PS: If anyone has any suggestions on adding watermarks or copyright to lots of images, let me know!
I was out on a hike at Duder Regional Park, East Auckland. The place was great for oceanic/peninsular pictures. Here is one of them.
I walked with 60 people who were behind me. This peninsula is one of the Pā (a fortified site) in the region. As we sat for lunch, most people sat under the shades. I explored and found that the acoustics of the region creates a perfect barrier and I enjoyed some perfect silence even being five feet away from 60 hikers.
I took this photo a long time ago as I was walking to work with my Huawei Y5 phone camera. Spring time meant a lot of flowers and this one was great, a perfect flower growth. Check out Daily Post for the prompt.
(My plan was not to write stream of continued stories but now with the help of daily prompt, I am going to try writing them. First story in the series: Glitter)
‘Firde!!!’ the Slurred Cat screamed.
‘Wait what did he scream? Did he say fire?’ Maddy asked.
Before One Eyed Solomon could reply, they heard the gush of fire. If you have never heard fire being sprayed like water from a water hose; it sounds exactly like water. No one can actually make a differentiation between the two unless they see the spray is either fire or water.
Maddy looked and found that from the base of the cave, a stream of fire was being poured out. Only…
‘Is it just me or that fire is too small?’
‘How can fire be small Maddy?’
Solomon looked as well. None of the two were in any immediate danger of being fired upon as they were on the opposite direction and quite far from the cave.
‘Yes you are write. It is almost like that fire is coming from a small mouth.’
‘Small jaw sir. It is a reptile.’
‘Shut up Maddy. Think about what we are going to do next?’
The spray of fire stopped abruptly as it had appeared. Screams from the burned victims could be heard now. The two men had their eyes glued to the entrance of the cave and they were waiting to see what would happen.
‘Is ith gone?’ Slurred Cat asked standing directly behind them.
‘I don’th know.’ Maddy said and immediately received a glower from Solomon.
They got their answer soon as the dragon came out of the cave. The dragon was green scaled and small almost the size of a human when crawling. It was definitely a infant still.
‘So the dragon inside gave birth to a small dragon. Are you sure you want the gold inside which is slick with dragon fluids?’ Maddy asked.
‘Shut up. You have not heard the story have you? Three dragons together captured the cave. They killed almost every man and woman inside.No dragon was birthed inside.’
The dragon was still outside the cave when an arrow was fired on it. The arrow hit the skull of dragon and bounced off as if it was a pebble. The dragon was looking towards the direction where the arrow was fired from.
Another arrow. The result was the same, it bounced off the scales as if a pebble. It did irritate the dragon though.
‘What are they doing?’
Everyone who had bow and arrow was firing arrows now and little good it did to the dragon until one unfortunate shot hit the dragon on the eye. The dragon howled in agony and …. it’s scream was not terrifying.
The scream was a child’s inarticulate scream: full of agony. It breathed fire in all directions burning arrows and heating stones before bolting back in. There was a silence in the night as if time was scared to move. It had to broken by Maddy
‘Now what sir?’
‘These guys run. We wait for the dragon’s revenge. Maddy they are coming out soon.’
Thank you for reading
(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.
‘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 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!
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:
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
Circle of Love
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:
Daily Prompt: Green Eyed Lady
NaPoWriMo Day 4 Poem ~~ Jealousy
Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Lady
Green Eyed Lady
The Emperor’s new clothes.
Competition revs me up: haiku and aspiration
DON’T COVET YOUR NEIGHBOR’S ASS
Portia’s green-eyed lady
HE WISHED HE COULD HAVE DONE THAT!
You have it already
Daily Prompt: Green-eyed Lady – I should not be here
Daily Feline Prompt: Green-eyed Feline
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:
An Emotional Triumph
Reflections: What Are We Feeding Our Children?
FIVE PHOTOS FIVE STORIES CHALLENGE: A date with Langurs (Day 1)
My Life : Review
Daily Feline Prompt: My Feline Life
Photos and Stories behind them – The cemetery, Feldbrunnen
5 PHOTOS, 5 STORIES – SPRING CLEANING – DAY 3
Four Stars: Two Anniversaries, Two Christenings & Open Studios.
Post a Week: Eden (Delight)
A Pet’s Life For Me
Daily Prompt: Four Stars — Remembering the Garry Armstrong Show
Daily Prompt: Four Stars
Daily Prompt: life
Daily Prompt: Four Stars
Rescued and Changed
Invisible Fences, Make Good Neighbors
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
Away with the colors of Hanukkah, Christmas, and Kwanzaa. Show us what “yellow” means to you.
