an army of dragons at their disposal.

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#29 Breath Fire (Part 9)


Continued, check part 8

Fiction:

Every other dragon saw that. The King momentary burst of anger had betrayed him. Reaves called Garge back.

‘You got him to declare his position to us. Now you need to make him expose himself to his men.’ Deacon provided.

Wise man had not asked about just disclosed terms of this bout. Reaves looked at Garge and nodded. They knew their future and their race depended on Garge. Just like his father, Reaves knew the best person to have Icebreaker was Garge. Now is the time to use it best.

Garge unscathed his sword. In front of him, King did the same. The humans were making a circle and one man read out rules of this engagement.

‘Rules? Do we need them? Its simple: I just have to kill you.’ Garge poked. ‘And I believe I still don’t know your name’

‘My name is Maximus. And you think this is my first championship? I have killed bigger and better men with less efforts than taking a piss. You will also be easy.’

This time loudly Garge said ‘You could kill other humans. But I’m a dragon. I could kill bigger and stronger men with ease because I’m faster and stronger.’

Maximus realised the strategy now. Garge wanted to expose him. After he did that the army would loose its mantle and it would easy to watch the cards topple.

Both warriors looked at each other for two seconds. This is it. Their swords in their hands and their supporters at their backs. Garge smiled. Maximus growled. And they attacked.

One of them was the best of their land, other had years of experience. And both were inhumanly fast.

In two seconds, almost thirty clashes were heard. Their swords were no longer visible, their arms showing bulging tendons and muscles. And they not walked but floated on the sand. Both of them used their toes to move quickly and effortlessly. One misstep and their heads would be rolling and a war would end.

Reaves knew Garge was fast. Just how fast he knows now. And Maximus, if it wasn’t for him trying to kill everyone he would be marvelous indeed. At least thirty years older than Garge he still was on the offense, even making Garge sweat.

This would be close!

They both retracted after three minutes. Their hands were chaffed and breaths louder than wind. Both looked in ecstasy. Wesley shouted encouragement. This was like a dream come true for him. A clash of swords on which the entire future resided on.

‘You are way better than I anticipated.’Maximus admitted.

‘You are not bad for an old man.’ Garge retorted ‘It is a shame that your daughter can see you know. She said you are so slow that you couldn’t even catch as she escaped when she walked past you!’

Maximus growled louder this time. His human strength had depleted and now he was tapping on draconian strength. But Garge had practiced all his life, his endurance was still not crossed.

Garge thrust the sword in the sand and started to remove his armor. And when all he wore was his trousers he picked up his sword again. Armor would slow him down. And this would be long fight.

Maximus didn’t do the same. All he saw was an opening. Garge was bare chested and exposed in front. Just a few cuts would slow him down.

And Garge would let him have a few cuts.

When they both moved again, Garge was way faster. He got inside Maximus’s guard and delivered some big cuts and retreated quickly. The armor protected him but a long gash was bleeding from the left.

Maximus looked angry now, angry enough to start tearing him limb from limb. Just a bit more and then he would have to turn. Garge had to make sure he doesn’t turn before Maximus.

They engaged again. This time they locked swords and Maximus’ breath full blasted on Garge face. He was smiling ‘You intend to make me turn so my army goes against me. That won’t happen cause you don’t know what I can do.’ And with a new fire he added ‘And my hatred for my kin!’

As sudden as a snake bit, Garge sword lodged inside his opponent’s neck. Maximus looked happy.

The dead body dropped to the ground. Wind seemed to be howling.

And then the enemy retreated. And from the armies horns blared. Horns for march and war.

‘He made sure that if he doesn’t win the armies still attack. And with half of their strengths they could still kill all of us.’ Wesley said. He looked ready for a turn.

Deacon meanwhile was telling a messenger to turn and bring reinforcements. Reaves and Garge met eyes, they knew the army was already reeling and almost broken. If they witness the same massacre of the sea then they will break. And war would be over.

The army was coming on horse backs, cavalry quickly closing the gap. But dragons were faster and in a minute the entire legion arrived of 100 turned dragons. All ready for war.

And they melted the earth. None of the dragons took flight. They just opened fire. Horse, men, metal all burned and then their bones melted. Such concentrated firestorm soon boiled the water and land turned brown. Dragons in tens made sure that no land was solid enough to walk.

And for miles heat scorched all metal to the skins of armies. Blisters were born on army’s skins, their sweats evaporated the second they came out.

Enemy fled, screaming in agony to remove their armor and metal. Scorpions were useless as their arrows were catching flames and burning to ashes.

That heat would keep the land impassable for at least a day. And with broken army the chance of them attacking again wasn’t possible.

The war was over.

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#28 Breath Fire (Part 8)


Continued, check part 7

Fiction:

‘What now Reaves?’

‘You tell me. I have an army sitting on my arose ready to go for my throat. And my hundred warriors are ready to kill your would be wife if they get the chance. This has to be resolved as quickly as possible. Otherwise we are dead.’

This was the real Reaves. Humble and straight. Not a prince or a King.

‘I never thought this…’

‘I know Garge. There is more than one court member who would ask for your head after this. But I have your back. I just need to know whether you are ready for the onslaught or not.’

‘I want the father’s head. That bastard comes to my land to kill my people. I would skin him and burn him. He is a monster. And he wants to kill my… Child too!’

Sudden fury blazed in his eyes. He wanted to turn now and smoke everything around him. But he knew better than that. He got his anger under control and awaited the turn to kill.

‘No one knows what happened at the island. But now if you approach to talk, then the entire army will know. The army would prefer going back to their lives. They want an end to this pointless regime. My father would not allow that.’ Tamara said.

‘Champion!’ Both Reaves and Garge said together.

That meant Garge doing what he does best. Swinging his sword.

Reaves spoke a bit more while Tamara came near to Garge. Eventually they were left alone.

‘Reaves has a temper. And you insulted him in his court by instating your law and..’

‘I know. I forgot my place. I’m a prisoner here. It is a mercy that I’m still alive, for which I should be grateful to your King.’ She stopped and added ‘and to you.’

Garge looked in askance at her. She continued

‘My father had dispatched those wolves. Before you I hated my life. I ran and he sent wolves after me. You gave me a reason to live. After he coerced out of me your existence, I found out I was pregnant. Another reason to live. As soon as we landed I escaped and arrived here.’

‘I had to attack those ships. Otherwise we would be facing a siege now instead of a reeling army. If I had hurt you in those ships then..’ He couldn’t say more.

He knew after they survived he would gladly marry her. Not because it was a law for her, but because he could feel a stirring for her. And he wanted to survive the war.

For one fleeting second he thought of taking her and fleeing the land. No one would know or could follow. But he dismissed it. He had to save his kin.

‘So who is your father’s champion?’

‘He fights himself.’

Next morning a messenger was dispatched with a white flag. To have a champion fight instead of the armies. The enemy agreed on the condition that after dragons lose, all dragons would have to come to their own deaths.

Other than Reaves and Garge no one knew those terms.

A party of twenty arrived midway from enemy. Ten dragons including Reaves and Garge reached midway too.

Garge had spent the night with Tamara. And now he intended to make sure he gets to do it again. Enemy’s champion was not hard to find. He stood 7 feet tall and strong enough to kill men with his bare hands. And the sword he carried was another broadsword on his back, at least four feet in length.

‘We have Tamara and if we are cheated then she won’t make past the hour.’ King Reaves declared. This was the King alright. The same arrogant, conceited king.

‘Huh’ the tall men spoke. ‘If you know my daughter then you know I would not mind her death. By my hands or yours. Its you dragons who I want dead.’

Tamara’s father got down from his horse and came forward. He stood two feet in front of Garge and spoke again ‘You who laid with my daughter, by the hour is done I will taste your blood. Then your entire race would be plunged off.’

He snorted loudly. And there was smoke in his breath. His eyes changed color and his skin briefly changed to purple.

Garge gasped. This cannot be! His opponent, King of human armies ready to kill all dragons was…

A DRAGON!

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#27 Breath Fire(Part 7)


Continued, check part 6

Fiction:

It was a crowd gathered in the great hall. Each and every dragon had assembled to have the humans blood. And the humans smelled of fear. Everyone except Tamara, who should be scared considering she was pregnant.

Oh man, Garge thought. If that child is mine,..

The entire court thought so. And whatever respect he had once possessed was gone. Everyone had come to know why the humans had invaded. Even that small piece of knowledge which was exclusive among his friends spread like fire. Like fire, that’s ironic Garge thought hysterically.

Tamara looked better. She was fraught with life one could say. Lips pink, face flush with rich blood and hair that when opened reached her hips. Beautiful hair.

With an effort he looked away from her and tried to think like he was meant to. The daughter of the King was here, she was their hostage. With her as leverage the incoming war could be put in stalemate.

But, why was she here? Was she here on behalf of her father? Or she had some other ulterior motive.

Eventually, the crowd got bored. They were anxious to know the same answers and when she spoke, the crowd were dumbed into silence.

‘Garge is the father of the child I carry.’

No one could speak, even if they found their voices they would not know what to say. And Garge was in the worst possible position ever. Not only his actions had caused a war, he had also coupled and fathered a half human half dragon.

‘My family’s customs are simple. He will have to marry me and father this indomitable child. It is law’ Tamara continued.

Reaves finally found his voice ‘Don’t preach me law you whore! You who laid your legs bare to the first male you could find, only he was not even your species. I would not be surprised to find you giving birth to a horse son one day!’

Tamara was shocked. Garge quickly got his wits under his control and murmured Reaves to control. Reaves, with a visible effort continued ‘I am sorry for that, it was not how I should talk to a woman. But if we do believed you and understand that the child is Garge’s then I could not gather what would you have us done? You want to coerce him into marriage, it is fair practice but futile as we are almost on the brink of extinction with your father’s armies on the coast ready to slaughter us. So what would you have us do?’

Tamara looked close to tears, and Garge suddenly recalled that night when he laid with her. It had something to do with watching her cry after the wolves have fled, after she was safe in Garge’s arms. She had cried for hours then and every tear she shed was a knife in Garge’s chest.

Apparently the entire hall felt the same way. More than one person looked ready to run to comfort her. Reaves felt the same way. She spoke again trembling ‘He would eventually kill me. And our child. Right after child was born he swore he would take the cord and use it to choke our child. And after the child has stopped breathing he would feed me his entrails and kill me. Those were his words. He doesn’t care for any of his children, neither me nor his elder son, the one who you killed on the island. He would kill us all of could just so he could exterminate all dragons.’

Now everyone was angry. Tamara had to be defended, everyone would agree on that. But what of Garge, that decision was pending. And he didn’t have a lot of hopes. So while they spoke on he quietly escaped the court and went to the terrace.

He loved the night sky. Thousands upon thousands of stars. So many that numbers would not suffice to count them. But doesn’t like them when he turned into dragon. Dragon eyes couldn’t appreciate that beauty. Only human eyes could.

Today the stars looked dimmer. He heard movement behind him and found Reaves with him. And a little behind Tamara. They were alone up on the terrace.

Reaves visage had none of the usual arrogance and looked somber. The guy next to him was his childhood friend, his only friend in a realm of nearly extinct race.

They needed to decide their next move. And about Tamara.

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#26 Breath Fire(Part 6)


Continued, check part 5

Fiction:

Aftermath of the fire match was worse than anticipated. Those soldiers who made into the shore in the first wave were gasping for air, smoke had lodged deep in their lungs. With some minor wounds and burns that were ignored in a desperate attempt to stay alive, they quickly began screaming in pain.

One of the ships carrying many doctors was burned in entirety. So now doctors were severely overburdened. Then came those who were had severe burns and injuries. They were found floating in the ocean, they pain had made them unconscious. Most of them were drifting out of consciousness. And the hospital camp was so full of them, their dreams consisting of fire and smoke. More than one of them woke up and quickly panicked seeing the candle flames. Controlling them was harder as where ever they had skin they had been burnt. One of the soldier was so badly burnt that he was unidentifiable. It was a surprise that he was alive.

Small rowboats were out in the ocean, trying to find more survivers. At least half of the King’s army was in the hospital screaming curses at those fire breathing reptiles.

King Prius had almost lost this war. All because of the stunt of his smaller brother on the island. Meeting the parley was a futile gesture, King knew but his brother along with two archers had went nonetheless. His headless corpse was found later.

But the King hadn’t lost all sense, at least the new General Turin hadn’t. As soon as they landed, trenches were dug in. Scorpions and crossbows were setup. Guard was put up, from those who could keep guard. Turin himself was a mess. His face was burned and though in agony he continued giving orders and leading the army.

Turin’s ships was one of the last one to be attacked. By that colossal black dragon, who flees because it suffered wounds in that ship. Someone named Davis had attacked. Davis now lay on a bed, his face marred up that he had difficulty eating or breathing. He wouldn’t last.

But the dragons had suffered too. Two carcasses were drifting in the ocean. A white dragon, and dark blue. Both had three or more shards of wood lodged in their bodies.

The dragons would pay soon King Prius knew.

Back in the dragon’s land, two men’s passing was mourned. Their widows were furious, ready to be the in the first wave of offense. Their children though never flew before were also greedy to have some human blood.

And Garge was recovering. Though his scales were impenetrable, if attacked then the wound surfaced after he turned back to human form. Along with the raw agony.
That’s why he fled. If his wounds surpassed normal human form he would die. Dragons aren’t invincible. And this was the main reason of death.

He was woke by noise of talking. He looked up to find all the powerful in his room. Reaves and Wesley and Deacon.

