Fiction: Against the Caped Crusader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

M: (Speechless)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

M: (Looking smug)

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

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

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

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

W: (Smiles at M) Thank you.

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

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

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

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

M: (Opens her mouth) Yes….

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fiction: I am going to Hell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Mister, are you okay?’ he asked me.

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

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

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

Bring Down Heaven trilogy by Sam Sykes

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

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

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

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

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

Pretty much everything I could ever like all together.

NOTE 2: Significant spoilers follow.

Each of the character has a different story.

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

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

This is why the story is so interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alfred, Dark Knight 2008

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


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

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

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

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

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

Daily Post: Tremble (Science Fiction)

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

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

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

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

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

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

No more trembling limbs or seizures.

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

Now I have to wait another two.

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

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

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

I am the first person to notice her hand tremble.


Thank you for reading!


Daily Prompt: Unseen Hero (Fiction)

‘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.

Fiction: Burying my companions secrets

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay cool I’ll be there in 10.”

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


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

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

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

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

“Headshot?” I ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not if there are no witnesses.”

I hear the click of the gun…….



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

Other responses:


Blogger Interview

Guest Blogger #3: Kailash Nath Interview

After I published my call for guest bloggers, Kailash here responded. I have read his fictions via daily post comments and I can say he is a really talented writer. His blog is full of fiction pieces that will entice you into reading more of his posts.

Without much adieu here is the interview that was supposed to go on yesterday! Sorry about that Kailash. Do check out his blog!


1. Who are you?

I am Kailash, and presently working as a Software Engineer. I am 21 years old and Like to sing (Though not a great singer), write, read and also travel.  Theres nothing much other than that to know about me.. 

I started telling stories since I met one of my friend who used to believe everything I say. One day he suggested me to write whatever I say and it becomes something interesting to read and like that i started a story and have got a good feedback from my friends and this encouraged me.

I dont like to say lies like I feel great while writing or something like that as I dont feel so. But whenever I see someone reading my story and telling their opinion I like myself…. So I write to be happy and like myself


2. What kind of stories/posts you enjoy reading most ?

At the starting of my reading habit, I used to read novels by Agatha and Sheldon, I.e., Murder mysteries and crime fiction. But later i also read books like TH\he alchemist and The kite Runner, Shiva Trilogy
 which also made me like those genres…..
At present I have written a story of crime fiction and working on a story which is something related to human emotions…..

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

And the tips…. I myself am a amateur writer so I need tips from some seniors… Some of the tips I got were to maintain tempo of the story neatly not rather fast nor very slow… Another tip was to give more attention to the characterisation of the different roles in the story.. anything and everything that a person in the story does should match their character and it should not change drastically….
Thats it about me.

Like I promised, a short interview!

His Guest Blog post(fiction) will be published on tuesday morning  so do come back here to check it out.

Thank You Kailash for the support.

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


Liberty Lion: Time

‘Circles? ’ I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Mayur Remember


Check Out Other’s Responses:

Time to Leave


Alice Accepts Her Fate

Literary Lion – A Homonym Too Far


In Time…Who’s going to remember?

30 Days 30 Fictions

When I started this blog, I did it to improve my creative writing.

Now my exams are finished and I have a month of free time, I intend to make use of it.

So in the coming thirty days, starting from tomorrow I will write a fictional story each day and publish it.

I think I can come up with a fiction a day!

Thanks For Reading

Inside My Head



There were three brothers once:
Let’s call them Good, Bad and Third.

Good wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted to be the person who takes care of others, who is the perfect son, the perfect Friend.

He could not see others in misery, their pain weakened his knees. He couldn’t imagine a world with sorrow and suffering. All he ever wanted to was to bring smile to everyone’s face.

And he had to fight to do that, and what was worse: He had to fight his brother Bad.

Bad hated the world. He wanted to inflict pain on others. Make fun of them. Bully them. And every blow given to Good only made Bad more heinous. He just wanted to make the world burn.

He hated God, for he hated himself too. He hated his brothers but he hated someone else hurting them more. Whimsical and tyrannical, he sought to make sure that when he gained control of world, he would remember everyone who brought him to his knees would suffer.