Thanks For Reading
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?)
It is Christmas. The happiest times of the year. Lights everywhere. People gathering together, in their loved ones homes. Everyone tries to be human.
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.
Thanks For Reading
Have you ever faced a difficult situation when you had to choose between sorting it out yourself, or asking someone else for an easy fix? What did you choose — and would you make the same choice today?))
As I sat preparing for my exams my dog Jimmy decided that was the best time for him not to sleep.
Though he was supine right in the middle of the bed he was someway irritated and looking to chew something, maybe trying to grab air and chew it. This has happened many a times before and like always I gave him my hand so he could chew.
He doesn’t bite, just takes my hand inside his mouth and keeps it there. And after a while he sleeps, mostly with my hand still in his mouth, me feeling as a small dog chew toy. This time I had to scratch his head.
So with one hand tracing the textbook lines, other kept scratching and petting jimmy. Whenever I stopped scratching he would wake up and look with those big brown irises asking me why I stopped.
So this went on for half an hour, me scratching and studying. And when I stopped he was still asleep, dreaming of chicken and bones and everything favourite.
Makes you wonder what he would have said if he could have. Like somewhere along the lines of ‘Hey I have an itch to scratch, on my head. Help’ Or something else entirely.
It is thought inducing how him without saying a word or making a sound could convey what he wants. And how simple is it for him. Life’s big questions for him would be where to sleep now or what’s mummy making.
No words. No complexity.
Words. I always had a problem with them. I could never put them together, make them jell. Make the listener completely comprehend the kernel of what I intend to say.
And then I started blogging.
It is freedom.
I can write anything I want, how I want. Completely independent of who reads it and what they will think. Freedom which you will not attain outside the webpage where conversations cut short your thoughts, and sociality and mannerisms hamper you.
It is honesty.
Honesty that is interpreted as a fake in real life simply because no one can be that honest.
Every single one of the seventy something posts is me. Me, unfiltered and complete. People liked my thoughts and words, praised them. Writing became the sole way for me to express myself. I wrote to say sorry, wrote to say thank you and wrote for everything I could write on.
And I forgot that blogging ends with the website. That as soon as I click publish I have to attenuate myself for this world.
My honesty in real life spurned loose, and transpired to shamelessness. My freedom is now what I take forcefully. In complete disregard to others around me.
I forgot that blogging and real life is never the same. One of them is a page to write some four hundred words, other is more than just words. It is life. I got carried away.
I said things that have repercussions beyond my control. And now I realize that while my blog posts are me, I am more than those one paged posts. While I get followers and likes on blog for my thoughts, in my life thoughts are just a small role to play. My actions speak louder.
So here I am maybe taking an oath. I’ll change. Keep my freedom and honesty to my blog. But somehow finding a correct balance in life. Because I should.
Because I got carried away
Jimmy has it so easy.
Thanks For Reading
Let’s see what others have written:
At the end of the day there is no sorting hat: But Love and a greater good shall guide me
Uncle Bobby contacting my dad
Pushing It Hard, Why wait for Uncle Bob?
Calling Uncle Bob
Daily Prompt: Calling Uncle Bob – and Uncle Jim, Uncle Harry and Uncle Arthur
Uncle Bob by Default, It’s Me
Calling Uncle Bob: Unfix easy
Duck, Duck, Use
( By Heart
You’re asked to recite a poem (or song lyrics) from memory — what’s the first one that comes to mind? Does it have a special meaning, or is there another reason it has stayed, intact, in your mind?)
Yes, I understand that every life must end, aw-huh,..
As we sit alone, I know someday we must go, aw-huh,..
Oh I’m a lucky man, to count on both hands
the ones I love,..
Some folks just got one,
yeah, others, they got none,
The song is Just Breathe by my favorite band Pearl Jam. While watching a TV show once I heard this song for the first time, and I absolutely loved it. I still have this song in my phone, and the line from the song always touched a cord. Always.
After I heard the song I did the same, I counted the ones I love and care about. Counted the ones who I think love and care about me. And as ashamed as I am to admit it, I never count family. They are bound to love and care, they have always done so. So in conclusion I could never reach four fingers.
I cared about so many people, yet I never felt that the feeling is mutual.
I feel alone. In crowds. In the seclusion of home. I am not ashamed to admit it. Everyone feels the same, everyone is looking for something in their lives. So am I.
And now more than ever. When everything is golden and blissful, at those times the ephemeral feeling of accomplishment, the feeling of not being alone even for a small time lifts you up. When surrounded by people who laugh with you, eat with you. But when things turn sour, the people disappear with the wind.