‘What’s the enemies losses?’ He managed to croak.

Reaves looked at him sharply, his eyes like knives. Wesley spoke ‘The attack was hugely successful. Their dead are burned as we speak. The entire coast is full of burning pyres. As if your charge left any skin left to burn.’ He grinned, bastard was enjoying this.

But Garge detected fear underneath. He looked at Deacon and knew directly.

The enemy was wounded. But it was in no way enough to cripple them, not enough to make them turn around. And he was one who ordered the two brave soldiers to their grave.

He began thinking of the girl who he rescued in the jungle so long ago. Who thanked his help by spending the weekend with him. If only he knew that would the cause of this, he would never have helped her.

Who was he kidding? He knew he would helped her nonetheless. What was her name? Ah, Tamara.

He looked back his childhood friend Reaves and realised that he longed to ask about that instance. That how his rescue would cause their imminent annihilation.

A soldier walked in. Garge recognized the soldier. He was the white dragon, Quentin’s younger brother. He looked ragged but angry.

‘Majesty?’ He asked ‘There are some humans caught trying to sneak in. Their leader pleaded me to find you. She said her name was Tamara.’

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#25 Breath Fire (part 5)


Continued, check part 4:

Fiction:

Sargent Davis hated sea voyage. He always got seasick. Only good thing he could see was there was the land right in front of him. A few minutes more and they will be ashore.

And then Davis could pacify his revolting guts. Who cares what they are hunting? Kings make wars then make soldiers like him march. This will be always the rule.

Now they are facing dragons. Tomorrow they may face Krakens or something worse right out of hell. The trick was to keep head low, be aware and listen to instincts. His instincts always protected him.

And now he sensed something was about go real bad. Really really bad.

Davis looked at the captain of the ship, Turin. Turin never liked him, but maybe he will listen to warning. The warship leading was almost ashore, ships soldiers already armored and ready to brawl.

But there was no resistance observed there on the shore. No dragons. No men.

Excellent. But it looked like a trap. And Turin’s face betrayed the same.
Something made a huge splashing sound behind them. And then a howl rang out, loud enough to blow eardrums. A strong hot wind blew, a sound of a gush right behind their shows.

Davis turned and what he saw petrified him. No one had predicted this. A huge black dragon was coming out of the water, water was flowing down from his body like waterfall. He was larger than any other dragon Davis ever saw. And then the dripping dragon breathed fire. He twisted his head from one side to the next, a whole 180 degrees all the while he spat fire.

Sails and hulls caught fire, the heat was enough to cause agonizing burns to those in proximity of fire. In less than a second, more than 7 ships were on fire. And then dragon went under water again.

Davis quickly ducked and tried to go under the ship as soon as he saw the dragon. That helped somewhat. When dragon was back underwater, he glanced around. So many of the ship’s crew which were on broadside were burnt to crisp. None were moving. The captain Turin was moving and Davis saw that Turin’s face was burnt. The moans and cries of the writhing crew was not audible as commotions had started from other ships too. More dragons were coming out of water to burn ships. And because they were quickly inside water no scorpion could be aimed at them.

The rowing crew were still inside, aware of the commotion and probable fighting but rowing forward nonetheless. That was their job. To row.

Davis could not feel any pain, but that might be because he was in adrenaline rush. The pain will come later. Dragons were coming up more quickly than anticipated, burning more and more ships down. He saw a ship to his right being burned to a crisp. The rowers were being burnt inside, like in a furnace. He could see them trying to escape the ship from orifices that held the rows, their bodies being burned while they tried to escape.

This was bad. Almost every ship was burning, many have started to sink. And the saltwater of the ocean will cause agony of another dimensions to the crew.

The land! Just a couple of minutes away. The black dragon appeared again, this time in front of the ship. And instead of spitting fire he flew into the ship. With his tails, he quickly broke the scorpion into pieces. And then he made inferno.

He thrust his head inside the ship, breaking the wooden floor. And he opened fire. Even with so many screams all around them in the different ships, the screams coming from within were distinctive and clear. Hell! What happened on that island?!

Before Davis knew what was happening, he was up his sword in his hand and running towards the dragon. His scream was hoarse with smoke but quickly got others’ attention. Those who could, they lifted their arms and joined him.

He sprang into the creature’s back, scales slippy with water and thrust his sword deep. Or tried to. The scales were so tough the the sword bent. And others also had similar results. But the dragon howled and with a swift flick of his tail catapulted Davis into the sky.

Davis landed somewhere in the rocky part of the shore, face bloody and mangled.

But he was found alive after the inferno was over.

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#24 Breath Fire (Part 4)


Continued, see previous post part 3

Fiction:

Foreigner knew blood will be drawn. But the damn archers behind him were amateurs, they should nor stand behind me. They should move and flank the opponents. From where they stand, their aim was obstructed by foreigner himself.

Garge gave the order to Wesley. He could only hope the archers weren’t smart enough to discover their faulty positions. And before they do, the blood from foreigner would be dry.

Foreigner knew who was the real threat here. The one with the broadsword on his back. He was motionless, staring intently to the three foes. The broadsword couldn’t be swung so fast. The short swords would be the absolute victors here. But by the time they disengaged, if they could survive the armada would be picking up full speed. The island meet was a ruse, captains had orders to wait for ten minutes and then row in full speed.

So he gave an opening.

Garge saw foreigner glancing at the archers. And behind the archers he saw the ships gently rowing. This was a distraction! Now!

He moved like a snake, left hand flashing and throwing a knife at the first archer. No one expects him to carry concealed throwing knives. The knife hit perfectly in the neck of the archer, the other flinching from the attack. His right hand shot up and Icebreaker was out of the scabbard in an eye blink and cutting the air towards the foreigner’s head.

Foreigner moved at the last second, rolling towards the right to avoid the sword. Behind Garge, Wesley threw his throwing axe towards the second archer.

Archer dodged but by the time he recovered, Wesley and Reaves was on him. He didn’t have a chance and was down in a second.

Foreigner saw he was outnumbered. And the one with broadsword was faster than lightening. He knew he would be dead soon.

‘How about that champion?’

Garge smiled and attacked. His broadsword was blocked twice before his feigned swing to the neck came down at the stomach. Icebreaker sliced through skin like butter.

All three were breathing fiercely. The island meet was turned up against them. Invaders weren’t scared and their intent was more dire than previously thought. And to think they are the last settlement of dragons…

That later. Garge picked up command easily and called them to turn. But the problem with the close ship was the scorpion. None of them could be allowed to be injured or worse.

‘We fly close low. And fast’

Garge ran towards the homeland, others close by, following on his heels. He muttered a small spell, and he began transforming.

Turning to dragon the first time was the worst. The skin starts boiling, and with each centimeter of soft skin changing into scales, the pain experienced is almost unbearable. And underneath their bones elongate and wings spring from the back.

After turning so many times, the one second pain was almost bearable. Almost. Three howled in the pains and turned. The running helped pick up speed and they cruised across the ocean.

Garge, huge and black. Reaves on his left, brown. And Wesley on the right, green. They could see their own reflections in the water. No matter how many times they saw that, seeing it again was breathtaking.

As they reached homeland the reverted back to human forms to talk. Garge immediately barked orders at a messenger to assemble ten strong and swift fliers.

‘Mind telling me why he named you?!’ Reaves shouted from behind him.

‘I did meet and rescue a girl’ Garge began ‘but never saw this coming. Would you have seen this outcome?’

‘How stupid are you?’ Wesley began, clearly happy with the mistake, ‘you know how those humans are. Always looking for new things to tame and kill. Now they are here for us.’

Deacon intervened before things got out of hand ‘Can we burn them over the sea?’

When no answer came forth he understood. But quickly realised Garge’s orders were to the very contrary.

‘What are you thinking of doing Garge?’

‘I am going to give you a window here. They have picked up speed. They will be here before the hour’s out. I am going to halt their progress for a while, trying to make sure I take as many of them I can.’

The bastards had protected themselves against the sky. But they forgot the waters.

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#23 Breath Fire (Part 3)


Continuation, check previous post, part 2

Fiction:

Hundreds. It seemed as if the next incoming wave was full of ships. They must been tens of thousands on board.

‘I told you a war was coming. Whoever they are, they must have heard the same tales and came here to tame dragons, to tame us.’ Wesley said. He was the only one who was smiling. Who was happy.

Garge, Reaves and all the soldiers were grim. This was not going to be a war. This will be a massacre, their massacre.

‘Deacon, start readying troops. Accumulate stores and get ready for a siege. We could not hold the shore, but if we let them land we are doomed. What should be done here?’ Reaves mused out loud.

Rookie mistake, Garge knew, to muse out loud in front of soldiers. But he couldn’t take his eyes off the scene.  The blue horizon marred by brown tiny ships.

This is bad. Deacon estimated that the ships will be here by evening.

‘They want dragons don’t they? Let’s make them meet’ Wesley said ‘at sea they are defenseless, once we start burning none will survive. No harm to us.’

‘It is genocide. Destruction of such a scale would bring more people here. After all, so many ships can’t just disappear at sea’ Reaves muttered.

Deacon offered ‘You remember the island of San Viet?’

Of course, San Viet was visible in front of them. So close that it would need five minutes of flight to reach.

Garge got it. So did Reaves.

Five minutes later, three dragons rose from the coast. All the soldiers from the ships can see tiny specks in the sky, looking like birds but weren’t birds. The on board soldiers began shouting and pointing at the enemies in the skies and saw three descend into an island a little ahead of the coastline.

Sometime later, the Armada stopped and only one ship, seemingly the biggest of them proceeded towards the island. A small row boat, having three passengers and a rower reached the shore.

They were huge. Each of them was six feet tall at least, wearing nothing but armor and weapons. The one on the forefront was clearly their leader, as it was he who spoke first ‘In a small island like this, where would the dragons hide?’

‘They are capable of hiding themselves’ Reaves answered.

‘They? Or you?’

Shock was registered at Reaves face which pleased the foreigner. He continued

‘We know of you dragons, we have fought with you a long time ago. But then we were weak and outnumbered. Now, we are enough to have your species decimated three times over. We are sailing from shore to shore, killing your kind for your past deeds. And if we know true, you are the remnants of the fiercest creatures. And after you, men like us will rule.’

Reaves couldn’t speak for a while. Wesley’s knuckles were cracking, and smoke puffed out if his nostrils.

‘And there is your mighty army? You know if wood catches fire it would be really impossible to save the ship?’ Garge cut in.

The foreigner turned his eyes on him. He had icy blue eyes that sends shivers down your spine.

‘Have you wondered by now how we came to know of your existence? I mean this is a far land and your kind here is peaceful. So how?’ Foreigner digressed.

‘One of my daughters failed to reach home by sunset one evening. She didn’t come home the next night too. But when she did, she said that she was chased by wolves. She couldn’t fend for herself because they were too many. She said a fire breathing bird saved her. A dragon by the name Garge.’

If this was supposed to unsettle Garge, foreigner was disappointed. Garge, didn’t so much as twinge when he spoke ‘We will burn your armies before they land on our shore.’

‘And even before you can come close to breath fire among us, you will be shot down from the skies. Look at our ships,they are armored and defensive against things in the skies.’ As he said that he pointed towards his ship, and even though it was far, it wasn’t difficult to spot the giant scorpion on the ship.

No one could say anything. They wanted war, but this was going to be their end. They knew it in their bones, because the enemy knew them, knew how to kill them.

‘So you want to waste so much life just so you can kill us. I have heard of a practice to use champions..’ Reaves began pathetically but foreigner cut him off ‘You think I’ll willingly send one champion against a dragon? And what makes you think I would let them happen when I have gotten you cornered so easily.’

He waited to see the reactions in each of his opponents and smiled when he saw fear. He knew half the war is over.

He got up and removed his short swords, one in each hand. Behind him, both the soldiers had their arrows notched. The situation changed so suddenly and Garge knew there was only one way out of this. To cut his opponents down.

Wesley looked in ecstasy. Reaves looked as if he would shit himself.

‘Wesley, I know you want to but make sure that Reaves got out of here alive. You will get your blood sooner than you think.’

Out of the corner of his eyes, Wesley nodded.

War, here we come.

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#22 Breath Fire (Part 2)


(Check out previous post, part 1)
Continuation, fiction:

King Reaves loved this hall. It smelled like fire and smoke, like ash. And its his home. But his father lost this. How could he!

He never forgave his father. For being a loser. Dragons could not lose. We are invincible, even our names would ingrain fear in enemies’ bones.

And when we turn and soar up in the skies….

‘You summoned me, Majesty’ Garge said as he came into the hall. Garge was every bit as what a dragon should be. Huge, at least 6 feet tall, strong and muscular. Long black hair, always wearing his accustomed white coat with black trousers. Carrying a named broadsword at his back.

The Last King’s Broadsword, Icebreaker. Given to Garge as an honor for being far better at swordsmanship than any other in the realm. Or whatever is left of the realm.

‘Did you know my Father, the senile lizard made his last stand here twenty years ago?’ Reaves began ‘He turned here, and breathed fire at each and every soldier who came up that door. It is said that he nearly burned the King himself. The enemies waited till he tired and then they attacked all at once from all directions possible and killed him. Well most of them were burned their armor melted and stuck to their skins, only a handful survived. Not without burns. That was the bravest thing my Father did.’

Reaves knew Garge admired his Father. But he liked teasing nonetheless. Garge said nothing in reply, just stared like he always did.

