This isn’t exactly sunrise, I think the time was 10am. But I think this fits Rise.
Also, I took this with my friends’ DSLR when we were walking Tongariro Alpine Crossing.
‘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.
‘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!
‘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.
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.
“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.
What is smell but a trap?
Scented flower buds attract
Killing bees and insects
Unscented buds die hungry.
I have no idea why I tried this, but if you want to give feedback please feel free to do so. I would like to know what you think: even if you say this is crap! Thanks
‘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.
I couldn’t place replacement anywhere in the post.
Nothing bad can ever come here. Last night’s events were not oversight, but they were a result of complacency. How else can three vampires just waltz into Wolf town?
Wolf town is the holy land for all kinds of wolfs all over the world. Werewolves, direwolves, siberian wolves and so on. Sometimes even Huskies are welcome here because predators have hearts too. Huskies are nothing but little lost children of wolves were they not?
It was considered common knowledge that no wolf will ever have to fight for his or her life here in Wolf Town. They can yap and howl all night long with their mates and bros but not get killed. Vampires and ghouls respected this knowledge and wolves territories. They emulated Wolf town a couple of centuries ago and created their own towns.
The names of their towns were alluding as compared to the simple Wolf town. Vampires called their home Bloodhaven and ghouls just called it Brains. Zombies tried to sue ghouls over the town name but no court wanted to have a huge racial dispute on its hand.
Zombies could not settle this the old fashion way, after all attack on one town will lead to an overall attack on all homes. Eventually Zombies called their home “Grrr!” as it was easy for them to say it.
“Where will you go now mate?”
The vampires were left on poles exposed to sunlight. They withered and squealed against the sunlight but eventually all of them died. Sunlight gave vampires the most excruciating deaths and after last night’s atrocity they deserved it. But the old wolves of the pack were wary of such a public execution.
“Let’s kill them quietly and then feast on them!”
“They have no blood inside them! Feast on old festered organs?!”
“Well we can always bury them and wait for them to turn to bones!”
“Bones?!” the Husky exclaimed.
Others saw their child and were ashamed. One by one they howled and the Husky joined their howls. The elders were proud of the Husky’s howl though.
The vampired walked towards Wolf town’s square and faced the decayed bodies of the three dead. Wolves all over the town had heard of the new fang in town but he kept waving a white flag as a sign of surrender.
He also had a couple of balls which distracted everyone: elder and young pups.
“You should stop throwing those balls.”
“Your kind is so easy to distract”
“But we don’t attack unless offended”
“True. I would like offer my kinds’ sincerest apologies.”
“The vampires almost killed three wolves and ate one pup”
“And you killed them. Vengeance is dish best served cold”
“Your kind is cold already, they need to lighten up”
The vampire looked down at the old wolf standing next to his hip for a few seconds before laughing aloud. He kept laughing as more wolf heads tilted seeing his strange reaction. He stopped eventually.
“I offer truce. These deaths were apt, and my kind could not have given them a better punishment. As for compensation, we are ready to offer heaps of tennis balls, bones and half of our prey for a month. Let your mouths feast on succulent human flesh so that you will not have to hunt.”
The elder wolf waited and thought about the offer hoping there was no oversight. But wolf are after all parents of Huskies, they trusted very easily.
Thank you so much for reading. Comment below to let me know what you thought about it.
‘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.’
‘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.
‘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.’
‘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.
‘How could no one seen a thing?!’ Lieutenant Copper exploded.
The two sergeants in front of Copper had never heard their lieutenant speak like this. Copper was a nimble man, full of courtesy and diplomacy. No other man had stayed in charge for as long as Copper has and that is because of how he speaks. The masked surface was under attack now as there was a new kind of trouble on the streets.
According to him at least there is a new trouble.
‘Tell me what do the witnesses tell us?’ Copper asked again, regaining some of his cool demeanor back.
‘Sir, most of the victims or witnesses, as you put it, say that the train was under attack. There was a metal-tentacled man who killed off the driver and then screwed up the controls. They say they don’t know how the vigilante stopped the train but they are glad that he did.’ Sergent Jones iterated.
