He loves me , he loves me not

3 Comments
Maybe Yes No Keys Representing Decisions

Image Courtesy here.

She loved that bag of chips. She loved the tintin comic she was reading. She loved the coco cola she was sipping on. The hostel room door was left open for the rest of the girls to feel jealous of her “happy bubble”. She seems so much at peace, she seems so much in love. She seems so much in possession of all her faculties. The scene from any romantic chickflick. This girl was busy making decisions while the others prepared for their finals.

Anyone who knew her well would understand the tension and the worries that clouded her psyche. The challenge that her mind is going through. The questions she is asking herself and the answers she is coming up with all by herself. Sometimes many confusing answers to the same simple question. Does he love me? Why is he being vague about his feelings?

That thin line between like and love. That thin line between sanity and insanity. The thin line between the two vastly different choices she has to make. A perfect life or a blissful one. A tough choice for anyone to make. A difficult decision for a 21 yr old. The uncertainity of her own feelings, the vagueness of the reciprocated feelings and the plethora of worries for the future ahead.

The coke, the chips, the comic and the blissfulness. She is now thinking of ways to make her perfect life blissful or try and make her blissful future perfect. The bubble bursts at some point. Sometimes letting others make decisions for you might not be a bad idea. Sometimes, decisions can be right and wrong at the same time. Why the choice? Why can’t she have both?

Advertisements

Masterpiece

Leave a comment

Photo_20180419_114047.png

It wasn’t a very bright morning. The dullness of the weather outside resembled the gloom that prevailed inside her.

She sat at her desk and looked out of her hotel room window. Writing comes naturally to her, no that’s not the problem. She wasn’t worried about her publisher’s deadline. Master storyteller she was. At least that’s what her friends and relatives praised her for. She weaved imaginative stories of demons and witches. Her stories often followed a standard path of intro, event, revenge, and conclusion. The details found in her characterizations have often contributed to her story writing skills. The facial expressions, the viscousness, the anxiety, the pain, the horror and the final retributions. It all added a finesse to her storyline.

She knows she just needs to start writing and the faces and events from her dreams will come alive on her laptop screen. It will become a story for the world to read and enjoy. She knows those demons and witches are a figment of her imagination. Those gory details certainly were.

But only she knows that the storyline and the characters are all too familiar to her. She weaves a fine tale around them while reliving the agony of her nightmares. The insecurities, the anxiety, the horrors, the hidden emotions inside her. All out there for the world to read. Yet no one understands them. No one understands the cry for help.

She turns to her keyboard and starts typing. Praying with all her heart that this would be her last nightmare. Even if it meant that it would be her last masterpiece.

True Light

14 Comments

On a gloomy day,
A hope awakens,
A sad sad moment,
Has been forsaken.

A morning bloom,
A shining dew,
On a happy note,
Hope’s anew.

Breathe with ease,
Have no fear,
Life is good,
Good times are near.

Thus heart’s desire ,
Shy, yet bright,
The love in me,
Shines like true light.

IMG_20180108_235534

It is a link up to Leo’s and Reema’s #WednesdayVerses.

The Incident

13 Comments
Car Diving

Picture Courtesy : Car Diving

It took a while for her to realize what was happening around her. The last thing Rema remembered is getting into the car and starting the engine. She was to pick up her daughter from her piano lessons. It was a 15 minute drive to the institute and was something that she always looked forward to doing.

 

Now she sat covered in a blanket wet to her bones being questioned by the police. A lady inspector was asking her if she was alright? Was she? She didn’t know what was happening. She doesn’t remember how she got there. How is she to answer a question like that? She sat there staring at the Inspector.

 

Inspector Jeena was looking over towards the other side of the lake. There on a stretcher was the body of an unidentified man. It wasn’t a gruesome scene at all. But she didn’t want the lady driver to see that scene as yet. She turned Rema to face the other direction and was trying to ask her a few questions. It looked like she was in a state of shock. Which is obvious after being pulled out of the lake after the car ran into it. Rema was plain lucky that she managed to get out the car. A passerby had rescued her and brought her to shore. The lake wasn’t a very deep one.

 

Now when the men were pulling out the car using a crane, Inspector Jeena could see that the windows were open. That is how Rema managed to surface. But why didn’t the man surface in time too, she thought. The post mortem is going to reveal the truth soon, thought she. Until then, it is best to keep all this from Rema. Not knowing what happened, a state of temporary amnesia is quite common in such accidents. This case will take some time to solve. There goes the fun Christmas holiday weekend with her daughter, she thought, as she nodded her head to inform the people to carry the body to the morgue for post mortem.

 

There was another ambulance ready to take Rema to the hospital. Jenna walked her to the ambulance, laid her down on the stretcher and got in with the nurses. She normally goes in the police jeep, but this time she somehow wanted to accompany Rema in the ambulance. Rema was holding on to Jeena’s hand tightly all along, but her eyes were now fixed on the van ceiling. Almost like as if she was in a trance.

 

To be continued……

Laced with Revenge

48 Comments

Laced With Revenge

Laced With Revenge

She looked around to see if anyone recognized her. Her presence was a threat to a few in the room and she had come disguised as a waiter. Her moustache was the Hercule Poirot kind. Within minutes of entering the room, she spotted him. She walked towards him, handed him the drink laced with cyanide.

***

Every person seemed like a threat to him. The guilt of what he had done had been haunting him for months now. It wasn’t his idea to ruin that girl’s life. He was heavily under the influence of his friends and drugs. The company he had kept was bad. He at least feared his fate.

***
They were five in all. And five glasses were found as the source of the poison. Every glass with a different variety. Each of the five boys died clutching their neck and screaming out help! No one could help. Just like no one came to help her when her innocence was being crushed under them.
***
Written for the Festival of Words 3 Day 6 @ Write Tribe : 55 Fiction on Friday
I'm taking part in the Write Tribe Festival of Words -3
55 on Friday #WriteTribe
Photo Courtesy : Photography Wallpapers

The Woman

70 Comments

20140301-161044.jpg
Jeevan wasn’t aware that he had invited someone home this weekend. His cleaning maid, who had the house key, must have let whoever it was in the kitchen, into the house. He came out of his room and stretched himself wondering why the decor of his apartment looked different this morning.

The smell of the waffles and the humming of “Lat Lag Gayee” pulled him towards the kitchen , where he noticed the back of the woman who was placing the waffles onto a plate and pouring some syrup over it. When she turned, he saw, to his horror, that her face was covered with blood and one eye was popping out and was hanging on her cheek! He stood rooted to the ground in a state of shock.

Just then, he heard loud noises behind him and turned around to face all of his friends and family entering his apartment and wishing him a “Happy Birthday”. He turned around back towards the kitchen, but it was empty!

All through the cake cutting and the brunch that followed, Jeevan wondered why the face of the woman, he thought he saw, looked so familiar.

Photo Courtesy : www.edrants.com

Written for the Festival Of Words 3 – Day 1Write Tribe : Write a  9 Sentence Fiction today.

I'm taking part in the Write Tribe Festival of Words -3