It was said that he always stood that way, broadsword at his back in practice arena. Never moved and made his opponents sweat. By the time any movement happened, the opponent’s hands were so sweaty that they had difficulty holding the sword. And also because Garge was lightening fast.

‘Wesley says scouts spotted some  ships across the sea. He is sure that the enemy, whoever they are, are coming.’ Reaves said.

‘Your permission, Majesty?’ Garge began, sounding all humble. Reaves nodded waiting to hear his best friends honest words. Words he was sure will be contrary to his own.

‘Wesley would pick a fight with his dead mother because he likes the adrenaline rush. And because he would be hard for a night’s whoring then. You seriously going to have’ his word on imminent battle?’

They both stated at each other for a second the burst out laughing. None of them had believed Wesley’s word. Yet they had to talk about this.

‘The two captives?’

‘They swear they are alone. Here to catch a dragon. Guess they are caught off guard’

They eventually went to the get their lunch. All the high members of the realm joined them on the table. There was Wesley, he was another hunter like Garge, and was always desperate for a fight. He was a captain in a small platoon. Deacon, an elderly general, one who rescued Reaves and Garge twenty years ago leads the armies, maintains peace and handles all judicial functions. Vagh handles the exchequer of the people, levies taxes. Most of them are Reaves childhood friends.

Pearl joined them, she was the beauty of the realm and Reaves betrothal. Every man who could like Reaves, was jealous because he would marry Pearl.

As ate, hands filthy with grease and half drunk on rum a soldier rushed into the room and urgently spoke to Deacon’s ears.

‘Where are your manners soldier?! You are here in front of your King and you dare ignore asking his permission’ Wesley roared.

Reaves and Garge share a tiny smile, knowing full well this was what Wesley does best. But Deacon had lost all the color from his face. Everyone soon noticed that and urged him to speak.

‘Majesty, on the sea.’ He took a deep breath and continued ‘There’s ships inbound. Apparently hundreds of them.’

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#21 Breath Fire (Part 1)


(Since I missed a couple of days in my routine, and I have 10 posts left, I’ll make a long fictional fantasy story. This can be seen as a continuation of a previously written fiction:
Let’s Catch A Dragon.)

Fiction:

Garge hated this hall. It was too big. Too stark a reminder of the dark days of the past. Of the days when they walked as their True Form.

As Dragons.

They were proud. Egotistical. They thought of themselves as invincible. And when they lost, they were too few to even hold hostage. So they were left where they were. Discarded after conquer. Some women they took as hostages and slaves. After all, men liked to brag about their conquests. Garge’s sister was one those who taken. He was five at that time.

Now, twenty years later, fire lands were at peace. Subdued. But like always, pride returns. And so they returned to their own lands. To this colossal palace. Because of their King. Because of the son of the King who lost twenty years ago.

Because of the two lone warriors who had traveled far from their lands to capture dragons. They swore no one ordered them. They swore they were alone, no armies were marching behind them to battle. But their King saw this as an act of war.

So, after twenty years the Dragons were preparing for war.

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#20 Leaping


(I couldn’t write for the last two days and I cover this up now)

Fiction:

Ever heard the wind? Its a constant wheezing sound. You never realize wind can sound like this.

Standing near the edge, waiting for his turn to bungee jump, the wind was all she could hear. Her friends all around her were talking and trying to dissipate their anxiety and fear.

She didn’t care. She was scared. It was her first jump and though she wasn’t acrophobic but she was scared. And this jump was one of the highlights of the entire vacation to this adventure road trip.

The person before her jumped. She saw him going down, faster than a bullet it seemed. She could hear his scream full of fear and adrenaline and excitement. And then the line snapped and the line pulled him back up. Like a rubber.

Her turn. Lines were attached. She stood off the edge. Taking her time to jump. Breathing loudly. Suddenly the noise of wind was absent. Like her ears were deaf. But her heartbeat was LOUD!

She took a deep breath and jumped.

It took her three seconds for the line to stretch out. Three seconds when all she saw was..  Everything.

She could see, in her adrenaline honed vision, the distant birds flying, the tiny particles of dust in the air. The ground she was heading towards, all the different types of plants on that ground. She saw a tiny squirrel on one of the trees. And she was that the land was becoming bigger and coming closer.

Wasn’t she supposed to be pulled back up by now? But there was no pull. The ground was reaching up to her in a tremendous speed. The line was not pulling her up.

No snap?!

Ground loomed closer, as if ready to assimilate her.

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#19 Opposites


Fiction:

Oh look at that walk. If it wasn’t coming my way then it would have been really sexy. And deadly as hell.

The tigress smiled. She knew the deer. She knew he always did that. That is why she never hunted him. That is why she always let him go.

There he is. Just a leap away and she would have his throat in her jaws. And the thing is probably the deer wouldn’t fight back.

He would probably insist that if any tiger should take his life then it should be her.

He was infatuated with her. He a simple herbivore, was obsessed with her.

‘You know my mate could be here any minute. If he so much as glances at you he will pounce. You will die and we will feast over your flesh.’ She purred.

She expected him to surrender. She knew him, his obsession didn’t allow him to stand up to her. He has done that before. He would follow her like a puppy. Like a sheep. But she didn’t see this coming.

‘He would not catch me. You know he is getting slow. And have you any idea how old he is?’

She stopped dead in her tracks.

‘You could catch me. Or you could get tired chasing. But I’m not getting caught by that senile cat. You could try chasing me with him.’

He let that sink in for a minute, let her regain her balance and hit her again.

‘Or you could leave him. And come with me’

Tigress was speechless. She knew he liked her. But this… This was a proposal!

‘I would await you at the end of the valley tonight. If you are not there till morning then I will take my leave’

He turned around, slugging and dragging his feet. A few steps later he stopped and said ‘Maybe the next time I will fall for my species’

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#18 Murder


( Cliché

Clichés become clichés for a reason. Tell us about the last time a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush for you.)

Fiction:

Please say something other than murdering them.

Let’s murder them.

Oh god it was always like that. No other solution gave a permanent answer to the problem.Its not as if it would be the first time. It would definitely be the last time. Murder was perfect.

It was cliché too.

Gangsters like him always did that. When a cop interfered too much. When a politician asked for too much share in the profit. When a neighboring gang tried to enter their turf. Murder and dispose the body. Simple. Bloody. Efficient.

But now he wanted to try something else. Threatening would do no good. He learned it long time ago, you push people they will would event I all push back. And he would have to murder them to get them out of the way.

This time he wanted more than a temporary state of power. He wanted actual control. No one should try to lay a finger on him.

So he became one of the powerful. He became a politician himself. And then hr would make sure that all the other people are his friends. Not his foes.

He wouldn’t threaten. He wouldn’t murder. He wouldn’t coerce. He will persuade. He will make the commissioners and gang leaders his accomplice.

It would be a long time before this control is established. A long time before peace can be achieved. But he was willing to wait. Willing to try.

If nothing else, then there’s always murder.

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#17 Like The Character


Fiction:

The thing about novels is that they are full of characters. And the central character, the one who you root for, one whose love stories swell your heart and one whose death leaves you depraved is mostly one you can identify with.

All the central characters are like that. They always make the reader relate to them. Their habits, likes and dislikes always coincide with reader’s.

And that is what makes them likeable.

This has always been what the John’s mentor had taught him. Want to make the reader engrossed, make the character as ordinary as possible and then cover that familiarity with layers upon layers of pretentiousness.

And the reader will love the guy. But John decided not to take that route. He wanted something new and something unseen.

So he wrote his novel in unorthodox fashion. But by the time over months he wrote the novel, he changed. His friends first cheered his dedication to the novel, then pitied him as writing made him weaker. Eventually they despised him as he changed over time.

He became the character he wrote. He became a hater of the world. He became the murderer he wrote.

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#16 Season’s Beauties


Fiction:

Dressing up to be the best. The Elfins always love Christmas.

Because at this time of the year, their family did their very best. They cleaned their house, neatly arranged their wardrobes.

Wore their best clothes. Mother Elfin wore make-up. Did her hair properly. Very stylish and chic. Holidays always brought back her impulses and enthusiasm for fashion. The long lost enthusiasm.

Her two children also are showing the same knack. They loved Eve, they get to eat cakes and chocolates and opened toys.

And they loved how beautiful their church looked. Holidays always made the ordinary look spectacular.

Christmas means beauty, means family, means happiness.

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#15 Secret Santa


( Secret Santa

You get to choose one gift — no price restrictions — for any person you want. The caveat? You have to give it anonymously. What gift would you give, and to whom?)

Fiction:

It is Christmas. The happiest times of the year. Lights everywhere. People gathering together, in their loved ones homes. Everyone tries to be human.

Even vampires.

The Crow family too celebrated Christmas. Just because they suck human blood doesn’t mean they have no right to celebrate. People have broader minds. Today Gays are required to be celibate for a year so they can donate blood. With the speed of human evolvement, it would not surprising that one day vampires and humans can celebrate holidays together.

But Christmas requires gifts. And what better gift than a rare blood group. Like a O negative. Or something like that.

As Dave dressed up, as usual in his best black suit, his wardrobe full of similar suits, he could taste the rarities tonight. Entire Crow family is here. All the way from Alaska and Texas, everyone is here. Father Crow even invited his rivals, Sanchez tonight. Father was always like that around holidays. Almost human and kind.

But it was almost his time, he would soon choose his successor. And everyone knew it would be Dave to be new head of the family.

As he descended he met Ella, the youngest of Sanchez. Lovely and deadly as always she gave him a smile that would send even the impotent drooling. But Dave just answered her with another smile and they reached the dining hall. There was music in the house. But Father was no where to be found.

And suddenly there was a scream. Now in a vampire’s house, a scream is as unusual as a humans. No one screams, especially humans in the house. The sound was from the south end of the house.

Where Father had his room. Dave raced the other house members to the room.

Only find his youngest sister, Julia crying at the door. The room was full red, full of blood. And there sat his Father’s corpse.

Someone killed his Father. Someone made him the new head of Crows.

Someone gave him a Christmas gift. Only to make it look like he killed Father.

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#14 Motivation


Fiction:

When a crowd of about hundred sit awaiting to absorb every spoken word, it is really easy. All it takes is a word to motivate them. Some more words, meticulously chosen to elevate the sociopath to serial killer.

She did that. Chased the killers.

She came to the stage. She only losers in front of her. Losers who never sought to achieve anything. Who whined and made excuses. Ordinary people. Worthless people. If she could she would kill and eat those losers.

She has done that before.

Yet she put her best smile and began speaking. She spoke of the audience’s common troubles. Divorce. Mortgage. Depths. Depression. And so on and so forth.

She spoke with perfect empathy. She never blamed the audience. Yet she showed them their mistakes. People loved that. She kept speaking. Once in a while she picked people from the crowd and spoke with them.

So boring this was.

She sensed a predator halfway through. Someone like her. Somewhere in the back. Hidden yet easy to spot. He wore a black fennel shirt. Looked like a loser, just like the crowd.

She maintained her eye contact with him for enough time to make him aware. She knows.

As she finished her speech and went backstage she awaited him. If he was like her he would come. And she would play with him. Play with him before she killed him.

How would it be this time? Slicing his throat? Strangulation? Stabbing? She didn’t have her gun so no shooting.

As she thought of more intimate ways to play and kill she went to pee.

What she didn’t realize is there was a serial bomber active.

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#13 Its The Holidays


Fiction:

December is always tough. Not because its the end of the year or because its the most expensive month of the year.

Its because it is so cold. Yes that was the only concern of the homeless. With so many people helping out, giving the homeless food and blankets to keep themselves warm.

But when has some worn out blankets a replacement for a roof above your head?

Eat some cold food. Go through the thrash. Get any job you can get. Be under scrutiny from every store owner.

Life is a cold bitch. And December is a stark reminder of that.

George sat near a drum which had fire building inside it. He did this every night. And every morning. Only way to keep his hands warm. And he was the big bad wolf around the abandoned mall. No one even tried talking to this guy. Rumors were that he is a murderer on the run. Vicious murderer. So hence the only one who get to warm his hands near the fire was him. Others built their own fires. They sat close by, in circles and happy, under the circumstances.

That night a girl drifted towards his fire. He shot her a look that would petrify the bravest. She hesitated but came closer.

She was in her teens he could see. A runny nose. Chirped lips. Mess of a hair and clothes too big for someone double her size.

‘Hi’ she tried. He ignored.

‘There were too many people around the other fires. I couldn’t get any heat from the hearth. Mind if I sit here for the time being?’

She waited a good five minutes for his reply. He didn’t react at all. He was a loner. This was his fire. He built it. He kindles it. Only he keeps himself warm. He kept his eyes to the fire. His hands palm faced to the fire.

As she turned, he said ‘Sure. Its the holidays’.

Holiday season are more than gifts and decorating.

(Post inspired by: LoudThoughtsVoicedOut’s The Santa Claus Theory )

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#12 On a really Bad Day


Fiction in less than ten sentences:

image
That's my photo, when i was two!

On a really bad day, sometimes you just need a smile.

A smile which says there are things to be happy for.

Even if that thing is air which being elusive to grab in hand.

Or a toy which you are too young to play with, yet it tastes really well.

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#11 Paint The Picture


Fiction:

Being an painter sucks. No one pays. Everyone takes your talent for granted. Everyone asks you what you do for a living. And people think that it is easy. No one realizes that art needs inspiration, but that should be something worth painting.

He sat on marine drive. Offered couples to get their sketch drawn. Offered his services. When he had no customers he looked at the sun and sighed. Sunset was always his darling. His first love. Only love.