Copper nodded, his face focused on the statement. He wanted to find a flaw in the witness statement but there was none. Sargent Jones and Sargent Hunter have been over the witness statements a couple of times.
No one said anything out of the ordinary. No one had seen or heard anything to further their investigation about the vigilante. This troubled Copper, this vigilante’s face was one of the most sought after thing currently in the city.
Never mind the metal tentacled man, or his predecessor the green suited-air gliding man or any of the other menace lurking in the city. Copper’s concern was to stop the vigilannte first and then worry about the other menace.
No lone ranger in my city
The entire thing was bizarre enough until a couple of months ago a witness said they had seen this vigilante. The witness hadn’t seen the face properly but he was sure of one thing: this vigilante did not wear a mask.
No mask! The vigilante was saving the city for months now and yet no one had come forward with any information as to what this vigilante looked like? Was he a blonde? A Caucasian guy or an African-American guy?
The answers were out there, amongst the people he had saved but no one ever ventured any information about this vigilante. The train attack was the biggest break the police ever had with the vigilante.
Yet no one has seen his face.
‘Alright, go out again. I want you to canvas the area, find me someone who can tell me if this vigilante is a kid, an adult or a 70 year old veteran. Find me something until I call the Mayor and ask him a favor.’ Copper paused contemplating telling his sargents about the favor. He decided he could trust them both.
‘I would beg him to declare a reward on testimonials about this vigilante. He cannot be unseen after doing so many things.’
Thank you for reading, let me know what you think about it.
The smell clung to his self. He could never wash it out, no matter how many times he tried to wash his clothes. He tried to eradicate it out of his self by trying different techniques, by using the ways of his victims.
He traded perfumes from some of the best manufacturers of the world. They asked him just before their end what did he want. He told them. They laughed and then he joined their laughter.
After hearing him laugh, all the blood had drained from their face. They hurried to bring him perfumes, the costliest ones and the strongest ones. He used them and went out, leaving his victims to live another day.
Literally another day.
Cause he would come back the very next day, angry that the perfume did not work. They would beg more but he would not relent, not this time. You can always make one deal and when you break it, there is no going back. He never regretted doing his job.
In fact he loved his job. He got to travel all around the world. He could go to a country of peace, a country of war and a country barricaded against all of the world. He would sneak in, finish his mission and get out before anyone can notice what had happened.
They would notice after his work is done. That surprise on their faces would always amuse him and he would laugh. His laughter would be silent this time, for no one should hear him laugh.
Regardless of how much he loved his work, it was after all just his day job. The demands of the work impacted his physical appearance and it affected his odor. He cannot take it anymore, the bad odor oozing from his own self. He could smell the lifelessness from his victims radiating from him.
He hated that. Not only did he have to deal with other’s demise but also he had to carry their odor with him.
Once, he met a great tailor who bartered for a new dresscode. He agreed hopeful for the smell to cease. It did, for a day and then the fabric could no longer contain.
It was like a dam had broken and the smell just burst forth. He had killed one person by that smell alone. He went back to the tailor again and he finished his mission. It was the last barter he ever made.
Now, whenever the mission calls he gets up. He looks at his own image in the mirror. The face was barely recognizable anymore, his cheekbones looked ghastly. He tried to find his eyes but he couldn’t help but stare into the abyss.
The job had taken too much from him. Now, there was no way to stop.
He grabbed his cowl, put it on and grabbed his scythe. He had missions to complete.
The light that shines brightest burns fastest
Chanakya kept thinking of the line in his mind since morning. He was scared. He had played his hand and now his gamble might backfire on him.
Definitely result in some firing.
He had no choice but to put one foot after another. He had to pretend that everything’s normal, that his organization was not about to fall flat on its face.
So he made his breakfast, played his favorite Beethoven and sat in silence. Before he started eating, he picked a pinch of salt with his fingers and sprinkled it on his omelette. He looked up at the wall opposite his seat, at the clock.
Only half an hour more. He sighed and started eating, the knife sliding smoothly cutting the omelet into pieces. He had about 35 minutes of freedom today before the police barges in, according to his estimation.