When someone who I got really got attached to decided to walk out, I had to reevaluate my life. With the anger of feeling of being discarded as thrash, the mourning and the selfish sadist urge to hurt back, I realized that maybe I am doing things wrong.
Maybe I expect people to be like me. To live their lives by my ideals. To fill in the picture that I painted for my perfect life. And that, even for all my nice intentions, is really the most selfish I could be. And I never realized it.
I cannot even live up to my ideals, how could I expect others to do so? And how could I expect them to know answers to questions that I should know.
The only person who can help me is me. About time I realize this. Only I can decode my life. No one else can decide which master’s am I supposed to pursue, or how to manage the abrupt stress of college work.
I have a direction, and I intend to improve myself down the path just opened.
To the friend who decided to walk out, I want to stay angry. I want to hurt you, even for small measure of pleasure I could get. But I know it is not going to help me. Your decision to end things, so be it. No more heated words exchanged, no more shouting in front of others. And I hope that when you decide to talk again, I’ll have lower expectancy. And I’ll be better. And I hope the same be said for you too.
Thanks For Reading
Did you know today is Blog Action Day? Join bloggers from around the world and write a post about what inequality means to you. Have you ever encountered it in your daily life?
(Don’t forget to tag your post with “Inequality” — or #inequality on Twitter — so that other participants might find it.))
Recently I was accused of being libidinous and lacking any sense of propriety and mannerisms when talking to women in general. Though insulting in every sense possible, I concede that the accusation may hold some merit.
Most of my jibes do run along some lines which women in general may take as insolences, they forget to notice some mannerisms that guide me. And if I may, I’ll probably say that it is the women who accuse me of imprudence are in fact using gender as an excuse to protect themselves from my pokes.
After all it is the same girl who would not think a second before poking my patience. Where does the shield of ‘Being A Girl’ disappear then? And where does the equality lie?
I hate it, when girls(Not going to call them women for their immaturity) decide to use their gender as a means to win argument. More often than not, I have heard them say ‘I am a women and you will talk this way to me?!’ Or something of that order. But that same girl wouldn’t hesitate a second before crossing the same metaphorical lines for another person. So why use their gender to hide behind, when you can very well use individuality as a means to win an argument.
In short what I mean is that (some) girls more often than not think that they can get away with anything uttered or done simply because of their gender. But their same ideology vanishes into smoke when they should practice it.
The apparent hypocrisy of these individuals and their claims of being morally and ethically sound are what infuriates me. And then they decide that they are the perfect judges of your character.
How many times have you encountered a girl(or a guy) who wouldn’t give a second’s thought before that person starts bitching? And you could bet that the next sentence uttered will be along the lines of ‘I don’t like bitching, I’m not her’
It is asinine to be advocate of feminism and yet not understand that it encumbers no special preference to being a female.
I am not against the idea that certain reverence has to be given to females. Not because of their gender but because of their circumstances.
I should curb my ranting for now, I won’t be able to stop. After all I son want good amount of views and feedback on my post.
The very concept of equality is ideal at best. There couldn’t be equality among the gender because its prevalent to have chivalry and mannerism specific to a gender. And that is just the beneficial aspects of inequality. For women of course.
I treat people equally. Regardless of your gender or your sexual orientation you could expect me to.
treat you like I treat everyone else(I pass verbal jibes and pokes at everyone). There is your equality and that is possibly the best you could get from me.
Your gender doesn’t define you, its your abilities and choices that do. So possibly stop hiding behind the Being A Woman remark and face the world for what it is. Its hard, and it has nothing to do with you being a woman. We live in twenty first century, and in urban areas of Mumbai. You are not going to find any better place for gender equality in India(I think so).
FYI post is directed at a certain generic girls, not at females in general. I have had the pleasure of having great friends who are as open minded as they can get.
Thanks For Reading
Let’s see what others have written:
Unequal Terms: Inequality
Unequal Terms – The Daily Post.
Unequal Terms …
Life is not fair, but it need not be filled with inequality
FAR FROM EQUAL
Daily Prompt: Unequal Terms – That’s life unfortunately.
Man in the Mirror
The Importance of Educating Girls
What Inequality Has Meant to Me
Who says you can’t do that?
Inequality: When the guys get all puffy
My Suffragist Grandmother
a blog about the worlds, conventions, and curiosities of fantasy fiction
To Put Mosul on the Global Map
An exploration of human experience <br> through essay and image.
Celebrate the Past to Create Better Days Today - A Blog
Our voices, Our stories
Keep calm and use correct scientific methodology.
Life, Love, Adventure & Magic
Welcome to the Lunacy Community