A couple approached him. They wanted to get their sketch done.

Did I mention about his…?

He drew. He drew them like he saw. The guy for a weakling, thin ragamuffin. The girl he drew as a princess. Beautiful, kind and just by looking at her you could feel her goodness. But in reality, he looked like a prince. But she looked destitute.

They(he) stormed off in anger. 

He looked back to the sun again. But before the inspiration could hit him, another couple wanted their sketch. This was different.

He drew the girl as a vampire. Blood dripping from her fangs, and wearing more diamond than was possible. The guy he drew looked close to death. But guy looked at the same time in ecstasy.

The girl liked the sketch. Guy first refused that sketch was good, but in his eyes one could see surge of excitement.

They(he) paid graciously.

As he sat and gazed at the sun again he looked at two couples sitting near by in his right.

First couple, the guy was angry. That was obvious, but behind the veil he was in pain. God, such pain he was hiding. The girl was crying. Really and inside too. They were fed up, tried so much but they could not make it work. He felt bad for the couple. For they were really good souls. Just not good for each other.

Second couple were the same. Broken, in agony from inside. But they took selfies by the dozen. Girl pretended to look happy, guy was stupidly believing that things were okay.

Suddenly he thought, what would happen if the two couples exchanged partners. And in that moment he realized that their soul mates sat next to each other, but none were aware.

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#10 Depression.com


Fiction:

She hated the cafe. It was so full of people. People with great lives, affluent jobs and loving partners. Sometimes they come in with their children.

Children were the worse. She wanted children. But none of her boyfriends wanted to have one with her. They all cheated on her. And she knew she had it coming.

She was the one who was at fault. Something in her was lacking. That’s why her boyfriends looked elsewhere for their pleasure. That’s why her mother severed ties with her. There was something wrong with her.

She looked at the computer screen in front of her. She thought about what will happen when she bust her head into it. Figures nothing will happen, her head is not strong enough.

But she needed to use the internet. She didn’t have one at home, she couldn’t afford it. She needed a job. Antidepressants were expensive and she was broke.

As she logged in, a pop up ad appeared on the bottom of the screen. She closed it. She opened another tab and the ad appeared on the left of screen. She closed it again. This went on for like five six times. Eventually her frustration took over and shouted ‘Why don’t you fucking close down?!’

Everyone in the cafe looked at her in disgust. The small child seemed to be asking his mom what was the f word. She quickly mouthed an apology and resumed her work. The ad was insistent. It appeared again and again. Eventually she stopped closing the ad.

But she couldn’t help but read the ad. As usual it was about dating. Dating she no longer looked for. She hated it now. No one understood her. No one valued her. Must be her blame.

She eventually gave into curiosity and actually read the ad. It was an different kind of dating.

It was for those people who are not happy. Those who find fault in most things, the pessimists. The remorseful. The depressed.

And the website was catchy itself. Depression.com.

She found that there were about 5 million people profiles on the site. Now that got her interest.

She clicked the ad. And looked into the site. It was amazing. She loved it. Full of people who openly admit they are depressed. That they have undergone therapy. They are on drugs. And an expert session on how to date a depressed person.

She signed in. And with new toy, she quickly forgot about her imminent bankruptcy. She went through potential dates. Spoke with a few of them. She loved this.

But she didn’t know. That the site was a perfect playground for predators.

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#9 Letting It Go


Fiction:

He could feel the pressure emitting from her. Her shoulders shook a bit. She walked with hands hugging her body, head down and frowning.

He knew as she walked towards him that something was very wrong. More than usual. More than the everyday upsets.

She talked. Told him about her blasted interview. The interview in which interviewer was her ex-boyfriend. And how at the end when he took it personal. How he demeaned her. Threw her out of the room. Accompanied her to the elevator all the while heckling her. Every personal fight they had over the years. Every sentence uttered was carefully chosen to hurt her, in all the right places.

She just made it out of the elevator. She never cries. She gets angry. She fights. She is selfish at times, a total bitch. But who isn’t. In this world everyone’s hurt one time or the other. And now she was humiliated in front of as many strangers as possible.

She never cried when she broke up. She never cried. She knew how to mask her emotions. Never showed the world she is upset. But now her face was changing.

Her eyes was wet. Just slightly more than usual. The specs she wore made it difficult to see her eyes properly. But just barely when he really looked he knew the tears are coming.

And they came. Big tears. One. Two. Three. All in less than a second. And she realized she was crying and she stopped talking. Just for a second. Then she fell. He barely held her just before she fell on the floor. He held her when she cried.

When she shook. And by the time she stopped she was asleep. He held her. Afraid of letting her go because she will get more upset. Looking at this episode just as a weakness.

But he was happy. Because maybe now she will let it go.

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#8 Betrayal


Fiction:

He lay gasping for breath. Water kept dripping from his face, hair all wet and stuck to his face. Cold ice water that rolled down on his bidy, his back, sending shivers across his body. Making it more difficult to breathe. And they started their inquisition again. Gathering their information which will be filtered across their grapevine.

He said all he could, more often repeating stuff which he had said before, stuff which was false. All he could say from his quivering lips and tremulous voice. Past the time. Eventually today’s session will end, and as his information will be less valuable he will too be less valuable. Hanging is imminent.

And he will embrace it like a old lover.

It was not always like this. Once he was a soldier. Once he was a friend. A loved one, but was the reckless one.

He played with fire all too much. The more exciting it got, more he wanted it the next time. He liked dangerous. Longed for danger. And that killed his collegues.

Somehow the more he looked back the more suicidal the mission looked like. Hell, that must be why he accepted it. That is why he was assigned with people like him. The ones who played with fire too much. And that must be why there was, is no rescue attempt.

Someone must have made a deal. Someone betrayed him. And he had no regrets now. He had it coming. He only wanted to know who betrayed him.

Which one of the friends that he ate with, he slept with, he fought with, betrayed him. And it hurts. This betrayal. And what hurts even more is the fact that he will never know who was the one responsible.

But that he has to let go. As the end is coming and when it does he will be ecstatic.

Because he liked danger. And death will be the ultimate reward.

#7 Last Train


Fiction:

What’s the name? Crude?! That’s messed up. What’s your story? You fell. Okay.

Next. What’s your name? Sophi. You are awfully young. Your story? Female foeticide. Stupid! What’s wrong with this world.

That world, she corrected himself. That world. Past. She left that world fifteen years ago. Fifteen years which seem like fifteen million years. That long it has been. And only way to keep track of passage of time is because of these fresh batch of people.

Fresh batch of dead people. Dead people who come in thousands everyday.

Each with a different story. Fell off a building. Female foeticide. Bomb blast. Electrocuted. And each more gruesome than last. With the people’s souls still tingly with last few moments of life in them. Their agonies. Pain and screams contorting their faces.

A person with weaker heart would have fallen on the ground and sobbed. An alive person at least.

She was not alive. And her heart?! She would laughed at that if she knew how to. Remembered to. So when she boarded the train fifteen years ago, looking like these souls, agonized and sorrowful, she got a job offer. Another person had the job which does now.

She has to conduct the train of dead. Ask souls about their death. Their names and match it with list of incoming dead. Any body extra was probably an intruder trying to steal souls. Or get revenge. Or something superficial.

Death changes one’s perspective. Revenge, stealing seems like such paltry things. Everyone will end up here. Why bother.

She took the job. On one condition.

And she went to next booth.

Name? Hades?! She looked up. He is Hades. Her employer. One who made a deal with. He looked the same. Not a day older. Full in black. Tall and deadly handsome.

Deadly, really deadly.

He sat there with a new girl. Really hot girl. His type. New secretary maybe.

‘My lord?’

‘My dedicated worker. I think this train should be your last. You fulfilled your contract. I will go and find some other soul to do the duties. ‘

And with that he stood and walked out, closing the door on his way out. And the full force of what he said dawned on her.

There she stood, in her last train completing her contract. Means the condition was satiated.  That means…. The girl who looked hot was…. Was, IS her daughter.

(Post idea was from this fiction Post: Upstanding Citizens)

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#6 (Over) Connecting


Fiction:

Like!

Share!

Love it!

Hate it!

Comment!

Thrash!

Being yourself(anonymously).

That’s what Steve did. Entire day. Facebook on one tab, instagram on other. Twitter on his phone. YouTube on his computer.

Oh, new selfie by that hot girl: like!
Oh, picture with her boyfriend: Hate!

Ex girlfriend uploaded a new song which she covered. Thrash!(anonymously)

Cute baby picture: Hate! Small creatures only make life miserable. His best friend had a baby with his girlfriend. Now its all baby baby photos. Hate the little Satan’s!!

I have an amazing life! I could get whatever I want. Everything is right here. Everything!

Post about a guy coming out about his homosexuality. Thrash. Stupid people and their worries.

Steve sat there with three packs of wafers and one bottle of coke. Litter all around him, around his couch.

Suddenly net dies. And so does Steve.

What to do now?

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#5 Ruling The World!


( Countdown

‘Tis the season for suspense-building lists.)

Flash Fiction:

Kanja sat in the interrogation room with a paper and pen for his confession. His lawyer had a talk with him. They laid out a stratagem.

Kanja wrote this:

1. Find the guy who actually committed the murder
2. Kill him. Or if killer is a girl, marry her.
3. Kill the police inspector who captured me.
4. Kill Commissioner.
5. Kill the President.
6. Make Teen Patti National Game.
7. Launch Nuclear Weapons.
8. Rule the world!!!

He ended up in the mental asylum.

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#4 Eureka!


Fiction:

Nothing was coming up!

He sighed, frustrated as he prepared his bathtub.

Two years it has been since he last wrote a story. Two years. His driest spell yet. It was not as if he couldn’t get ideas, they were a dime a dozen.

But none that were absolutely amazing. None were even close to his previous movies. All three of his previous movies were blockbusters, giving him a national award each.

He became the most famous screenwriter of industry, every producer wanted him. Every actor wanted to act on his play, and every reporter wanted to know what goes on in his mind.

But that was two years ago. Every idea that lit up in his mind, he himself took it apart. Nothing was good enough.

So in desperation he did things. He got drunk, a lot. More often that ended up with him landing in an unknown part of town with a girl whose name he couldn’t recall.

He got high a lot. That ended up with a overdose case which could have killed him. He still thanks God that he was nearby a hospital. Never again he touched drugs.

He read novels. Attended plays. For some inspiration. Something that could satisfy his own critic.

Eventually he hosted parties. Not for booze, he never touched it. The wine he held in his hand but never drank. He talked to the guest. All of the guest.

He asked them about their lives. Their loves, their dislikes. Their history, their dreams and their fears. Everything that he could scratch off them he did.

That made him a lot more popular. Everyone gave him a good time, everyone liked him. Once in a party he was a bigger cynosure then all the actresses.

But nothing made sense. Now he wanted an out. He had enough money to settle down. He could not work his entire life and still his children would have enough. He was thinking of going to some remote place, nearby a beach and lived there.

Nothing to do. Relaxation for rest of his life. His Elysium.

Dreaming of what and how his house will look like, he noticed the ripples produced by his body in the bathtub. He looked closely.

Saw the ripple getting weaker the more distance it traveled. And saw little water spilling out of the tub.

And click!!

He got an idea. Perfect idea. He got up, dashed out of his bathroom stark naked, yelling ‘Eureka! Eureka!’

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#3 Silhouettes


Fiction:

He kissed her!

It had been over two hours ago, after the kiss he gave his conceited smile and vanished, leaving Mandy on the roof alone, cold and yet warm all over.

Mandy couldn’t sleep, rethinking about the kiss, what it meant. Everyone knew she liked Hank, now Hank kissed her. This is what she wanted for as long as she could remember. It felt dreamy, and every two minutes she kept musing over it, twirling her hair around fingers and blushing.

An hour more she fidgeted over the kiss. Then she remembered where she was. Why she was here and who else was here with her.

Her grandfather had been keeping I’ll for months now. It was probably time he found peace and left his failing body. But he endured. And he had every reason to endure.

Everyday his lawyer sat with him in the ICU room, isolated and mostly discussing the Will. The will that dictates what will happen to the dynasty.

The 3 billion dollar dynasty.

Everyone of the family and descendants arrived a week ago when the butler cried rapidly falling health. A week they sat under one roof, if hospital and the house and talked.

But make no mistake everyone wanted the highest portion of the pie available. They all hated each other, as siblings do when money is involved.

And Hank was the husband of elder sister, Gretchen. Gretchen was the second elder sibling with Tom being the eldest and Wayne being the third. And Mandy the youngest. And each had their own masks, they each played their parts in the ill health of grandfather.

But history aside they all wanted the same thing: Money.

And Mandy wanted Hank too, childishly and foolishly. She realized that this was a coy on his part. There have been many of those in the house, anything to get more.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Butler’s call about the inevitable.

***

The funeral was as big as this town could see.  And after every one of the sibling and cousin and who not paid their respects only the four siblings were left in the church. 

Gretchen had been crying through the entire ceremony. Tom was blank as usual. And Wayne wanted to cry. Mandy stood near grandfather.

She realized with a start that her three siblings were standing close by. Gretchen wasn’t crying anymore, the water was for the audience only. No one spoke for a while.

Tom surprised everyone by saying ‘I loved him. And I’ll miss him. He was our Father, our Mother. Our everything.’

Mandy noticed a tear rolling down his left cheek. He didn’t wipe it out.
And Gretchen swallowed. Mandy had a lump in her throat too. She never expected Tom to be the one to cry first. He was the strength, resolve. Dams broke and they all cried again.