He was counting on it, the evidence he had dropped in the police station would be opened soon. Police will take 10-15 minutes to reach his evidence and a few more minutes for Judge’s arrest warrant to process.
10:30 am he would be walking out of his own home in cuffs.
He had no other choice. The only consolation for him was he won’t be the only one walking out of his home in cuffs. Chanakya had made sure that when he falls his competitors would also be falling down. The evidence would implicate Swami as well. This will make sure after the arrests, there would no rival families lunging for one another’s throats.
No turf wars. No war on the streets. Not until their sons grow up, which was still 10 years away.
10 years of peace.
Chanakya tried to squash the tiny shimmer of hope burning in his home. The Police had enough evidence to arrest him, he had given them evidence to arrest Swami. Why would his heart still think that the police spare him?
Because of the 10 million I dropped off at the inspector’s house.
It was hopeless though, the inspector’s reputation preceded him. Truthful and idealistic. He would use the money to implicate Chanakya even further.
He stopped eating, the last two pieces of the omelet looked unappetizing now. They looked dry. He was no longer hungry.
His breathing rate was rising, heart was beating faster.
Everything has ended.
He put his head down on the table and started crying.
An hour later he watched Police arrest Swami on the news. Not so ideal now inspector.
He is shining bright, but he won’t be burning out today.
Thank you for reading!
‘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!
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‘
(Daily Prompt : Born To Be With You
Not completely related but I found some connection so I am putting this in connection)
Literary Lion: Eye
(I’m being lazy by not writing another post but I already have written this!)
I saw you in train, I was soaked from the rains. I couldn’t see your face. Your niqab covered your face. But I saw your eyes. All I saw was your eyes. Those soft round eyes surrounded by chalk white skin. Some mascara maybe. The deep black irises. I don’t think i have been so enthralled by eyes ever before.
I kept looking, occasionally realizing that I have to look somewhere else. I don’t know if you noticed my stare, because if you did then I would have been bitten senseless in the train. I don’t know how your face looked, I couldn’t hear your voice but I saw your eyes and for me that was enough. Black as a moonless night, I don’t know if iris are ever this black. I stared because there was something about them, I know it was wrong.
I don’t think you noticed anybody in the train. For you were enthralled by your boyfriend on who’s shoulder you kept your head. And he kept talking, his voice getting louder as if he spoke with the entire compartment and not just you. I would have kept quiet and stared. Stared at something so small and so immensely beautiful.
I don’t think I’ll meet you again. I won’t remember you either in a week.
And I went home, forlorn, listening to James Blunt sing ‘You’re beautiful ’
Check out other people’s responses :
Born To Be With You
Born to be with You: Daily Post
Love Crime, Acts of Love, and wacky love bits: this week’s weird news
Born to Be With You
and the Kitchen Sync
LOVING SWEET HAZEL
“Born to Be With You”
My Boyfriend Should be the Music Blogger: #NaBloPoMo/#DailyPost
Why Do You Like Her/Him?
Literary lion responses:
Literary Lion : In his mind’s eye
Apple of Her Eye
Literary Lion – Watcher
( Green-Eyed Lady
We all get jealous from time to time — what wakes the green-eyed monster for you?)
Jealousy is relatively easy to talk about. And social networking doesn’t exactly truncate jealousy. The usual things like hanging out, missing out or not having enough money or opportunity does and make almost everyone jealous. And relationships. Definitely.
But I’m not gonna talk about jealousy.
Its not jealousy. No that’s the wrong word.
I compare my life with others. Subconsciously. Autonomously.
Recently I discovered love of having honest conversations with people. Real people. People who would open up and talk about themselves and talk about the things that matter.
And the more I do that, more stories I gather.
People and their stories are amazing. Some climbed to Everest and same people trip a lot. Some stupid people haven’t been to Marine drive even after staying in Mumbai for twenty years. Though I don’t blame them, I know the feeling. Some can’t stop talking about their hometown.
They talk about everything. Family problems. Issues with friends. Professors. And the usual suspects.
People I met on blog are no less. The stories I read here torment the heart, soothe the heart. Make me laugh and make me cry. Some fascinate and some I can’t read more than five words because well I can’t understand what’s been written.