And so fought the two brothers. Again and again. Good crying over fighting his brother, Bad laughing in self hatred.

But where was the Third?

Third sat on the throne. His cavalier manner, indulgence and negligence exacerbated everything. After all, Third decoded to sit on the throne only till either of the two brothers become victorious just so he could be on his way.

This is how it has always been: Good and Bad fighting through all eternity, while Third sat idle. And under his, world rejoiced in freedoms, and under his world burned.

Thanks For Reading

Who Made You?

(Handmade Tales

Automation has made it possible to produce so many objects — from bread to shoes — without the intervention of human hands (assuming that pressing a button doesn’t count). What things do you still prefer in their traditional, handmade version?)


The huge metal exoskeleton looked at him. His red LED eyes could be surmised at being bloodshot. And his gargantuan arms had lifted a SUV off the ground. The internal mechanisms of the automation seemed to sound more and more like ragged breaths. Andrew gulped.

And as suddenly as that the automation went inanimate. The SUV still lifted off the ground by at least ten feet, the automation turned off. Andrew was confused. The automation shouldn’t be turned off now, not when another needs to go below the SUV and repair it.

“Heinous things aren’t these” Shawn called from behind him.

Andrew turned and greeted his childhood friend, who as of now was his boss too. But who cares, meeting him was always a good feeling.

Shawn continued “If they spend thousands of dollars making these machines can’t they look a little less horrible. I mean look at it, all the cables popping out of his limbs, cables all over him. If you have a figment of my imagination, that looks like a crabbed old man. Um wait, it also looks like your granddad Andrew.”

They both laughed at the similarities between the machine and the loving granddad. Shawn was always like that, he could smell if anyone had any difficulty and would always come to  aid. They both talked for a while and then continued to move towards the cafeteria.

The entire factory was deserted. Most of the workers were on strike, opposite the factory. Strike was simple, stop using machines, it increases their chances of getting a pink slip. A couple of the other issues, unions and certain interested parties also had their motives in the strike. But the main concern was this. Workers are being replaced by machines.

“Say Shawn” Andrew began “How long do you think the strike is gonna go on for?”

“Can’t say. They always go to strike these days. Every issue it seems is solved by strikes. But I don’t think they should be concerned with they getting replaced by machines.”

“Um, we are replacing them aren’t we? That’s what those machines are for?”

“Yeah but they,are forgetting something. Who is gonna make those machines? We are. That’s right, the authorities are so darn impressed by these bots that they are considering building a separate factory just to make that. And then sell the machines of course.”

Andrew couldn’t help but think about Terminator. His face must have shown it because Shawn continued, “You see the bosses are not very keen on mass termination of employees”

Andrew looked sharply at Shawn who snickered a laugh and continued “You aren’t looking at the bigger picture here. The more bigger the neighboring new factory is gonna be, the more employees they are gonna handle. We have employees who are loyal just there, doing nothing. They are great in mechanics and auto machinery. Perfect for new factory.”

Shawn has a point. “After all these machines aren’t here to steal people’s jobs, they are here so that people couldn’t work more. Simple jobs that require the employees only to press buttons.”

“You must have forgotten something. Even if we are turning this town into machines, who makes these machines? Well we do. And as long as the machines are there, there are jobs!”

Andrew was convinced that Shawn was right. More machines, more jobs. After all these autos were nothing but man made creations aren’t they?

(Since I am an engineer, I couldn’t write bad about these automatons. So I just wrote that these machines too are man made!)

Let’s see what others have written:
red speck
While on CIPRO longing for a handmade strawberry daiquiri and mojito

Monochrome Monday: Craft Fair
Daily Prompt: Handmade Tales – I am Mrs. Do-It-Yourself in person
Rise of the Machines: 3D-Printed Pizza Vs. Handmade Pizza
The lost art of penmanship (writing prompt)
Handmade Gifts of Love

Thanks For Reading

Punctuation And Misfits

Daily Prompt
( By the Dots

We all have strange relationships with punctuation — do you overuse exclamation marks? Do you avoid semicolons like the plague? What type of punctuation could you never live without? Tell us all about your punctuation quirks!)