Gretchen sobbed with her head buried in Tom’s shoulder, Mandy and Wayne held each other afraid to let go because they feared their knees will buckle.

This time it wasn’t for the audience. It was real, as real as they could be. They loved him. And with him gone they will miss him. They knew what was coming, the will had to be read. The power struggle was coming.

But now they terribly missed him. Now their silhouettes portrayed their true selves.

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#2 Lets Catch A Dragon


Fiction:

‘You want to do what Jere?!’ Keri shouted.

Jere knew this was coming. They had traveled so long on their journey because Keri trusted him. Because keri trusted his plan, even if it was unmentioned.

Now when they have traveled half way around the world and they have landed on this mysterious land far from their homeland Jere had to confide in Keri.

And that is the worst part. He had a confidence that this is his destiny. Everything’s he has done in his life has led up to this land.

Has led up to land of Dragons!

Now here he had to convince his best friend, his brother and only friend that his plan was going to work.

‘Yes we are here to catch a dragon. Don’t you see that this is the only way to win the war back home. War on a dragon backs. And you are here, might as well do it.’

Keri needed a lot of pursuing. An entire day later he went from blatant refusal to hesitation. Eventually he agreed to go ahead with the plan, only if Jere gave him half of whatever money he had back home.

Jere disappointed, understood that too late his best friend was only after the riches.

They ate and went into the land. Keri had no clue about the land. But Jere did.

The land was an empire. An empire which was ruled by one family for the last two thousand years. No one could conquer it.

Maybe because the land was so remote. But the rumors was dragons defend the empire.

And if only one of such dragon could be captured. Brought back to homeland and unleashed on the enemy. Fires and destruction all the way. And Jere would be the hero.

Jere The Dragon Catcher!

He liked the sound of that. That is what he kept on telling himself every time his resolve flagged. A Day of walking on foot they reached a village. Village surrounded by scorched earth.

Keri now believed in dragons, walking on burned earth makes you believe. But they have not yet spotted a single dragon.

They could spot villagers down the valley, minding their business. But they were strange. All of them were tall. Really tall. And from far it was obvious that they were bred warriors. They carried weapons on them.

But no dragon.

They scanned the village valley for hours, trying to gauge what they villagers do, what they eat. There were no farms and no market was discernable.

‘Say Jere where are those winged creatures?’

Jere was thinking the same when they heard some flapping noise. Noise of wings. BIG wings from the sound of them.

From the left they saw huge birds flying towards the village. Three of them were flying towards the village.

Too far to descry any physical features other than color: all of them were black. And they descended towards the village.

Jere’s heart leaped up his throat. Dragons were here to pillage the village. And their descend was as terrifying as it was graceful and swift. One moment they were up next they had almost on the village.

And the next they were three tall humans.

(Post inspired by Cloud Dragons)

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#1 Drink’s the Father


Fiction:

Her eyes were darting, always returning back to the same shelf on her left. She licked her lips, said “Andrew get me that sauce”.

Another lick of her lips. Andrew knew what was going on. He had anticipated it.

They were in the mall, holiday shopping it is. And the worse time of the year for his mom.

Holidays meant happiness, ideally. But for his mom they were cooking and cleaning and every other household chore that needs to be done so that the holidays all in all becomes perfect.

And the holidays were also the time when He left. His father. Her husband. Two years ago, no warning, no fights nothing. And till today no phone call or any message. Andrew was 11 then.

Mom cried and cried. Then she shouted and threw his stuff out of the house. Then she picked up whiskey. And she drank till she was peeing whiskey and drank more with arms she cut herself. Andrew and his sister Sophia cowed whenever she went into a rampage in the house. He was glad that the day mother cut herself, Sophia was not at home. Somebody called the authorities, it was not Andrew.

Large amount of anonymous alcoholics and anti-depressants later she came back. Sophia cried herself to sleep every night, Andrew used to hold her while she slept. And now while mother is almost normal the holidays are here. And they are standing in the mall with alcohol on the shelf to the left.

Mother pulls herself together and moves forward. They shop, Andrew pleading for every new toy he sees, mother persuading him to buy it the next time he comes there. But he could see her hustle. She wants to leave and drive home and have coffee, have this mall as far behind as possible. So he stops pleading eventually.

Sophia is not at home, at some of her friends place. Its snowing outside, driveway is piled up with snow. They get inside the home, mother whining about having to clean the driveway after dinner. Leaves the shopping bags on the kitchen and just  drops on the couch.

Unsure of what to do, Andrew turns on the TV. They watch a couple of minutes while mother is drinking water, like three bottles of water. She is keeping her hands busy, with remote or with her hair or with her sweater. Anything to keep her mind off.

Sophia is about to be home any minute now, its almost 7 pm. Mother has fallen asleep on the couch. Andrew wakes her up with a coffee.

“You know how to make coffee?”

“Yeah I watched you make them. You were asleep and tired so I made one for you. And no mom, I did not drink it”

She smiled. And Andrew recalled her old smile. There was just a hint of that old smile and laughter now. But it was there.

“Andrew!!” Sophia shouted from the driveway, “come here and help me clean it up.”

Mother looked perplexed, Andrew gave a loop sided smile and said “I may have ordered her to clean the snow. She refused. We had to have a compromise.”

He wore his gloves and opened the door, and there was Sophia with a big fistful of snow in her hands. She threw it at his face.

Mother gasped. Andrew gasped. Sophia laughed and bolted outside.

Andrew ran after her. Mother sighed suddenly remembering that they are just children yet. For now.

(Post inspired by reading Candid Kay’s blog post: Christmas tree left of centre)

30 Days 30 Fictions


When I started this blog, I did it to improve my creative writing.

Now my exams are finished and I have a month of free time, I intend to make use of it.

So in the coming thirty days, starting from tomorrow I will write a fictional story each day and publish it.

I think I can come up with a fiction a day!

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

Inside My Head


Fiction:

image

There were three brothers once:
Let’s call them Good, Bad and Third.

Good wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted to be the person who takes care of others, who is the perfect son, the perfect Friend.

He could not see others in misery, their pain weakened his knees. He couldn’t imagine a world with sorrow and suffering. All he ever wanted to was to bring smile to everyone’s face.

And he had to fight to do that, and what was worse: He had to fight his brother Bad.

Bad hated the world. He wanted to inflict pain on others. Make fun of them. Bully them. And every blow given to Good only made Bad more heinous. He just wanted to make the world burn.

He hated God, for he hated himself too. He hated his brothers but he hated someone else hurting them more. Whimsical and tyrannical, he sought to make sure that when he gained control of world, he would remember everyone who brought him to his knees would suffer.

And so fought the two brothers. Again and again. Good crying over fighting his brother, Bad laughing in self hatred.

But where was the Third?

Third sat on the throne. His cavalier manner, indulgence and negligence exacerbated everything. After all, Third decoded to sit on the throne only till either of the two brothers become victorious just so he could be on his way.

This is how it has always been: Good and Bad fighting through all eternity, while Third sat idle. And under his, world rejoiced in freedoms, and under his world burned.

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

Who Made You?


(Handmade Tales

Automation has made it possible to produce so many objects — from bread to shoes — without the intervention of human hands (assuming that pressing a button doesn’t count). What things do you still prefer in their traditional, handmade version?)

Fiction:

The huge metal exoskeleton looked at him. His red LED eyes could be surmised at being bloodshot. And his gargantuan arms had lifted a SUV off the ground. The internal mechanisms of the automation seemed to sound more and more like ragged breaths. Andrew gulped.

And as suddenly as that the automation went inanimate. The SUV still lifted off the ground by at least ten feet, the automation turned off. Andrew was confused. The automation shouldn’t be turned off now, not when another needs to go below the SUV and repair it.

“Heinous things aren’t these” Shawn called from behind him.

Andrew turned and greeted his childhood friend, who as of now was his boss too. But who cares, meeting him was always a good feeling.

Shawn continued “If they spend thousands of dollars making these machines can’t they look a little less horrible. I mean look at it, all the cables popping out of his limbs, cables all over him. If you have a figment of my imagination, that looks like a crabbed old man. Um wait, it also looks like your granddad Andrew.”

They both laughed at the similarities between the machine and the loving granddad. Shawn was always like that, he could smell if anyone had any difficulty and would always come to  aid. They both talked for a while and then continued to move towards the cafeteria.

The entire factory was deserted. Most of the workers were on strike, opposite the factory. Strike was simple, stop using machines, it increases their chances of getting a pink slip. A couple of the other issues, unions and certain interested parties also had their motives in the strike. But the main concern was this. Workers are being replaced by machines.

“Say Shawn” Andrew began “How long do you think the strike is gonna go on for?”

“Can’t say. They always go to strike these days. Every issue it seems is solved by strikes. But I don’t think they should be concerned with they getting replaced by machines.”

“Um, we are replacing them aren’t we? That’s what those machines are for?”

“Yeah but they,are forgetting something. Who is gonna make those machines? We are. That’s right, the authorities are so darn impressed by these bots that they are considering building a separate factory just to make that. And then sell the machines of course.”

Andrew couldn’t help but think about Terminator. His face must have shown it because Shawn continued, “You see the bosses are not very keen on mass termination of employees”

Andrew looked sharply at Shawn who snickered a laugh and continued “You aren’t looking at the bigger picture here. The more bigger the neighboring new factory is gonna be, the more employees they are gonna handle. We have employees who are loyal just there, doing nothing. They are great in mechanics and auto machinery. Perfect for new factory.”

Shawn has a point. “After all these machines aren’t here to steal people’s jobs, they are here so that people couldn’t work more. Simple jobs that require the employees only to press buttons.”

“You must have forgotten something. Even if we are turning this town into machines, who makes these machines? Well we do. And as long as the machines are there, there are jobs!”

Andrew was convinced that Shawn was right. More machines, more jobs. After all these autos were nothing but man made creations aren’t they?

(Since I am an engineer, I couldn’t write bad about these automatons. So I just wrote that these machines too are man made!)

Let’s see what others have written:
http://sugarcoatingsince91.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/bread/
http://guthonestfaith.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/the-brave-little-tailor/
http://tombalistreri.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/time-user/
http://pintsof.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/daily-prompt-handmade-tales
http://wporterxblog.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/fast-food-is-fantastic/
http://transformsiberia.com/2014/07/30/nosh-some-khuushuur-taste-the-steppe/
http://dragoneystory.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/daily-prompt-automation/
http://deanbowman.co/2014/07/31/obscurity
http://zainabjavid.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/hand-skills/
http://dragoneystory.wordpress.com/2013/12/22/take-a-break-and-see-the-place-we-truly-call-home/
http://onemanversustheworld.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/married-to-a-friend/
http://wanderingideasoflife.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/divertiti/
http://fibercompulsion.com/2014/07/31/handmade-tales/
http://risingrave28.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/the-story-of-bread/
http://yellowelcamino.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/the-art-of-coffee/
red speck
http://oneseventwentyfourteen.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/committing-technologicide/
http://lindaswritingblog.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/my-favorite-things/
http://agirllikemee.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/just-one-thing/
While on CIPRO longing for a handmade strawberry daiquiri and mojito
http://dumbifyisnotaword.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/not-blog-10-blogging-before-internet/
http://priyankakanagaraj.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/your-hands-are-your-art-2/
ONE-OF-A-KIND
http://charlieray45.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/leave-my-biscuits-alone/
http://mjamesjackson.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/use-your-hands/
http://wordswewomenwrite.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/a-handmade-tale-the-myths-say-that-the-raven-brought-fire-to-the-people-by-stealing-it-from-the-sun-im-similarly-enlightened-by-the-ravens-and-childre
http://artmoscow.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/naming-the-dog-on-my-plate/
http://seikaiha.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/daily-prompt-handmade-tales-a-confession/