Yesterday when talking about the most embarrassing things which happened to us, I had none. Nada. Zip.
And that’s my usual answer to many things. I have to pick my brains for a long time and most of the times my stories are so puny. So inadequate.
And that’s funny because I basically write stories for hobby! I should be able to voice a past experience as a great story shouldn’t I?
A few years ago this would depress me. Sadden me because I would have felt I haven’t achieved much. Haven’t done anything.
And this is wrong isn’t it? I am supposed to say bravo and wow to their stories ain’t I?
Maybe someday I will stop feeling inadequate when I compare myself to others. But if that happens then I won’t push myself for something new either.
Guess I don’t have the answer to that one.
Let’s see what others have written:
Write a review of your life — or the life of someone close to you — as if it were a movie or a book.)
While having lunch, someone posed the question ‘Where would we be five ten years from now?’
None of us could answer, but that got me thinking.
If the Mayur of 2011 would meet the Mayur of 2015, he would neither recognize nor believe that this is what the next four years of college would hold for him.
I was shy. Unfriendly, friendless, alone and yes scared. To come to a college that resided in a society that’s way above my normal social standards! I still remember the gooseflesh I had on the very first day, I reached college at around 7.30 am for a 8 am lecture. I met my first classmate that day.
The college magazine photoshoot took place the other day. There is my class! All of us grinning, happy for this photo of our class that we would always have(I would!)
I imagined sitting in my class/lab 306 and bantering. Laughing. Writing assignments. Cursing and laughing again. And then thought about what will we do tomorrow.
And it hit me, maybe tomorrow(literal sense) we won’t be in that lab.
And I realized that day, the college is just a step away from being ‘Present’ to being ‘Past’. That ‘I am going to college’ would soon become ‘I was going to college’. The imminent end is here.
Coming to Dadar I met a senior. Passed out last year she is looking for a new job. She hates it. She misses college. She misses the routine of college.
Okay, here it goes:
If I could sum up my college experience it’s this: The people I met here. Its my parents who pushed me to come here, my brother who supported me.
The memories I shared with you all, some made digital, some forever lost in the grooves of my head.
YOU MADE ME REACH HERE!
EITHER BY SUPPORTING ME, or by enraging me.
I ate with you or most probably I ravaged your lunch.
I laughed with you. I laughed on you, you laughed on me. I teased you, you teased me back.
I sang with you, I danced with you.
I consoled you when you were down. You consoled me when I was down.
I never refused to help you when you asked, I never stopped begging for help because half the times I was helpless.
Most importantly I spoke with you. Had lengthy or transiting conversations with you. I got to know you. Glad that I got to know you.
My college is you:
EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU.
Even if I just say hi to you while walking on the stairs, I’ll remember you.
I’ll remember the one liners you spoke, I’ll remember the hi fives and the bear hugs.
I’ll remember the times I laughed so hard my stomach ached.
I’ll remember the times I got so angry on you that I wanted to just kill you.
I’ll remember the fights I had with you. I’ll remember the fights we watched happening and wished we had popcorn.
I’ll remember you.
So if a long time from now we meet, I’ll grin in recognition because you mattered.
Thank you for all the memories. Thank you for the lessons both taught wittingly and unwittingly.
I’m not good with changes, never liked goodbyes.
Maybe I’ll lose contact, but you have my email, you know me on Facebook. Contact me, I’ll reply.
I’ll be happy to.
I’ll miss this routine.
I’ll miss the familiarity.
I’ll miss you.
Thank you for the four years. I’m glad I got the experience.
While everyone keeps saying and tagging their pictures #onelasttime I would rather say #TillNextTime
Thanks For Reading
Let’s see what others have written:
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.)
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.
Thanks For Reading
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!))
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:
Pick Your Gadget
TIMING OUT TO ELSEWHEN
Daily Prompt: Pick Your Gadget but make your own decision.
The Anywhere Door
Where To, Miss?
Anywhere Door, I’ll Take That, Please
Thanks For Reading
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!))
Like three and half or more years ago I was walking my dog. My dog was still a pup then and he used to play a lot, running around the house like a lunatic, biting and chewing down every thing he could grab on with his mouth. He was full of energy and at that time(and till today and maybe forever) I called him my most prized possession.