Jon: We could try to get that guy he knows how to work this project out he is good last year he worked for another group on their project and delivered a quality product

Kay: Oh come on! Pause a bit. There are full stops and commas in English language for this purpose exactly. You are very difficult to understand when you keep babbling like this.

Dave: Ha. Ha. Ha. You. Are. So. Stupid. At. Times. Jon.

Quentin sighed. Three weeks it has been and almost every time they meet they hardly come to a decision. And as usual he kept his silence.

Jon: Alright. You guys remember Shawn and his group?

It was painfully plain to Quentin that Jon was trying his best to speak properly. Wonder how long that will last.

Everyone nodded their affirmation.

Jon:  Yeah yeah Shawn and his group needed an application on their project and they didn’t know what to do they tried and tried but till last they couldn’t make one and at last they had to resort to a app developer for hire and it was costly yes yes but it took the hired developer to make an app like a day or so…..

Jon would have continued but professor William walked into their conversation.

Quentin regretted this already. Meeting and discussing their project in the college university was a mistake. If someone overheard them their ideas could easily be stolen. A big university like this had a lot of people competing for attention. And now Jon was speaking of cheating. And a professor had overheard them.

This was not going to be good.

William: Don’t mind’e. I’m jus’ passin’ by. But couldn’t help’t overh’r you talkin’ about cheatin’?

Quentin spoke for the first time.

Quentin: Was nothing sir. We don’t know anything about no cheating sir.

William looked at Quentin closely and nodded.

He walked away. Every member of the group looked at Quentin.

Quentin looked around and grinned.

Quentin: You were saying Jon?

(Please do comment and give your feedback!)

Let’s see what others wrote:
Grunt Work
Daily Prompt: By the dots – what dots?
Pointed Avoidance
Punctuation, Perfectly Positioned, Promotes Productive Prose
I Love You Oxford Comma
Ellipsis Queen: Daily Post

Thanks For Reading

I stood… Now I move (An autobiography)

(Living Art

One day, your favorite piece of art — a famous painting or sculpture, the graffiti next door — comes to life. What happens next?)


I stood my ground. For ten years I stood my ground. Now I move. No more.

You made me in homage. You made me in resemblance to someone. Mostly someone great. Someone you never met. Someone you read about in your history books. But you made me.

I was black ceramic, lustrous in my birth. I stood in that posture that you wanted. That posture which must have become an identity. And I stood my ground.

I was proud. Head held high. Broaden chest. My eyes turned towards the skies, yet I still saw those who stood beneath me. And I stood my ground.

But years went by. You held speeches around me. You wore clothes like I wear. As if that makes you like me. You paid your respects to me on one day of the year. And I stood my ground.

I stood in the sun. No shade for my eyes. No relief for my skin. I lost my lustre. But I gave shade for those who couldn’t find shade. I stood my ground.

I drenched in the rains. Saw the city flooded, with water seeping into my ankles. Water made cracks in my unscathed skin. And I still stood my ground.

Birds chirped on my shoulders. And gave their offerings there. Cats and dogs dogs slept against my legs. I didn’t move. I stood my ground.

This place became acknowledged by a new name. I changed the name. I became a landmark. Guess that is how you make people remember the dead. Make them part of the diurnal routes. I achieved my goal.

Now I am leaving. Maybe people will run witnessing me move. I’ll definitely be on their phones and whatnot. But I stood my ground. Now I want to sit. And bath in the nearby lake.

And embrace the end that I have earned.

Let’s see what others have written:
21 Rules to My Life
Dubai Art Season – SIKKA14
Living Art
The Daily Post Writing Prompt: The Pitchfork Murders
Daily Post: Living Art – A Journey into the world of Surrealism
The King Beneath the Mountain of Gold

Thanks For Reading

I Have Got It!

Daily Prompt:

(Pick Your Gadget

Your local electronics store has just started selling time machines, anywhere doors, and invisibility helmets. You can only afford one. Which of these do you buy, and why?

(Thanks, atana’s world!, for inspiring this prompt!))


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.


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!”


A month ago this crazy looking scientists begged her for a place for his workshop. And now he could make things like these. She no longer was dubious of his claims, she had a proof of that herself.