Monochrome Monday: Craft Fair


http://jahnavichintakunta.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/handmade-oh-soooo-sweeeeet/
http://yzhengblog.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/thick-and-thin-plates/
http://jaynesdailypost.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/handmade-tales/
http://wherevertheheartgoes.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/a-tribute-to-the-good-old-fashioned-maths/
http://senorpez.com/fresh-ground/
http://keyboardpizza.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/home-cooked-history/
http://marthakennedy.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/romance-novel/
http://mywitchkitchen.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/chocolate-my-guilty-pleasure/
http://mariesmemoirs14.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/handmade-pulls-on-the-heartstrings/
http://grieflessons.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/luddite-within-reason/
Daily Prompt: Handmade Tales – I am Mrs. Do-It-Yourself in person
http://suburbanunwife.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/daily-bread/
http://pippakinclawz.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/3228/
http://psibrone.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/of-snickerdoodles-and-lemon-meringue-pies/
http://livelifeincrescendo.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/homemade-canning/
Rise of the Machines: 3D-Printed Pizza Vs. Handmade Pizza
http://moreactionresearch.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/acting-handmade/
http://themasculinepen.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/daily-post-that-one-handmade-thing/
http://cognitivereflection.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/handmade-tales/

http://theshotgungirls.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/considerately-made-presents-and-pies/
http://joantatley.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/why-do-we-give-in/
http://pollyannapress.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/my-kind-of-bling/
http://kansamuse.me/2014/07/31/hand-made-treasures/
http://agonyandecstacy.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/reading-the-old-fashioned-way/
http://flowersandbreezes.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/handmade-tales/
http://joatmon14.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/the-only-way-to-read/
http://basicallybeyondbasic.com/2014/07/31/daily-prompt-handmade-tales/
The lost art of penmanship (writing prompt)
http://stepstimestwo.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/handmade-tales-homemade-mozzarella/
http://musingsofawarmheart.wordpress.com/2014/06/28/amigurumi-2/
http://knsalustro.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/maybe-im-biased-on-this-one-maybe/
http://ava1martini.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/the-show-cover-ukulele-and-guitarlele-version/
http://randommstuffblah.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/handmade/
http://briething.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/good-old-fashioned-words/
http://typosandterseness.com/2014/07/31/a-handmade-pregnancy/
http://allthingscuteandbeautiful.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/daily-prompt-being-handmade/
http://fisundigniuwe.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/what-things-do-you-still-prefer-in-their-traditional-handmade-version/
http://bobbeck1600.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/daily-prompt-handmade-tales/
http://thisonpurpose.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/the-fine-art-of-making-tasty-treats-and-edible-edibles/
http://wriculent.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/non-modern-art/
http://rustyiam.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/handy/
http://beatofmydrumx.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/how-can-you-beat-handmade/
http://flippyzipflop.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/986/
http://mindfuldigressions.com/2014/07/31/homemade-or-made-from-scratch/
http://insach21site.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/handmade-tales/
http://goodgollymissmollie94.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/daily-prompt-handmade-tales-from-the-mouth/
http://alotfromlydia.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/lets-go-back/
http://musingsofawarmheart.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/my-world-of-play-amigurumi/
http://shardsofsilence.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/lobster-love-blogniversary/
http://badosto.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/daily-prompt-handmade-tales/
http://meaningunfolding.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/handmade-tales-kintsugi-and-other-things/
http://meaningunfolding.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/handmade-tales-kintsugi-and-other-things/
http://emotionalfitnesstraining.com/2014/07/31/laugh-play-pray-make-something/
http://silverthreading.com/2014/07/31/prussian-crochet/
http://eastelmhurstagogo.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/frankenstein-opens-pandoras-box/
http://windywonderings.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/the-sock-story/
http://acmelodyblog.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/why-i-dont-eat-ice-cream/
http://meowscripture.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/black-magic-vinyl/
http://stuffmydogtaughtme.com/2014/07/31/friendship/
http://myjourneytofindmyself.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/books-vs-the-kindle/
http://epentesi.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/racconti-fatti-a-mano/
http://thisblogneedsatitle.com/2014/07/31/daily-peompt-reading-a-book/
Handmade Gifts of Love
http://stuffenonsense.wordpress.com/2014/08/01/left-foot-right-foot/
http://sienawritesthings.wordpress.com/2014/08/01/handmade-tales/
http://theultimatefundraiser.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/handmade-tales-handcrafted-furniture/
http://purplepeninportland.wordpress.com/2014/08/01/dial-me-a-phone/
http://testmecards.wordpress.com/2014/08/01/learn-science-by-handmade-experiments/
http://legendsoflorata.wordpress.com/2014/08/01/handmade-tales/
http://jaysnaps.wordpress.com/2014/08/01/at-the-show/
http://20somethingrealism.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/daily-prompt-handmade-tales/
http://99problemsanddone.wordpress.com/2014/08/01/made-with-love/
http://fieldofthorns.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/dreams-twilight-a-nyquil-sight/
http://lifeassirli.wordpress.com/2014/08/01/do-it-youself/
http://soulfoood.me/2014/08/01/the-mummification-is-now-complete-love-letters-to-my-son/
http://funnierrevolt.wordpress.com/2014/08/01/handled-letters/
http://writingpromptsforrookiewriters.wordpress.com/2014/08/01/the-daily-posts-prompt-from-yesterday-handmade-tales/
http://laughagain.wordpress.com/2014/08/01/stainless-steel-chef/

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

Punctuation And Misfits


Daily Prompt
( By the Dots

We all have strange relationships with punctuation — do you overuse exclamation marks? Do you avoid semicolons like the plague? What type of punctuation could you never live without? Tell us all about your punctuation quirks!)

Fiction

Jon: We could try to get that guy he knows how to work this project out he is good last year he worked for another group on their project and delivered a quality product

Kay: Oh come on! Pause a bit. There are full stops and commas in English language for this purpose exactly. You are very difficult to understand when you keep babbling like this.

Dave: Ha. Ha. Ha. You. Are. So. Stupid. At. Times. Jon.

Quentin sighed. Three weeks it has been and almost every time they meet they hardly come to a decision. And as usual he kept his silence.

Jon: Alright. You guys remember Shawn and his group?

It was painfully plain to Quentin that Jon was trying his best to speak properly. Wonder how long that will last.

Everyone nodded their affirmation.

Jon:  Yeah yeah Shawn and his group needed an application on their project and they didn’t know what to do they tried and tried but till last they couldn’t make one and at last they had to resort to a app developer for hire and it was costly yes yes but it took the hired developer to make an app like a day or so…..

Jon would have continued but professor William walked into their conversation.

Quentin regretted this already. Meeting and discussing their project in the college university was a mistake. If someone overheard them their ideas could easily be stolen. A big university like this had a lot of people competing for attention. And now Jon was speaking of cheating. And a professor had overheard them.

This was not going to be good.

William: Don’t mind’e. I’m jus’ passin’ by. But couldn’t help’t overh’r you talkin’ about cheatin’?

Quentin spoke for the first time.

Quentin: Was nothing sir. We don’t know anything about no cheating sir.

William looked at Quentin closely and nodded.

He walked away. Every member of the group looked at Quentin.

Quentin looked around and grinned.

Quentin: You were saying Jon?

(Please do comment and give your feedback!)

Let’s see what others wrote:
http://underthemonkeytree.com/2014/06/29/beyond-excited-lol/
Grunt Work
http://tuckedintoacorner.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/punctuating-my-words/
http://dragoneystory.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/daily-prompt-exclamation-marks/
http://turboblaze09.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/punctual-punctuation/
http://randomlyabstract.wordpress.com/2014/06/19/punctuated/
http://agirllikemee.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/comma-arggaah/
http://finaletoanentrance.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/in-honor-of-the-comma/
http://tombalistreri.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/comma-trauma/
http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/06/23/1233/
http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/06/02/3235/
http://kartikkotian.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/the-exclamation-and-the-question/
http://borderlinepersonalitybliss.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/punctuation-saves-lives/
http://paracetamoloverdose.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/double-feature/
http://thefloralbunny.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/commas-periods-semicolons-oh-my/
http://mylittleavalon.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/the-grammar-nazi-a-dark-flash-fiction/
http://jaynesdailypost.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/by-the-dots/
http://enchantedlivingplaybook.com/2014/06/29/romancing-the-comma/
http://kansamuse.me/2014/06/29/vexing-punctuation/
http://naziyahmahmood.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/i-ate-granny/
http://bohemianstargypsy.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/because-there-is-more-to-tell-by-the-dots/
http://blainecindy.com/2014/06/29/crystal-clear/
http://alotfromlydia.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/punctuation-problem/
http://officialmattroberts.com/2014/06/29/daily-prompt-by-the-dots/
http://tyastlc.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/playing-with-dots-and-commas/
Daily Prompt: By the dots – what dots?
http://jscottiblog.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/a-love-letter-to-the-enabling-elements-of-punctuation/
http://greenembers.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/punctuation-where-were-going-we-dont-need-punctuation/
Pointed Avoidance
http://activearmywife.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/relations/
http://deanbowman.co/2014/06/29/synchronicity-turns-50/
http://awanderingstoryteller.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/your-stupid/
http://sawyersundries.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/postaday-daily-prompt-3/
http://thebebuiltblog.com/2014/06/29/dp_promptby-the-dots/
http://allthingscuteandbeautiful.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/daily-prompt-being-punctuated/
http://61musings.com/2014/06/29/to-comma-or-not-to-comma/
http://sarahao8689.wordpress.com/2014/06/30/lol/
http://flippyzipflop.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/daily-prompt-by-the-dots/

http://idleandboredtwo.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/daily-prompt-punctuation/
http://fakedoc101.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/punctuationsquestion-mark-comma-i-use-them-a-lotdot/
http://mjamesjackson.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/thats-all-period/
http://mindfuldigressions.com/2014/06/29/punctuation-pet-peeves/
http://thenibloggedit.wordpress.com/2014/06/30/do-you-overuse-them/
http://flowersandbreezes.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/punctuation/
http://layloushti.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/the-comma-user/
http://newteacherlife.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/by-the-dot/
Punctuation, Perfectly Positioned, Promotes Productive Prose
http://okcforgottenman.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/parenthetically-speaking/
http://inconversion.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/bitter-roots/
http://bylrose.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/what-whatever/
http://tyrocharm.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/punctuation/
http://dant3z.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/my-never-ending-story/
http://femalecriterion.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/eats-shoots-and-leaves/
http://jacobnewton1018.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/periods-and-the-two-spaces-after-them/
http://maineforestcafe.com/2014/06/29/enter-the-interrobang-2/
http://yogamomdaily.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/you-haunt-me-mr-twain-an-exploration-of-punctuation/
http://bluejbluej.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/say-what%e2%80%bd/
http://abbiesbabble.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/pause-and-breathe/
http://musingsfrommyid.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/by-the-dots/
http://lynnesartandsoul.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/my-whole-life-has-been-disappointing-so-how-come-i-use-so-many-exclamation-marks/
http://justvisitingthisplanetblog.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/daily-prompt-true-grit-by-the-dots
I Love You Oxford Comma
http://robertjepson.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/the-life-of-a-comma/
http://willowscottling.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/lets-eat-grandpa/
http://grieflessons.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/unruly-punctuation/
http://shardsofsilence.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/ellipsis/
http://eastelmhurstagogo.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/about-punctuation
http://mydeliblog.wordpress.com/2014/06/30/the-comma
http://uncustomaryhousewife.wordpress.com/2014/06/30/a-tale-of-two-commas/
Ellipsis Queen: Daily Post
http://sbjamestheauthor.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/introducing-the-interrobang/
http://professoradrstilettorockstar.wordpress.com/2014/06/30/alliteration-and-other-stuffs/
http://pinkpodster.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/by-the-dots-ellipsis-junkie/
http://thedaily400.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/punctuation/
http://katesclippings.wordpress.com/2014/06/30/by-the-dots
http://barbarapyett.wordpress.com/2014/06/30/httpdailypost-wordpress-comdp_promptby-the-dots/
http://duniyaku.wordpress.com/2014/06/30/by-the-dots-meet-the-drafters

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

I stood… Now I move (An autobiography)


(Living Art

One day, your favorite piece of art — a famous painting or sculpture, the graffiti next door — comes to life. What happens next?)

Fiction

I stood my ground. For ten years I stood my ground. Now I move. No more.

You made me in homage. You made me in resemblance to someone. Mostly someone great. Someone you never met. Someone you read about in your history books. But you made me.

I was black ceramic, lustrous in my birth. I stood in that posture that you wanted. That posture which must have become an identity. And I stood my ground.

I was proud. Head held high. Broaden chest. My eyes turned towards the skies, yet I still saw those who stood beneath me. And I stood my ground.

But years went by. You held speeches around me. You wore clothes like I wear. As if that makes you like me. You paid your respects to me on one day of the year. And I stood my ground.

I stood in the sun. No shade for my eyes. No relief for my skin. I lost my lustre. But I gave shade for those who couldn’t find shade. I stood my ground.

I drenched in the rains. Saw the city flooded, with water seeping into my ankles. Water made cracks in my unscathed skin. And I still stood my ground.

Birds chirped on my shoulders. And gave their offerings there. Cats and dogs dogs slept against my legs. I didn’t move. I stood my ground.

This place became acknowledged by a new name. I changed the name. I became a landmark. Guess that is how you make people remember the dead. Make them part of the diurnal routes. I achieved my goal.

Now I am leaving. Maybe people will run witnessing me move. I’ll definitely be on their phones and whatnot. But I stood my ground. Now I want to sit. And bath in the nearby lake.

And embrace the end that I have earned.

Let’s see what others have written:
21 Rules to My Life
Dubai Art Season – SIKKA14
http://underthemonkeytree.com/2014/06/09/must-have-happened-to-some-else/
http://ambitiousdrifter.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/daily-prompt-its-alive/
http://worldwidesoulmate.wordpress.com/2014/06/10/living-art-touching-shadow-dance/
http://dragoneystory.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/daily-prompt-living-art/
http://tuckedintoacorner.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/the-cafe/
Living Art
http://furrynuff.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/the-daily-post-living-art/
The Daily Post Writing Prompt: The Pitchfork Murders
http://agirllikemee.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/my-day-with-a-sculpture/
http://jitterygt.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/hope-my-favorite-paintings-dont-come-to-life/
http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/06/08/a-glimpse-of-england/
http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/06/02/3235/
http://journey2dfuture.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/daily-prompt-day6-living-art/
http://tnkerr.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/daily-prompt-living-art/
http://abimazumdar1.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/daily-prompt-an-interview-with-lisa/
http://dcmontreal.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/abdicating-monarchs-butterflies-and-others/
http://meaningunfolding.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/living-art-michelangelos-david/
http://dragoneystory.wordpress.com/2013/05/09/the-light-of-faith-always-shines-bright/
http://spiritgrind.com/2014/06/09/soulprint-iii-master-piece/
http://agent909.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/living-art-redefining-art-in-daily-usage/
http://grver.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/living-sounds-daily-prompt/
http://herestill.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/daily-prompt-living-art/
SIT! STAY! THINK!
http://mjamesjackson.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/fishing-with-the-fisherman/
http://fibercompulsion.com/2014/06/09/living-art-walking-bear-takes-over/
http://littlegirlstory.wordpress.com/2014/06/10/living-art-my-mothers-day-treat/
http://kansamuse.me/2014/06/09/the-ride-on-the-canal/
http://awanderingstoryteller.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/cupcakes-and-more/
http://legelcas.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/bring-me-to-life/
http://activearmywife.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/bejin-by-david-agenjo/
http://activearmywife.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/bejin-by-david-agenjo/
http://kate0murray.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/stick-man/
http://eyesthroughtheglass.com/2014/06/09/a-chance-to-see-into-the-darkness/
http://marthakennedy.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/art-to-life/
http://pippakinclawz.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/httpdailypost-wordpress-comdp_promptliving-art/
http://justkate914.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/the-daily-post-living-art/
http://idleandboredtwo.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/the-painting/
http://alienorajt.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/morgan-le-fay-daily-prompt/
http://ledrakenoir.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/the-large-studio-of-nature/
http://grieflessons.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/world-like-a-white-stomach/
http://lifeisgreat0.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/living-art/
Daily Post: Living Art – A Journey into the world of Surrealism
http://robertjepson.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/the-forgotten-soldier/
http://pencilnibbler.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/emerging-from-a-painting/
http://dewritermd.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/living-art-and-unnumbered-sparks/
http://jaynesdailypost.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/living-art/
http://artmoscow.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/if-a-nude-gets-alive-she-becomes-naked/
http://justvisitingthisplanetblog.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/life-imitating-art/
http://rainswritingrealm.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/living-art/
http://flowersandbreezes.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/van-goghs-sunflowers/
http://tyrocharm.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/gang-graffiti-unsettlingly-alive/
http://allthingscuteandbeautiful.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/daily-prompt-being-artistic/
http://typosandterseness.com/2014/06/09/is-yoga-art/
http://whoison1st.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/living-art/
http://photoartistrycafe.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/living-art/
http://duniyaku.wordpress.com/2014/06/10/living-art-the-doll-house/
The King Beneath the Mountain of Gold
http://basicallybeyondbasic.com/2014/06/09/daily-prompt-living-art/
SCARE THE KIDDIES
http://nonsmokingladybug.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/lets-see-if-i-got-it-right-in-school-2/
http://eastelmhurstagogo.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/trop-mignon/
http://hooray4rae.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/sorry-chef-boyardee/
http://bylrose.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/adding-the-third-dimension/
http://emotionalfitnesstraining.com/2014/06/09/being-with-monet/
http://thebookreadby1.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/meeting-the-void/
http://reneeandherthoughts.com/2014/06/09/living-art-the-scream/
http://lindalulong.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/permission-love-sex-poetry/
http://polymathically.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/the-winged-not-quite-victory/
http://borderlinepersonalitybliss.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/the-living-art-or-the-art-of-living/
http://theastridoxfordstory.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/living-art/
http://uncustomaryhousewife.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/meetcaptainamerica/
http://greyzr.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/living-art/
http://dailymusing57.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/living-art-the-daily-prompt/
http://myeatprayrvinglife.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/living-art-just-a-pirouette/
http://www.pghlesbian.com/2014/06/comes-to-life-are-you-kidding-me/
http://skybluewithdaisies.wordpress.com/2014/06/10/living-art-nicoletta-ceccolis-delicious-world/
http://korovieva.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/peasant-wedding-are-you-a-boy-or-a-girl/
http://rustyiam.wordpress.com/2014/06/10/dogku/
http://lovehappynotes.com/2014/06/10/whatll-i-do/
http://whenthedoorcloses2014.wordpress.com/2014/06/10/not-til-the-end/
http://purplepeninportland.wordpress.com/2014/06/10/the-night-cafe/

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

Open Letter To That Friend


( Break the Silence

When was the last time you really wanted (or needed) to say something, but kept quiet? Write a post about what you should’ve said.)

Fiction

I’m going to make this as precise and truthful as possible.
I know I should wait till situation are normal and things get cooled down. But I haven’t slept well last night and it is difficult for me to sleep well tonight either.
The scenes keep replaying in my head, every argument we had, every stupid thing you and i said. The words keep resounding in my ears, as fresh and brutal as when I heard you or myself utter them.
I don’t think you will ever understand that how much I dislike fighting. Yet half the time we fight. I hate it. Fighting with anyone. It isn’t me, and I can’t forget them. The memories just get permanently stored in my brain.
I don’t know why. I tried. I tried so hard for it to not happen. Maybe you saw it. Maybe you did not. Or maybe you didn’t think it was enough.
I don’t why you insult me every chance you get.
I don’t know why you taunt me every time.
I don’t know what I did or what I said to MAKE YOU HATE ME THIS MUCH!
This message is for you but I wanted to get these things said or written so I could relax a bit.
I tried talking to you so many times as to ask you this. Never you heeded or even acknowledged. So I had to get this mountain of things said this way.

You hate me for some reason you never said.
You take me for granted.
You insult and demean me.
You are biased. Same mistakes from others are easily forgiven and forgotten but if I do the same then it is my intention!
I don’t know how you will react after you read this. Hell I don’t know if you will even read this entirely and comprehend what I just said.
I don’t know what to expect from You after this. Mostly you will call me a desperate loser after this.
Maybe you don’t think the same. Maybe you do.
But I can’t keep up with this constant clashes.
So either you try making things better between us or ..
(PS:
There are so many things left unsaid here simply because I don’t know how to write them down.)

Let’s see what others have said about this:
http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/alert/
http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/chameleon/
No Means No!
http://cvillewinter.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/k/
http://agent909.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/break-the-silence-a-contrarian-friend/
http://mcwilson1956.wordpress.com/2014/05/23/slips-trips-and-falls-part-four/
http://tuckedintoacorner.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/the-do-over/
http://yichinglin.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/here-is-our-unspoken/
http://jitterygt.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/duct-tape-is-silver/
turn
http://sweattearsanddigitalink.com/2014/05/25/snippet-sunday-25514/
http://pippakinclawz.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/httpdailypost-wordpress-comdp_promptbreak-the-silence/
#DailyPrompt: Break the Silence
http://tomboxe.com/2014/05/25/break-the-silence/
http://dcmontreal.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/glocks-on-campus/
http://cxianliu.wordpress.com/2014/03/09/emerging-from-the-darkest-shade/
http://grver.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/is-it-worth-it-daily-prompt/
http://teepee12.com/2014/05/25/sounds-of-silence/
http://tnkerr.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/daily-prompt-break-the-silence/
http://meaningunfolding.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/break-the-silence-our-lives-are-not-our-own-sonmi/
http://mintylemony.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/the-little-boy-with-the-little-boat/
http://mesardonicmesarcastic.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/mental-truama/
http://jaynesdailypost.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/break-the-silence/
http://risingrave28.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/thoughts-and-thoughts-and-thoughts/
http://gerriblue.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/quaker/
hear ye, hear ye: i support gay parents… (any pretty much all other things “gay”)
http://suestrifles.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/breaking-the-silence-or-not/
http://dailymusing57.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/tell-it-like-it-is/
http://gryffindorky.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/how-your-voice-matters/
http://dx0330.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/break-the-silence/
Daily Prompt: Break the Silence – What Silence?
http://lovehappynotes.com/2014/05/03/a-better-life/
http://rainswritingrealm.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/break-the-silence/
http://lovehappynotes.com/2014/04/20/live-on-top/
http://marthakennedy.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/if-a-tree-falls/
http://renew2014.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/break-the-silence/
http://tyrocharm.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/165/
http://myrandomthoughts365.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/501/
http://dragoneystory.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/daily-post-break-the-silence/
http://thereyoflight.wordpress.com/2014/05/26/break-the-silence/
http://flowersandbreezes.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/break-the-silence/
http://61musings.com/2014/05/25/to-speak-or-to-suffer/
http://fatimanaeem12.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/breaking-the-silence-thoughts-of-a-not-so-fat-woman/
http://themisfitscloset.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/break-the-silence-dead-or-alive/
http://professoradrstilettorockstar.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/this-is-for-all-the-ladies/
Silence Never Broken
http://willowscottling.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/keeping-the-peace/
http://10eveningflowers.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/sunday/
What are your superpowers?
http://lovehappynotes.com/2014/05/13/stop-and-smell-the-hibiscus/
http://advocateofentropy.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/thats-not-counting-or-anything-at-all/
http://blueloft.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/speak-for-me/
http://jdhager.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/felonies/
http://learningneverstops.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/daily-prompt-break-the-silence/
http://myatheistblog.com/2014/05/25/break-the-silence-there-is-an-elephant-in-the-room-seriously/
http://bohemianstargypsy.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/muted-daily-prompt/
http://ahillbillyblogger.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/break-the-silence-wait-what/
http://eastelmhurstagogo.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/elvinko-and-katie-pie/
http://dawnmelissavlogs.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/crazy-commuters/
Can we be kind all the time? Really?
http://sweetlittlesomethingsnet.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/truth-be-told/

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

I Have Got It!


Daily Prompt:

(Pick Your Gadget

Your local electronics store has just started selling time machines, anywhere doors, and invisibility helmets. You can only afford one. Which of these do you buy, and why?

(Thanks, atana’s world!, for inspiring this prompt!))

Fiction

The mad scientist stumbled around the shop in haste, screaming at the top of his lungs “I have got it! I have got it!”

Clarice sighed. It has been this way for days. He running around and exclaiming his joy.

The stores sale had dropped drastically. Nobody buys from a store anymore. Online shopping sucks.

They have to come up with something that no website sells. Or at rates nobody offers. Both unfeasible options. Or shut down Original Electronics like every other shop on the street.

She wouldn’t be surprised if one day people sold babies and pets online too.

Something everybody wants, she thought again. Maybe its time to check what that scientist has made.

As she entered scientist’s workplace she was amazed. Everything was so organized. Nobody expected him to be organized, seeing how he hardly shaved or combed his hair. Thank god he baths, was what her boyfriend had said about him.

But as she saw now, she could see loads of stuff. And there was a robot coming towards her.

“Shit!” She exclaimed. From where did he get the money to make robots. And that robot looks like…. She couldn’t place it, but familiar it looked.

And then there was a gush of wind which blew her hair astray. She looked back and saw the scientist closing a door. A door which was never there initially, or even a month ago when she rented the place to him.

“You made another door?!” She shouted at him.

“Door? Of course I made it. What do you think I was so happily about? Yes yes I am so happy. What is that you ask?”

She didn’t ask. But conversation with him always were like this.

“Oh it is the best thing I have made this week. This week yes yes. Brand new! It was such a headache to make this one. I didn’t sleep or take a bath in last three days. No no I didn’t.”

There you go boyfriend, she thought.

“And you will be surprised. Where do you want to go?”

“What kind of question is that? And how is it even related?”

“Bear with me. Bear. Tell me where do you want to go? Tell me, tell me tell me…”

“Okay okay. Say I want to go to the…my home. My home.”

Scientist looked disappointed with her answer. But in a moment he was again superfluous with his, um, invention.

“Okay okay. You think of your house and walk through that door.”

She hesitated but then figured might as well she what happens. And with him on her heels, she walked in through the door.

And into her house.

She stopped dead in her tracks and he hit her from behind. How is this possible?! Her house is half way across town.

He became his own self again. He started screaming again “I did it! I did it!” And ran through the house. Meanwhile she stood there trying to process of what just happened.

She couldn’t understand. How! How! HOW!

He came around running to her and she caught him, stopping him in his path.

“WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!”

He chuckled but sobered when he saw her expression. He cleared his throat, tried to sort out his hair.

“I made it. I call it a Door to Anywhere!” He looked at her expectedly but she didn’t reply. He continued “It is so simple. Simple. You think of where you want to go, walk through the door and you reach there on the same day within moments. Isn’t it amazing?”

Clarice stood dumbfounded. It can’t be possible, it must be a dream. She thought. She slapped herself just to be sure. The Slap hurt but she realized that this is her reality.

He didn’t stop talking. “… and I have made so many things. I made a inexhaustible battery. I made a sticky gloves. I made a helmet that will make you invisible! And wait this is the best…..I made a TIME MACHINE!”

THIS CANNOT BE POSSIBLE.

A month ago this crazy looking scientists begged her for a place for his workshop. And now he could make things like these. She no longer was dubious of his claims, she had a proof of that herself.

“There is just one problem. Once you leave through this door and close it, there is no going back” He looked ashamed of this. Clarice couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. She kissed him there, and the look on his face made it even more funnier for her.

She now had an idea. And she was sure this will work.

Who wouldn’t want a cellphone which never has to be charged?

Who doesn’t have regrets? Who doesn’t want to change their past?

Who doesn’t want to disappear? Leave their life back and start again?

And now she had what she wanted.

Let’s see what others have written:
Split Personality
http://dragoneystory.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/daily-prompt-pick-your-gadget/
http://itsmatthewburgos.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/rush-of-excitement-daily-prompt/
http://jitterygt.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/11630/
Pick Your Gadget
http://tuckedintoacorner.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/its-an-investment-i-think/
http://randommstuffblah.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/my-anywhere-door/
http://thediaryofaquirkyteenager.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/httpdailypost-wordpress-comdp_promptpick-your-gadget/
http://jeffctrnews.com/2014/05/21/testing/
http://seikaiha.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/daily-prompt-pick-your-gadget/
http://underthemonkeytree.com/2014/05/21/you-are-now-here/
http://marthakennedy.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/4258/
http://tnkerr.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/daily-prompt-pick-your-gadget/
http://rjjainrahul97.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/why-pick-one-when-you-can-get-all-three/
http://advocateofentropy.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/so-there-is-this-new-store-in-the-neighbourhood/
http://marthakennedy.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/the-future-is-now/
http://haiverer.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/pick-your-gadget/
http://aportiaadamsadventure.com/2014/05/21/daily-prompt-pick-your-gadget/
http://activearmywife.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/open/
http://agent909.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/pick-your-gadget-travel-back-to-the-past-gadget-we-have-now/
http://kansamuse.me/2014/05/21/dokodemo-door/
http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/05/10/driven/
http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/04/28/subliminal/
http://trekkismoen.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/the-invisibility-helmet-nature-vs-street-photography/
http://trekkismoen.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/the-invisibility-helmet-nature-vs-street-photography/
http://meanderedwanderings.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/traveling-through-time-at-88-mph/
http://grver.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/pick-your-gadget-daily-prompt/
http://trekkismoen.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/the-invisibility-helmet/
http://monicleblog.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/daily-prompt-pick-your-gadget/
http://pippakinclawz.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/httpdailypost-wordpress-comdp_promptpick-your-gadget/
http://suestrifles.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/my-blogging-goals-revisited/
http://escaparse.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/pick-your-gadget/
http://professoradrstilettorockstar.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/bye-bye-traffic-heelllllo-world/
http://renew2014.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/pick-your-gadget/
http://annelfwind.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/anywhere-doors/
http://themisfitscloset.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/the-anywhere-door-2-0/
http://ahillbillyblogger.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/my-new-gadget/
http://rainswritingrealm.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/magic-madness-and-good-times/
http://starrytraveler.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/how-to-pick-my-gadget/
http://www.maggiemayq.com/2014/05/21/pick-your-gadget/
http://thelandslidephotography.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/could-i-place-an-order/
http://thatssophie.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/daily-post-pick-your-gadget/
http://peeksi.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/loves-time-machine-would-you-want-to-see-if-it-ends/
TIMING OUT TO ELSEWHEN
http://remindyourmind.org/2014/05/21/a-dream-machine/
Daily Prompt: Pick Your Gadget but make your own decision.
The Anywhere Door
http://lindaswritingblog.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/the-door-to-anywhere/
http://jaynesdailypost.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/pick-your-gadget/
http://thereyoflight.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/pick-your-gadget/
http://bobbeck1600.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/daily-prompt-pick-your-gadget/
http://flowersandbreezes.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/see-you/
http://masalaandblarney.com/2014/05/21/daily-post-pick-your-gadget/
http://tyrocharm.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/restless-explorers/
http://lifeisgreat0.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/anywhere-door/
http://mitraarchita1995.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/lets-teleport/
http://chronicalsman.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/clash-of-the-gadgets/
Time Flies
http://imagineimmortality.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/the-door-to-anywhere/
http://kate0murray.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/second-door-to-the-left-and-straight-on-till-morning/
http://idleandboredtwo.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/daily-prompt-a-door-to-anywhere/
http://randomlyrandomthoughts365.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/pick-your-gadget-a-tough-decision/
http://allthingscuteandbeautiful.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/daily-prompt-being-futuristic-2/
http://cateritforward.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/tomorrow-is-a-new-day-2/
http://tornin2.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/its-not-just-any-door/
http://jackiesworldtravel.com/2014/05/21/bunratty-castle/
Where To, Miss?
http://silentlyheardonce.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/4628/
http://learningneverstops.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/daily-prompt-pick-your-gadget/
http://halfwayamazing.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/anywhere-doors/
http://srollinson7.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/were-not-in-kansas-anymore/
http://bmauritz.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/dr-who-sales-me-the-latest-greatest/
http://teezywrites.com/2014/05/21/i-can-only-pick-one/
http://basicallybeyondbasic.com/2014/05/21/daily-prompt-pick-your-gadget/
http://singingaboutsinatra.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/as-time-goes-by/
http://chancefroese.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/time-machines/
http://lazymoan.com/2014/05/21/319/
http://thelocallens.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/4572/
http://abrbook.com/2014/05/22/the-mind-is-the-thing/
http://jedsplayhouse.com/2014/05/21/the-fun-is-inevitable/
http://goinroguedotnet.com/2014/05/21/pick-your-gadget/
Anywhere Door, I’ll Take That, Please
http://myauthoritis.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/i-choose-all-three/
http://eastelmhurstagogo.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/anyway-anyhow-anywhere-i-choose/
http://pathdiscoveries.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/anywhere-doors-wait-they-make-those/
http://timbaldwin313.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/daily-prompt-pick-your-gadget/
http://jessemholmes.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/daily-prompt-pick-your-gadget/
http://blog.ryding2health.com/2014/05/22/harry-potter-style-fantasy-gadgets-which-would-you-buy/
https://itsmayurremember.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/that-night/
http://noririn148.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/daily-prompt-pick-your-gadget/
http://loindezanzibar.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/un-petit-voyage-dans-le-temps/
http://noririn148.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/daily-prompt-pick-your-gadget/
http://littlellost.com/2014/05/22/breakfast-at-tiffanys/
http://jcm3blog.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/choices-choices-2/
http://ghwordforge.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/teleport-vs-time-travel-vs-invisibility-implications/
http://asqueezeofbliss.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/gateway-to-happiness/
http://tiffanymetzger.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/pick-your-gadget-daily-prompt/
http://angelocrux.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/dofp-review/
http://ollienumberseven.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/237/
http://rheyofsunshine.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/pick-your-gadget-anywhere-door-a-la-doraemons/
http://fabulouswitfeyz.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/daily-prompt-pick-your-gadget/

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

You’re Beautiful,….


Daily Prompt

(Great Expectations

Tell us about one thing (or more) that you promised yourself you’d accomplish by the end of the year. How would you feel once you do? What if you don’t?)

Writing Challenge

(

The Setting’s the ThingToday, we challenge you to create a compelling setting for your story.)

Fiction

(Daily Prompt: Always Something There to Remind Me

It is 31st December 2011.

Harry sat and asked for another beer.

“That’s your fifth. What’s the occasion?” The bartender replied with a grin.

Someone said it right, a bartender is the best kind of priest for confession. But harry wasn’t here for confession. His obsession had brought him here.

A year ago he attended his office’s New Year’s Eve bash. He had fun. He drank, joked, laughed and occasionally flirted with every girl that could consciously move.

And then he saw her.

She was one of the best girls he saw. Brunette, hair tied behind her head in a bun, still dressed in her office clothes she walked in. Her round face and tiny eyes, which even from far he saw were blue. A smile slowly spread across her face as he interacted with others, and he saw that smiling came easy to her. Her smile had an exuberance he never saw before in anyone before.

And she had dimples in which he could dive and lay forever.

And she noticed him gawking at her.

As he came near, a whisper escaped his throat. Then words. Then he sang when she could hear him.

You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.
You’re beautiful, it’s true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don’t know what to do,

She laughed again and it only made him groan.

She heard something and turned away, completely ignoring him. And then disappeared in another man’s embrace.
They kissed.

And a fire burned in Harry’s chest. Heat so intense that it brought tears to his eyes. He left before the new year countdown begin.

He tried to forget her. He honestly did.

At first he assumed that he will forget her with time; after all he didn’t even know her name. But he saw her everywhere. Every female colleague looked like her, every cute smile had dimples, every tied hair like her.

And yet none were hers.

He couldn’t get her out of his head. Her face was ingrained in his brain. He drank to forget her. He tried dating other girls but none were interesting any more.

He cursed himself for this stupid obsession. ‘What’s wrong with me?’ he asked repeatedly.

Every couple was a reminder of them. And he felt bitter and jealous towards everyone of them. He knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t know how.

And sometime in April he understood. He ran the party but he couldn’t leave. Somehow he had made a decision to talk to that girl. Somehow his new years resolution included that girl. His new years resolution was that girl.

And he didn’t even know her name.

May. He found out her name.

Janice. Janice Price soon to be Janice Price-Quentin.

She was engaged now. And he broke his phone when he got that news.

He tried again to move on. It took a bitter turn now, self destructive now. Drugs and alcohol. Nothing helped.

Months passed and he couldn’t help himself from finding more and more about her.

And now, a year later he sat in the bar, cursing himself. Tired of this jealously. Tired of his obsession. Even a psychiatrist couldn’t help him.

His resolution was never meant to be achieved, he understood now. Just a regret.

December 31,2011. Some one played the radio and the song turned to “You are beautiful”. He sighed. No use pretending now, and began to sing the song.

And his eyes fell on the mirror behind the bartender. And there he saw Janice.

First he assumed that it is just his hallucination. But then he became sure it was her. Sitting alone. Checking her phone.

He didn’t move. He saw her, observed her. He doesn’t know or understand why but now he did not want to go and talk with her. He just wanted to see.

And James Blunt sang “You are beautiful.”

Harry said “It’s true.”

Let’s see what other have written in daily prompt:
http://dragoneystory.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/daily-prompt-great-expectations/
http://jitterygt.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/writing-a-short-story-everyday/
http://dreamsofaphoenix.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/a-great-puzzling-expectation/
http://grver.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/great-expectations-daily-prompt/
http://suestrifles.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/mixed-progress-in-achieving-my-targets/
http://itsmatthewburgos.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/filled-with-stories-daily-prompt/
http://underthemonkeytree.com/2014/05/20/get-me-out-of-here/
http://agent909.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/great-expectations-reviewing-the-progress-of-years-end-target/
http://bobbeck1600.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/daily-prompt-great-expectations/
http://allthingscuteandbeautiful.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/daily-prompt-being-accomplishing/
http://tuckedintoacorner.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/expectation-the-occasional-barrier/
http://www.maggiemayq.com/2014/05/20/great-expectations/
http://mumbaimornings.com/2013/05/09/aptly-named-alarm-clock/
http://kansamuse.me/2014/05/20/one-day-at-a-time-2/
http://themasculinepen.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/daily-prompt-memo-to-self/
http://rjjainrahul97.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/daily-post-great-expectations/
http://tnkerr.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/daily-prompt-great-expectations/
http://seikaiha.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/daily-prompt-great-expectations-and-a-new-online-course-on-tolkien/
http://nopageleftblank.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/great-expectations/
http://haiverer.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/great-expectations/
http://chronicalsman.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/my-own-misfortunate-chain-of-expectations/
http://awlscribe.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/daily-prompt-great-expectations/
http://kate0murray.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/future-expectations/
http://trifectaexecutivecoach.com/2014/05/20/httpdailypost-wordpress-comdp_promptgreat-expectations/
http://psychologistmimi.com/2014/05/20/bathe-in-truth-cream/
http://wannabepoet.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/great-expectations-a-huge-disappointment/
http://flowersandbreezes.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/at-the-end-of-day/
http://idleandboredtwo.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/great-expectations/
http://planitjanet.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/great-expectations/
http://pippakinclawz.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/httpdailypost-wordpress-comdp_promptgreat-expectations/
http://angloswiss-chronicles.com/2014/05/20/daily-prompt-the-great-expectations-of-a-golden-oldie/
http://sweattearsanddigitalink.com/2014/05/20/great-expectations-for-2014/
http://chaitalibhattacharjee7.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/great-expectations/
http://mesardonicmesarcastic.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/expectations-of-my-imaginations/
http://www.pghlesbian.com/2014/05/take-part-in-the-lgbtqa-2014-pride-edition/
http://meanderedwanderings.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/heading-in-the-right-direction-more-or-less/
http://angelocrux.wordpress.com/2014/04/02/30-before-30/

 

http://angelocrux.wordpress.com/2014/04/02/of-mountains-and-goals/
http://professoradrstilettorockstar.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/pizza-my-heart/
http://professoradrstilettorockstar.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/pizza-my-heart/
http://fabulouswitfeyz.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/daily-post-great-expectations/
http://ahillbillyblogger.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/great-expectations/
VITAL ORGANS WILL PLEASE REMAIN VITAL
http://lifeisgreat0.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/just-keep-swimming/
http://atrulymovingstory.wordpress.com/2014/04/16/a-germ-of-an-idea/
http://mauldinfamily1.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/the-daily-post-great-expectations/
http://rainswritingrealm.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/daily-prompt-great-expectations/
http://rheyofsunshine.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/great-expectation-a-healthy-mind-body-and-soul/
http://notapunkrocker.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/five-months-into-the-year/
http://angryfishrants.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/dailypost-great-expectations/
http://renew2014.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/failed-resolutions/
http://willowscottling.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/to-a-mouse/
http://marthakennedy.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/the-line-tight-or-slack/
http://lifeofloww.com/2014/05/20/great-expectations-prioritize-love/
http://whoison1st.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/champagne-wishes-caviar-dreams/
http://jackiesworldtravel.com/2014/05/20/czech-republic-affordable-and-worth-it/
http://ennismismith.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/following-through-on-the-promises/
http://thebohemianrockstarpresents.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/bachelors-or-bust/
http://divyaprakashsrivastava98.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/181/
http://jessemholmes.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/41/
http://gerriblue.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/month-1-check/
http://anauthorandwriterinprogress.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/holy-great-expectations-a-daily-prompt-post/
http://schattenengel.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/a-levels-i-am-coming/
http://purvakalra5.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/new-year-resolutions/
http://myrandomthoughts365.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/great-expectations/
http://jaynesdailypost.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/great-expectations-2/
http://vivhtaylor.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/passion-into-profession/
http://learningneverstops.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/daily-prompt-great-expeectations/