But this isn’t about my dog. That day I saw something that is seared into my memory, still today burning hot.
I saw a swaying, speeding car coming down the road. I couldn’t see who was behind the wheel but my brain always fit there a youngster. Always.
I saw that car speeding and then running over a pup. A small pup that you could hold in your palm. Who looked like my dog. I still remember the whimper that escaped my throat when I saw that. I don’t know whether the pup had time to make a grasp or sound of pain.
All I saw was the pup, a second ago like any other stray pup, now no more then a inanimate body.
It took a second for me to turn and shout that bastard driver to stop. I would have hit him, fought with him if he would have stopped the car. He didn’t stop.
But in that one second I saw the scene repeat in my memory a thousand times. I imagined the look of pain in that pups face. I know that isn’t possible but I saw it. And every replay of gruesome scene made it more filled with anguish.
But nothing could have prepared me for what came next.
I saw the pups mother(I think so) come running. And the mere sight broke me. And then she howled. She barked. She nudged the body with her nose, trying to wake him up.
She seemed like crying. It was like a scene of a funeral. I may be imagining this but I could understand the raw cries of mourning there.
The mother turned in circles, barked at every moving human as if demanding answers, demanding explanation for what had happened to her pup.
I moved the dead and brought it to the side of the road. My dog was also curious to what happened.
I want a time machine. I want to go back to that night. I want to pick that pup before he is run over. I want to hit that guy senseless before he gets into his car.
I don’t care how it changes things. I don’t care about anything else, I just want to go back to that day and change it.
IT DOESN’T MATTER IF IT WAS A DOG. SOME ONE SO YOUNG DOESN’T DESERVE TO DIE LIKE THAT. LET IT BE A HUMAN, DOG, OR CAT. ANY LIVING BEING.
Life is life. No matter in any form.
Continue reading “That Night….”
(In response to Daily Prompt)
Tell us about times in which you linger — when you don’t want an event, or a day to end. What is it you love about these times?
My usual response would be I want happiness to linger. After all, my first blog was on the same topic.
But that is too broad.
Just a few days ago, while heading to college I met a big Husky. I played with it, scratched him behind his ears while the dog jumped and tried to lick my face.
And later it went about to his daily morning routine. Abruptly. And I just stood there.
I’m not saying that he shouldn’t have. I can pet any other dog, I have my own dog for that matter. But when you are having a really bad morning, you are tensed about your day and at that time the Husky or any other dog can make you forget about it. I forgot all about my bad morning. That day I entered college smiling a big grin.
I want those moments to linger.
Me and my friends met. In our lunch break we ate our lunch, cracked some jokes and went about to our own business. Some of my friends I met after a year, and though the conversation was a little too formal, I want those meetings to happen.
I want those moments to linger.
I read a post a day ago. While the entire post was heart breaking, the particular part where the author describes his father’s plight(My prayers for him) had an impact. And suddenly my problems seem too small.
I feel humbled, inspired even, there was a sudden determination in me to tackle my own problems knowing that someone, somewhere is facing worse. That gives me a much needed push.
Another post, he wrote about at the end that he looked at the stars and realized how trifling his matters are(I think I am interpreting it correctly).
I felt the same at my Camp whenever I looked up at the night sky.
I even wrote a poem about it.
“Oh stars in night sky,
They look above like firefly.
These tiny dots,really are as big as they can be;
But they let the moon give light see.
And as hard as counting stars is,
More is to get the creation of His.
And the sad part now, I can’t see them up above.
And if I have to travel for hours I will,
Coz the night is full of tiny lights;
And we forget how bright the little lights shine!”
I want those moments to linger.
( I am not saying that somebody should be faced with a fatal problem)
What am I saying?
It is this. Sometimes life seems too difficult, too boring and full of despair. But I know there is going to be something at the end to make me happy, something for me to push forward. When I met that moment, whether a dog, a person or another person story(Nick Vujicic) I get inspired.
I get humbled.
I get hope.
I get joy(Depending upon the moment)
I want those moments to last. To linger.
(P.S if I have offended anybody then I’m sorry.)