“There is just one problem. Once you leave through this door and close it, there is no going back” He looked ashamed of this. Clarice couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. She kissed him there, and the look on his face made it even more funnier for her.

She now had an idea. And she was sure this will work.

Who wouldn’t want a cellphone which never has to be charged?

Who doesn’t have regrets? Who doesn’t want to change their past?

Who doesn’t want to disappear? Leave their life back and start again?

And now she had what she wanted.

Let’s see what others have written:
Split Personality
Pick Your Gadget
Daily Prompt: Pick Your Gadget but make your own decision.
The Anywhere Door
Time Flies
Where To, Miss?
Anywhere Door, I’ll Take That, Please

Thanks For Reading

You’re Beautiful,….

Daily Prompt

(Great Expectations

Tell us about one thing (or more) that you promised yourself you’d accomplish by the end of the year. How would you feel once you do? What if you don’t?)

Writing Challenge


The Setting’s the ThingToday, we challenge you to create a compelling setting for your story.)


(Daily Prompt: Always Something There to Remind Me

It is 31st December 2011.

Harry sat and asked for another beer.

“That’s your fifth. What’s the occasion?” The bartender replied with a grin.

Someone said it right, a bartender is the best kind of priest for confession. But harry wasn’t here for confession. His obsession had brought him here.

A year ago he attended his office’s New Year’s Eve bash. He had fun. He drank, joked, laughed and occasionally flirted with every girl that could consciously move.

And then he saw her.

She was one of the best girls he saw. Brunette, hair tied behind her head in a bun, still dressed in her office clothes she walked in. Her round face and tiny eyes, which even from far he saw were blue. A smile slowly spread across her face as he interacted with others, and he saw that smiling came easy to her. Her smile had an exuberance he never saw before in anyone before.

And she had dimples in which he could dive and lay forever.

And she noticed him gawking at her.

As he came near, a whisper escaped his throat. Then words. Then he sang when she could hear him.

You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.
You’re beautiful, it’s true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don’t know what to do,

She laughed again and it only made him groan.

She heard something and turned away, completely ignoring him. And then disappeared in another man’s embrace.
They kissed.

And a fire burned in Harry’s chest. Heat so intense that it brought tears to his eyes. He left before the new year countdown begin.

He tried to forget her. He honestly did.

At first he assumed that he will forget her with time; after all he didn’t even know her name. But he saw her everywhere. Every female colleague looked like her, every cute smile had dimples, every tied hair like her.

And yet none were hers.

He couldn’t get her out of his head. Her face was ingrained in his brain. He drank to forget her. He tried dating other girls but none were interesting any more.

He cursed himself for this stupid obsession. ‘What’s wrong with me?’ he asked repeatedly.

Every couple was a reminder of them. And he felt bitter and jealous towards everyone of them. He knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t know how.

And sometime in April he understood. He ran the party but he couldn’t leave. Somehow he had made a decision to talk to that girl. Somehow his new years resolution included that girl. His new years resolution was that girl.

And he didn’t even know her name.

May. He found out her name.

Janice. Janice Price soon to be Janice Price-Quentin.

She was engaged now. And he broke his phone when he got that news.

He tried again to move on. It took a bitter turn now, self destructive now. Drugs and alcohol. Nothing helped.

Months passed and he couldn’t help himself from finding more and more about her.

And now, a year later he sat in the bar, cursing himself. Tired of this jealously. Tired of his obsession. Even a psychiatrist couldn’t help him.

His resolution was never meant to be achieved, he understood now. Just a regret.

December 31,2011. Some one played the radio and the song turned to “You are beautiful”. He sighed. No use pretending now, and began to sing the song.

And his eyes fell on the mirror behind the bartender. And there he saw Janice.

First he assumed that it is just his hallucination. But then he became sure it was her. Sitting alone. Checking her phone.

He didn’t move. He saw her, observed her. He doesn’t know or understand why but now he did not want to go and talk with her. He just wanted to see.

And James Blunt sang “You are beautiful.”

Harry said “It’s true.”

Let’s see what other have written in daily prompt: