#review #shortstory #Florence
The Moonchild (1)
‘Sayanora, be safe’, he said and walked backwards.
‘Yes?’ she turned and they stumbled on each other causing the books on their hand to fall down.
‘Oops! Here you are’, he collected his journal and the books from the ground and gave it to her.
‘Sorry about that’, he apologized again.
‘No worries’, said she, ‘I should have been more careful. I thought I heard my name.’
‘Pardon?’ he puzzled for a moment.
‘I mean, someone called Sayanora and I turned back to see who it was.’
‘Oh! No, no, no, no, no. I was waving my mom goodbye. She is Spanish. Sayanora in Spanish means goodbye.’
‘Oh!’ and they both chuckled.
‘Anyway, can I offer you a cup of coffee?’ asked he.
‘Thanks but no thanks. I have to rush in to return this and run some errands. Maybe next time.”
That’s when he read the title of the book, ‘Heyy, “Norwegian Wood!” So you are the one who took it. I have been waiting forever for this book and the librarian would always say it hadn’t been returned.’ He couldn’t hide his resentment.
‘I’m sorry. I have been meaning to return it but got tied-up. Come with me and you can take it right away.”
‘You go ahead. I’ll be right with you.’’
‘Sure.’
He went back to the park bench and scribbled something in his journal.
Lost in thought he walked to the library.
She waved at him from a distance but he took no notice of her.
She came running and tripped over a hose.
‘Whoops! Are you okay?’ he asked while collecting the books from the floor.
‘Yes. I waved at you but you were in a reverie or something. Someone else is waiting to take that book. I told the librarian to put it on hold. Go, go.’
‘So kind of you. Many thanks.’
The Moonchild (1)
‘Sayanora, be safe’, he said and walked backwards.
‘Yes?’ she turned and they stumbled on each other causing the books on their hand to fall down.
‘Oops! Here you are’, he collected his journal and the books from the ground and gave it to her.
‘Sorry about that’, he apologized again.
‘No worries’, said she, ‘I should have been more careful. I thought I heard my name.’
‘Pardon?’ he puzzled for a moment.
‘I mean, someone called Sayanora and I turned back to see who it was.’
‘Oh! No, no, no, no, no. I was waving my mom goodbye. She is Spanish. Sayanora in Spanish means goodbye.’
‘Oh!’ and they both chuckled.
‘Anyway, can I offer you a cup of coffee?’ asked he.
‘Thanks but no thanks. I have to rush in to return this and run some errands. Maybe next time.”
That’s when he read the title of the book, ‘Heyy, “Norwegian Wood!” So you are the one who took it. I have been waiting forever for this book and the librarian would always say it hadn’t been returned.’ He couldn’t hide his resentment.
‘I’m sorry. I have been meaning to return it but got tied-up. Come with me and you can take it right away.”
‘You go ahead. I’ll be right with you.’’
‘Sure.’
He went back to the park bench and scribbled something in his journal.
Lost in thought he walked to the library.
She waved at him from a distance but he took no notice of her.
She came running and tripped over a hose.
‘Whoops! Are you okay?’ he asked while collecting the books from the floor.
‘Yes. I waved at you but you were in a reverie or something. Someone else is waiting to take that book. I told the librarian to put it on hold. Go, go.’
‘So kind of you. Many thanks.’
#review #shortstory #Florence
The Moonchild (2)
His version
"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where I do not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."
Neruda
It was the beginning of Autumn. There was nothing more pleasant than sauntering down the road at the crack of dawn under leaf canopies savouring the multi-hued autumn foliage. The red maple leaves, brown oak leaves and yellow ginkgo leaves fell off, twisting and turning in the soft wind, determined to leave the trees bare. An old man of indeterminate age hummed along while raking the leaves of which some crushed underfoot making crackly sounds.
As I was between jobs, perching on a park bench and immersing myself in the beauty of nature until the library opens had become part of my daily routine. It was during one of those lucky days I met her first and fell in love instantaneously. She looked elegant in her lavender accordion skirt and a white short sleeve top with a scarf to complement it. She had a captivating smile, beautiful enough to melt everyone’s heart. What struck me the most was her indomitable confidence emanated from her. She would come every weekend, go straight to the library and leave exactly after half an hour as if she exactly had in mind what book to take. On her way back, she sometimes would stop at a confectionary shop or at the florist for a quick pep talk. Gradually, I had gotten into the habit of secretly observing her but stalking her was something out of my secret agenda. Because it was exciting to love someone without that person’s knowledge and whereabouts (and also I was uncertain of her reaction). I knew I would approach her someday but not in the near future. As a next step, I started spending more time inside the library pretending to read. So far, I have been successful in presenting myself as someone who’s rather self-involved, not minding anyone else’s damn business. I don’t want her to find that I am into her head over heels. And today, I dared to offer her a cup of coffee but she turned me down. But on the bright side, I was glad that I could exchange a few pleasantries with her. Looking forward to meeting her again.
"I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me."
-Neruda
The Moonchild (2)
His version
"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where I do not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."
Neruda
It was the beginning of Autumn. There was nothing more pleasant than sauntering down the road at the crack of dawn under leaf canopies savouring the multi-hued autumn foliage. The red maple leaves, brown oak leaves and yellow ginkgo leaves fell off, twisting and turning in the soft wind, determined to leave the trees bare. An old man of indeterminate age hummed along while raking the leaves of which some crushed underfoot making crackly sounds.
As I was between jobs, perching on a park bench and immersing myself in the beauty of nature until the library opens had become part of my daily routine. It was during one of those lucky days I met her first and fell in love instantaneously. She looked elegant in her lavender accordion skirt and a white short sleeve top with a scarf to complement it. She had a captivating smile, beautiful enough to melt everyone’s heart. What struck me the most was her indomitable confidence emanated from her. She would come every weekend, go straight to the library and leave exactly after half an hour as if she exactly had in mind what book to take. On her way back, she sometimes would stop at a confectionary shop or at the florist for a quick pep talk. Gradually, I had gotten into the habit of secretly observing her but stalking her was something out of my secret agenda. Because it was exciting to love someone without that person’s knowledge and whereabouts (and also I was uncertain of her reaction). I knew I would approach her someday but not in the near future. As a next step, I started spending more time inside the library pretending to read. So far, I have been successful in presenting myself as someone who’s rather self-involved, not minding anyone else’s damn business. I don’t want her to find that I am into her head over heels. And today, I dared to offer her a cup of coffee but she turned me down. But on the bright side, I was glad that I could exchange a few pleasantries with her. Looking forward to meeting her again.
"I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me."
-Neruda
#review #shortstory #Florence
The Moonchild (3)
Her Version
"As if you were on fire from within.
The moon lives in the lining of your skin."
-Neruda
It is surprising when you find a rekindled spark of love inside you. It is even more surprising to find that it hasn’t died inside you. I don’t know what’s happening to me and this uncertainty kills me. Because I was almost an alien to these kinds of feelings. My heart is burning with desire and I fail to put that out.
I still remember the first day when I met him at the library. I fell for him without an instant’s hesitation. He would always be engrossed in his own world reading something or the other. It seemed to me that he wouldn’t blink even when the crystal chandelier fell on him from the ceiling. He would sit there for hours reading as if there were no tomorrow or he might be memorizing each and every word fearing that Guy Montag and his firemen come to burn the building and the books at fahrenheit 451!!
Even after getting the book I want, I simply rummage through the shelf so that I can observe him from the corner of my eye. Sometimes, I even ask myself why I have this obsessive need for him to find me. For him, I am just another member of the library. I really wish he could at least once take his eyes away from the book to look at me. God! Put an end to my agony and give me the joys of spring.
“so I wait for you like a lonely house
till you will see me again and live in me.
Till then my windows ache.”
The Moonchild (3)
Her Version
"As if you were on fire from within.
The moon lives in the lining of your skin."
-Neruda
It is surprising when you find a rekindled spark of love inside you. It is even more surprising to find that it hasn’t died inside you. I don’t know what’s happening to me and this uncertainty kills me. Because I was almost an alien to these kinds of feelings. My heart is burning with desire and I fail to put that out.
I still remember the first day when I met him at the library. I fell for him without an instant’s hesitation. He would always be engrossed in his own world reading something or the other. It seemed to me that he wouldn’t blink even when the crystal chandelier fell on him from the ceiling. He would sit there for hours reading as if there were no tomorrow or he might be memorizing each and every word fearing that Guy Montag and his firemen come to burn the building and the books at fahrenheit 451!!
Even after getting the book I want, I simply rummage through the shelf so that I can observe him from the corner of my eye. Sometimes, I even ask myself why I have this obsessive need for him to find me. For him, I am just another member of the library. I really wish he could at least once take his eyes away from the book to look at me. God! Put an end to my agony and give me the joys of spring.
“so I wait for you like a lonely house
till you will see me again and live in me.
Till then my windows ache.”
#review #shortstory #Florence
The Moonchild (4)
They met again next weekend, this time with an embarrassing smile. He asked her to join him for a walk through the garden.
‘Apparently, there was a mix-up with the books,’ he started to end the silence.
‘Well, we were not supposed to read each other’s journals.’ she answered.
‘Turned out to be good though,’ he couldn’t suppress a smile there. “When you fall in love, the natural thing to do is give yourself to it.”
‘Murakami. So I guess you have finished reading “Norwegian Wood.”’
‘Yes. it was a complete page-turner. It didn’t take me long to complete it.’
After a few minutes' walk, they settled on a bench. He took her hands and looked her in the eyes.
‘Look Sayanora, we know that we are into each other. So what do you say we proceed to see how far this goes?’
‘But there are some things I want you to know,’ she said with unblinking eyes.
‘Doesn’t matter, you know. After all is said and done we are not strangers. I don’t care about your past and I hope you don’t care about mine either,’ assured he.
‘I have a daughter.’
He startled for a moment.
‘Her name is Matilda. She is 10 years old and partially paralysed.’
This came as a shock to him. He gathered himself and asked her about the father.
‘Long story short, he left me after finding that I was pregnant,’ and she sobbed like a child.
‘Shh..shhh..there.. there…,’ he hugged her and let her cry till the tears dried out. It never occurred to him that there’s a misery lurking beneath her beautiful smile.
Making sure that she was okay he promised he would meet her next week in the library.
‘Would you like to drop in for a coffee? I live nearby and you can meet my daughter also.’ and she waited for a positive reply.
‘Sure.’ he couldn’t leave her.
They walked in silence.
‘So, is she named after Roald Dahl’s Matilda?’ he asked to break the silence.
‘Brilliant! Yes, she is. If it were a boy I would have named him Charlie, you know’, she broke into laughter and continued, ‘every night I read to her and Dahl is her favourite also.’
It took only a five-minute walk to her home.
She introduced her daughter to him. She was a pretty little girl with a winsome smile and got on well with him.
Suddenly, he noticed around the girl’s neck a silver chain with a crescent moon pendant.
‘It looks fantastic,’ he said pointing to the chain. ‘I also had one with me but got lost somewhere.’
‘That’s sad. You can wear it for some time you know,’ Matilda lavished her affection on him.
He checked the pendant for it looked familiar to him. It was exactly like the one he got from his mother. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he read the initials behind the pendant. It read D. V.
The Moonchild (4)
They met again next weekend, this time with an embarrassing smile. He asked her to join him for a walk through the garden.
‘Apparently, there was a mix-up with the books,’ he started to end the silence.
‘Well, we were not supposed to read each other’s journals.’ she answered.
‘Turned out to be good though,’ he couldn’t suppress a smile there. “When you fall in love, the natural thing to do is give yourself to it.”
‘Murakami. So I guess you have finished reading “Norwegian Wood.”’
‘Yes. it was a complete page-turner. It didn’t take me long to complete it.’
After a few minutes' walk, they settled on a bench. He took her hands and looked her in the eyes.
‘Look Sayanora, we know that we are into each other. So what do you say we proceed to see how far this goes?’
‘But there are some things I want you to know,’ she said with unblinking eyes.
‘Doesn’t matter, you know. After all is said and done we are not strangers. I don’t care about your past and I hope you don’t care about mine either,’ assured he.
‘I have a daughter.’
He startled for a moment.
‘Her name is Matilda. She is 10 years old and partially paralysed.’
This came as a shock to him. He gathered himself and asked her about the father.
‘Long story short, he left me after finding that I was pregnant,’ and she sobbed like a child.
‘Shh..shhh..there.. there…,’ he hugged her and let her cry till the tears dried out. It never occurred to him that there’s a misery lurking beneath her beautiful smile.
Making sure that she was okay he promised he would meet her next week in the library.
‘Would you like to drop in for a coffee? I live nearby and you can meet my daughter also.’ and she waited for a positive reply.
‘Sure.’ he couldn’t leave her.
They walked in silence.
‘So, is she named after Roald Dahl’s Matilda?’ he asked to break the silence.
‘Brilliant! Yes, she is. If it were a boy I would have named him Charlie, you know’, she broke into laughter and continued, ‘every night I read to her and Dahl is her favourite also.’
It took only a five-minute walk to her home.
She introduced her daughter to him. She was a pretty little girl with a winsome smile and got on well with him.
Suddenly, he noticed around the girl’s neck a silver chain with a crescent moon pendant.
‘It looks fantastic,’ he said pointing to the chain. ‘I also had one with me but got lost somewhere.’
‘That’s sad. You can wear it for some time you know,’ Matilda lavished her affection on him.
He checked the pendant for it looked familiar to him. It was exactly like the one he got from his mother. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he read the initials behind the pendant. It read D. V.
#review #shortstory #Florence
The Moonchild (5)
‘Sayanora… Sayanora…’ he called out.
‘What’s the matter? She answered from the kitchen.
He went to her and continued, ‘I know you are reluctant to stir up your past but I need to know what exactly happened in your life and I promise I won’t leave you.’
She took a deep breath and sat down to reveal her story.
‘Well, first of all, I’m sorry I lied to you. Her father didn’t leave just because I was pregnant. In fact, he had no idea. Matilda happened out of wedlock. I was a sophomore in Virginia Public school and on new year’s eve, I attended a costume party at my friend’s home. She forced me to drink what she said was wine, but it was not. Everyone came with their dates and was celebrating and dancing. I was hopeless and desperate for love. That’s when this mysterious guy appeared from nowhere. I couldn’t recognize his face because the room was rather dim and poorly lit. He asked me to dance with him and we made out. One thing led to another and we slept together in a drunken frenzy. I woke up the next morning realizing that he had already left me. Everyone was clueless about him and tracking him was impossible because I didn’t even know his name. My friends said it might be my manicorn coming in dreams to take me away to la-la land. It was like a nightmare. I was troubled by recurring dreams of him and had a hard time adjusting to the new reality. I was an avid reader so I tried to find solace in my books. Later, I found out that I was pregnant. My father’s strict Victorian upbringing forced him to disown me and my mother neither wanted me to leave nor did she stop him. My relatives showed no interest to take me in. It was difficult to find accommodation and Mary, a friend of mine shared her apartment with me and I did every odd job to make ends meet. I managed to save up some money and after Matilda was born I shifted here. I started a new job as an accountant in a department store nearby and I am free on most weekends. And a weekend visit to the library is a relief from the hitherto monotonous routine of my daily life. So, here I am sitting on this couch and sharing my miserable story. What do you feel now?’
The Moonchild (5)
‘Sayanora… Sayanora…’ he called out.
‘What’s the matter? She answered from the kitchen.
He went to her and continued, ‘I know you are reluctant to stir up your past but I need to know what exactly happened in your life and I promise I won’t leave you.’
She took a deep breath and sat down to reveal her story.
‘Well, first of all, I’m sorry I lied to you. Her father didn’t leave just because I was pregnant. In fact, he had no idea. Matilda happened out of wedlock. I was a sophomore in Virginia Public school and on new year’s eve, I attended a costume party at my friend’s home. She forced me to drink what she said was wine, but it was not. Everyone came with their dates and was celebrating and dancing. I was hopeless and desperate for love. That’s when this mysterious guy appeared from nowhere. I couldn’t recognize his face because the room was rather dim and poorly lit. He asked me to dance with him and we made out. One thing led to another and we slept together in a drunken frenzy. I woke up the next morning realizing that he had already left me. Everyone was clueless about him and tracking him was impossible because I didn’t even know his name. My friends said it might be my manicorn coming in dreams to take me away to la-la land. It was like a nightmare. I was troubled by recurring dreams of him and had a hard time adjusting to the new reality. I was an avid reader so I tried to find solace in my books. Later, I found out that I was pregnant. My father’s strict Victorian upbringing forced him to disown me and my mother neither wanted me to leave nor did she stop him. My relatives showed no interest to take me in. It was difficult to find accommodation and Mary, a friend of mine shared her apartment with me and I did every odd job to make ends meet. I managed to save up some money and after Matilda was born I shifted here. I started a new job as an accountant in a department store nearby and I am free on most weekends. And a weekend visit to the library is a relief from the hitherto monotonous routine of my daily life. So, here I am sitting on this couch and sharing my miserable story. What do you feel now?’
#review #shortstory #Florence
The Moonchild (6)
He sat motionless throughout the story and struggled for words.
‘Oh my gosh! I don’t know what to say. Do you recollect his appearance or anything at all?’
‘I wish I could. But, Unfortunately, no. The only thing I could remember of him was his tattoo on his chest which read “niño de la luna” and this silver chain in your hand which he left there.’
‘Sayanora, you need to know what I’m about to say. So, brace yourself. Believe it or not, this chain belongs to me.’
‘Wait, what?’ She replied wide-eyed and astounded.
‘Just be nonchalant and listen to me uninterrupted,’ and he took off his shirt to expose the tattoo which read “niño de la luna.”
She gasped and tears streamed down her cheeks.
‘Why did you leave me? You owe me an apology and an explanation as well,’ she couldn’t help bursting out.
‘I didn’t leave you. I wanted to come back the next day but things took an unexpected turn. Please listen to me. I was born in Mexico and have been living in the US since I was five years old. I am a typical Dickens boy who was left an orphan after my parents’ death. My uncle sheltered me but cost me a life. He was a drug dealer and used me to exchange drugs between parties. I tried many times to run away but each time he found me. One day he told me to give two packets to two students and I was meant to meet them at a costume party and was supposed to look for red and blue-haired chaps. Only recently did I discover that Jamaican Red Hair and Kentucky Blue were secret codes for marijuana.
So, that’s how I came to the party. I refused to go but my uncle was persistent and even threatened to kill me. As I glanced around the room for red and blue-haired guys my eyes got stuck on you. You looked like a damsel in distress and I felt an urge to take you in my arms and comfort you. What I felt was true and I went for my instinct. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling someone dragging my feet. It was my uncle’s stepson who was also in the drug business. He told me that uncle was taken by the mafia as he failed to accomplish his task and if he blurted out anything they would come after me. He was kind enough to let me go and I raced through the nearest rail tracks hoping to reach the end of the world.
The Moonchild (6)
He sat motionless throughout the story and struggled for words.
‘Oh my gosh! I don’t know what to say. Do you recollect his appearance or anything at all?’
‘I wish I could. But, Unfortunately, no. The only thing I could remember of him was his tattoo on his chest which read “niño de la luna” and this silver chain in your hand which he left there.’
‘Sayanora, you need to know what I’m about to say. So, brace yourself. Believe it or not, this chain belongs to me.’
‘Wait, what?’ She replied wide-eyed and astounded.
‘Just be nonchalant and listen to me uninterrupted,’ and he took off his shirt to expose the tattoo which read “niño de la luna.”
She gasped and tears streamed down her cheeks.
‘Why did you leave me? You owe me an apology and an explanation as well,’ she couldn’t help bursting out.
‘I didn’t leave you. I wanted to come back the next day but things took an unexpected turn. Please listen to me. I was born in Mexico and have been living in the US since I was five years old. I am a typical Dickens boy who was left an orphan after my parents’ death. My uncle sheltered me but cost me a life. He was a drug dealer and used me to exchange drugs between parties. I tried many times to run away but each time he found me. One day he told me to give two packets to two students and I was meant to meet them at a costume party and was supposed to look for red and blue-haired chaps. Only recently did I discover that Jamaican Red Hair and Kentucky Blue were secret codes for marijuana.
So, that’s how I came to the party. I refused to go but my uncle was persistent and even threatened to kill me. As I glanced around the room for red and blue-haired guys my eyes got stuck on you. You looked like a damsel in distress and I felt an urge to take you in my arms and comfort you. What I felt was true and I went for my instinct. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling someone dragging my feet. It was my uncle’s stepson who was also in the drug business. He told me that uncle was taken by the mafia as he failed to accomplish his task and if he blurted out anything they would come after me. He was kind enough to let me go and I raced through the nearest rail tracks hoping to reach the end of the world.
#review #shortstory #Florence
The Moonchild (7)
And the next thing I remembered was the radiant smile of a lady. I still have no idea how she got me but I’m grateful that she put a roof over my head and filled my belly. Once the dust had settled I came to Virginia looking for that mysterious girl in Dorothy Gale costume but in vain. I have been hoping to find her and now here I am. Unbelievable, isn’t it?
She couldn’t believe her ears. ‘But the initials of the pendant says D. V,’ said she.
‘You never asked my name.’
That’s when she realized even though they fell in love and poured out everything about each other she still didn’t know his name. She passed an embarrassing smile.
‘Dimitri Valentino. The chain was gifted to me by my birth mom. I am a moonchild. My zodiac sign is cancer. And the lady who I was bidding bye to was my foster mom, Isabelle. She knows you as ‘the girl in the library.’ She came that day to meet you.’
‘Oh God! Feels like a fairytale to me.’
He looked at her eyes, covered her cheeks with his hands and pressed his lips on her forehead. ‘Finally, We have found each other and I love you.’
She, still closing eyes, gently whispered, "Don't leave me, even for an hour..”
And he recited along,
“... because then
the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart."
A few months later, in a pleasant morning in late spring,
Minister: Dimitry Valentino and Sayanora Olive, now that you have exchanged your vows, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride!!
The Moonchild (7)
And the next thing I remembered was the radiant smile of a lady. I still have no idea how she got me but I’m grateful that she put a roof over my head and filled my belly. Once the dust had settled I came to Virginia looking for that mysterious girl in Dorothy Gale costume but in vain. I have been hoping to find her and now here I am. Unbelievable, isn’t it?
She couldn’t believe her ears. ‘But the initials of the pendant says D. V,’ said she.
‘You never asked my name.’
That’s when she realized even though they fell in love and poured out everything about each other she still didn’t know his name. She passed an embarrassing smile.
‘Dimitri Valentino. The chain was gifted to me by my birth mom. I am a moonchild. My zodiac sign is cancer. And the lady who I was bidding bye to was my foster mom, Isabelle. She knows you as ‘the girl in the library.’ She came that day to meet you.’
‘Oh God! Feels like a fairytale to me.’
He looked at her eyes, covered her cheeks with his hands and pressed his lips on her forehead. ‘Finally, We have found each other and I love you.’
She, still closing eyes, gently whispered, "Don't leave me, even for an hour..”
And he recited along,
“... because then
the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart."
A few months later, in a pleasant morning in late spring,
Minister: Dimitry Valentino and Sayanora Olive, now that you have exchanged your vows, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride!!
"A LITTLE HELP, PLEASE"
Part-2
DAY- 72
I am free, atlast i made it, mom! mom! where are you? what happened dear why you look so.... before she could complete, i hugged her and drifted away in the ocean of tears
Day-2
Where am i? why? Why this happened to me? He lied to me. He lied. I cried in the agony of the betrayal as i pulled my hair in pain. The warm tears had woven a swamp around my face.
Day- 4
There is no sound, people or any shadow, nor i could see myself in the mirror. Am i even alive?
Day-15
I am tired, I mostly spend my time in the bed while staring at the mirror, maybe i would find a way back home, apparently i do'nt feel any hunger, it feels like i have been eating well, but i taste nothing.
5 days before the tragedy
Alright, now open your eyes a little more wide - said Dr Whell a psychiatrist
Hmmmm, a little sleep deprived are we - said Dr whell while turning away from me as he scribbled something in his diary
Is she alright Dr ? - asked my mom, anxiously
Well i wont say she is'nt, but still, it wont bite to be extra careful - said Dr Whell as he passed a prescription of medicines to my mom
I have written some sleeping pills and vitamins, not any serious drug, we will wait for a few days and if she keeps having the same nightmares we can try some therapy. - said Dr whell
We left in the car for the home, i just turned 15 a week ago and by the same day I have been having this terrible nightmare over and over that someone is pulling me by my leg and dragging me towards the hell. As if i am barely hanging on the edge of two worlds and i could feel the heat coming from the hell as it burns my skin, the smell of the burning skin and my screams seemed so real. and everytime i woke abruptly, terrified, i always found myself near the mirror in my room, each day closer and closer. What does it mean?
#review #shortstory #horror
#Einstestine
Part-2
DAY- 72
I am free, atlast i made it, mom! mom! where are you? what happened dear why you look so.... before she could complete, i hugged her and drifted away in the ocean of tears
Day-2
Where am i? why? Why this happened to me? He lied to me. He lied. I cried in the agony of the betrayal as i pulled my hair in pain. The warm tears had woven a swamp around my face.
Day- 4
There is no sound, people or any shadow, nor i could see myself in the mirror. Am i even alive?
Day-15
I am tired, I mostly spend my time in the bed while staring at the mirror, maybe i would find a way back home, apparently i do'nt feel any hunger, it feels like i have been eating well, but i taste nothing.
5 days before the tragedy
Alright, now open your eyes a little more wide - said Dr Whell a psychiatrist
Hmmmm, a little sleep deprived are we - said Dr whell while turning away from me as he scribbled something in his diary
Is she alright Dr ? - asked my mom, anxiously
Well i wont say she is'nt, but still, it wont bite to be extra careful - said Dr Whell as he passed a prescription of medicines to my mom
I have written some sleeping pills and vitamins, not any serious drug, we will wait for a few days and if she keeps having the same nightmares we can try some therapy. - said Dr whell
We left in the car for the home, i just turned 15 a week ago and by the same day I have been having this terrible nightmare over and over that someone is pulling me by my leg and dragging me towards the hell. As if i am barely hanging on the edge of two worlds and i could feel the heat coming from the hell as it burns my skin, the smell of the burning skin and my screams seemed so real. and everytime i woke abruptly, terrified, i always found myself near the mirror in my room, each day closer and closer. What does it mean?
#review #shortstory #horror
#Einstestine
#navin #review
Your good looks aren't enough to make a person fall for you . bring our your talents and abilities , because people who fall for looks are always temporary lovers. for permanent love , your good looks work as icing on the cake, but the real flavour of the cake is decided by what type of person you actually are . don't be proud of your looks , you have got them in your genes. be proud of your talents thats what you actually own. ❤️
Your good looks aren't enough to make a person fall for you . bring our your talents and abilities , because people who fall for looks are always temporary lovers. for permanent love , your good looks work as icing on the cake, but the real flavour of the cake is decided by what type of person you actually are . don't be proud of your looks , you have got them in your genes. be proud of your talents thats what you actually own. ❤️
#Nandinithakar #review #poem
You can follow the salty drops,
From her eyes to her chin.
And you'll lose your way,
Finding her pain.
She hides her scars ,
Behind her graceful moves.
She is an expert in disguising her pain,
Behind her beautiful smile.
She'll sing out her sorrows,
She'll dance out her despairs,
But what she won't do,
Is she would Never Give Up !
You can follow the salty drops,
From her eyes to her chin.
And you'll lose your way,
Finding her pain.
She hides her scars ,
Behind her graceful moves.
She is an expert in disguising her pain,
Behind her beautiful smile.
She'll sing out her sorrows,
She'll dance out her despairs,
But what she won't do,
Is she would Never Give Up !
#navin #poetry #review
The walls
“The orator, The one you see there.
and the eloquence of his language
He did not know a word of these.
He learned it as he talked to the walls”
“The walls,dad? Had been troublesome!
Who told him what’s right, or was wrong?
Or a doubt that would take him life long?”
“Son,” Said the man,
“The walls offered answers to him,
As he had questions for the walls”
The walls
“The orator, The one you see there.
and the eloquence of his language
He did not know a word of these.
He learned it as he talked to the walls”
“The walls,dad? Had been troublesome!
Who told him what’s right, or was wrong?
Or a doubt that would take him life long?”
“Son,” Said the man,
“The walls offered answers to him,
As he had questions for the walls”
#review
#Aarushi
#microtale
" Mom, since God has created all of us, he must know the languages and the meaning of all of them, right"?
"Of course, dear".
"Then why does he not understand the tears of stray animals and homeless people"?
#Aarushi
#microtale
" Mom, since God has created all of us, he must know the languages and the meaning of all of them, right"?
"Of course, dear".
"Then why does he not understand the tears of stray animals and homeless people"?
CHANGE #review #Nandinithakar
Yes change
Can be beautiful,
Or devastating.
You may be
Healing,
And breaking,
It might be scary,
And surprising.
Sense everything
Because
As you may
Have heard,
CHANGE=GROWTH
Yes change
Can be beautiful,
Or devastating.
You may be
Healing,
And breaking,
It might be scary,
And surprising.
Sense everything
Because
As you may
Have heard,
CHANGE=GROWTH
Eden's apple that EVE ate.
Newton's apple lead to the discovery of laws of physics.
Golden apple appeard in many religious traditions, often as a mystical or forbidden fruit.
Poison apple from sleeping beauty.
Apple tech, biggest tech company in the word.
Pen pineapple apple pen, internet viral meme.
Even RYUK from Death Note eats apple.
And there are even colors name after the fruit- apple red and candy apple red
What's with apple taking all the credit while bananas only has dirty jokes? Anyone?
#review #random
#Einstestine
Newton's apple lead to the discovery of laws of physics.
Golden apple appeard in many religious traditions, often as a mystical or forbidden fruit.
Poison apple from sleeping beauty.
Apple tech, biggest tech company in the word.
Pen pineapple apple pen, internet viral meme.
Even RYUK from Death Note eats apple.
And there are even colors name after the fruit- apple red and candy apple red
What's with apple taking all the credit while bananas only has dirty jokes? Anyone?
#review #random
#Einstestine
Masjids Cannot Contain Islam
They are unjust, those
Who wish to contract Islam.
Islam is huge that it needs
All places where a muslim is.
And trying to force it
Into that small space
Only mean, they want it dead
#poem #review #AhmadMusa
They are unjust, those
Who wish to contract Islam.
Islam is huge that it needs
All places where a muslim is.
And trying to force it
Into that small space
Only mean, they want it dead
#poem #review #AhmadMusa
#review #shortstory
#Einstestine
"Too good"
He is walking straight, towards an unknown destination by a random road he took . The rain barely bothers him as he loosened his tie and throw away his coat on the sideway, a blood soaked white shirt and an empty gun beside his waist, plain in sight begging to be noticed . His lumping was'nt natural but the result of his rage and his nature of loving too much. He clears his constant bleeding nose with his arm, and with the other he put pressure on the wound in his stomach. It's raining heavy now, the crimson rain around him has become more red, as he tripped and fall down on his knees, the agony on his face revealed a deep sadness and remorse. He turned his face up in the sky and let the rain wash away all of his pain and suffering and atlast he let go of his wound and fall on his face in the ground
I could'nt end him, how could i? after seeing such determination. I put my gun back in the coat, as i walked away holding an umberalla, all alone. I wished i too have taken a wound like that to compete with him, but alas! I was too good. In this battle of snake and mongoose, this snake has won today. Again.
#Einstestine
"Too good"
He is walking straight, towards an unknown destination by a random road he took . The rain barely bothers him as he loosened his tie and throw away his coat on the sideway, a blood soaked white shirt and an empty gun beside his waist, plain in sight begging to be noticed . His lumping was'nt natural but the result of his rage and his nature of loving too much. He clears his constant bleeding nose with his arm, and with the other he put pressure on the wound in his stomach. It's raining heavy now, the crimson rain around him has become more red, as he tripped and fall down on his knees, the agony on his face revealed a deep sadness and remorse. He turned his face up in the sky and let the rain wash away all of his pain and suffering and atlast he let go of his wound and fall on his face in the ground
I could'nt end him, how could i? after seeing such determination. I put my gun back in the coat, as i walked away holding an umberalla, all alone. I wished i too have taken a wound like that to compete with him, but alas! I was too good. In this battle of snake and mongoose, this snake has won today. Again.
Who am I
I want to be the shining sun-rays,
I want to be the melting moonbeam,
I want to be the flower's fragrance,
Thus I want to find my ways.
Who am I?
I am my mom's cute darling!
I find my dreams in singing aloud,
The wings of my dreams clipped,
I find my ways in writing poems
My ways are confined to house hold about.
Who am I?
Oh! I am a wife and a mother.
My trembling hands seek for hands,
My tiring eyes look for someone,
My lonely heart craves for love,
All my weak limbs refuse my commands.
Who am I?
A skinny old mother at old age home.#review #an effort# dot
I want to be the shining sun-rays,
I want to be the melting moonbeam,
I want to be the flower's fragrance,
Thus I want to find my ways.
Who am I?
I am my mom's cute darling!
I find my dreams in singing aloud,
The wings of my dreams clipped,
I find my ways in writing poems
My ways are confined to house hold about.
Who am I?
Oh! I am a wife and a mother.
My trembling hands seek for hands,
My tiring eyes look for someone,
My lonely heart craves for love,
All my weak limbs refuse my commands.
Who am I?
A skinny old mother at old age home.#review #an effort# dot
#review #freenix
A Day in the life of Sujatha
Part 1
As the slanting rays of the sun fell across her face forcing itself through the old wooden window, Sujatha woke up to a new day quite unwillingly. Her eyelids still not wanting to depart each other, it looked more like a choice made to avoid facing the painful realities. She gently nudged, Bidyut, her 4-year-old son to wake up who had burrowed himself in his blanket beside her. She sat for a moment letting the thoughts of her incomplete project work run through her mind to give her the jolt she needed to start her day. As the blaring alarm rang quarter past 6, Sujatha sprang to her feet and forced herself straight into the kitchen where Lata, her mother had already begun chopping drumsticks for their morning breakfast of idli with sambar.
Sujatha brewed coffee for Vijayan, her father, waiting impatiently for it, seated on an old chair at the veranda, and reading a newspaper.
Sujatha was raised in a conservative family, which followed traditional values. It required her to adopt the 'ways of the women' in the family, by subduing her true self that sought freedom to express her innermost desires. At an early age of 14, her father had taught her how ‘good women’ behave, and how cooking delicious food helps one find a successful groom in the community.
She walked towards the veranda with a coffee in her hand -
‘Appa, coffee,’ she addressed her father with a smile.
‘Keep it on the table. You were late last night!’
‘Yeah, I had to complete my pending work assignments. I still have a lot more to do.’
He lowered his newspaper and stared at her through his glasses –
‘Whatever you have, you should be home by 8 pm. Women should not be late like this. Don’t you know it is unsafe? You have a 4-year-old son! Don’t forget that. ’
‘But Appa, my manager had dropped me home last night. I didn’t come on my own,’ replied Sujatha in a soft tone of voice without willing to incur her father’s wrath.
‘You could take a bus instead!’ was his immediate remark. ’ Anyway, your scooter is back from the workshop for you to take tomorrow!’
Sujatha nodded her assent and went inside. While walking towards her room, she overheard a faint conversation of Vijayan asking his wife if their daughter had uploaded her details on a divorcee matrimonial website, as recommended by him.
‘She didn’t. She needs time to settle down,’ replied a worried Lata.
‘What does she think she would do with a child? Why can’t she listen to us?’ asked Vijayan with an annoyed look. ‘It was not necessary to ask him for a divorce. We could have helped him meet a good doctor to fix his problems.’
Not willing to let her father’s ignorance bog her down, she went to her son Bidyut, who was yet to wake up.
‘Ajju, wakeup mone, mamma needs to go soon today. Get ready; go brush your teeth.’
Bidyut woke up from his deep sleep and pleaded his mother to allow him some time.
‘No! Enough! You are going right now.’ Sujatha exclaimed moving hurriedly to finish all her morning chores. She cooked lunch for her son, and then moved towards getting herself ready for the day.
While she stood in front of the mirror to groom her hair, a deep sense of despair struck her. Her cheerful face reminded her of the high school days when the boys would flock around her in an attempt to get a slice of her attention. She would pay no heed to such attempts as her inclination had always been towards men who averted her. The boys who had no time for a beautiful girl like Sujatha were the ones who aroused subtle curiosity in her. But then, she wouldn’t have known that she would eventually marry such a man and have a remorseful life.
A Day in the life of Sujatha
Part 1
As the slanting rays of the sun fell across her face forcing itself through the old wooden window, Sujatha woke up to a new day quite unwillingly. Her eyelids still not wanting to depart each other, it looked more like a choice made to avoid facing the painful realities. She gently nudged, Bidyut, her 4-year-old son to wake up who had burrowed himself in his blanket beside her. She sat for a moment letting the thoughts of her incomplete project work run through her mind to give her the jolt she needed to start her day. As the blaring alarm rang quarter past 6, Sujatha sprang to her feet and forced herself straight into the kitchen where Lata, her mother had already begun chopping drumsticks for their morning breakfast of idli with sambar.
Sujatha brewed coffee for Vijayan, her father, waiting impatiently for it, seated on an old chair at the veranda, and reading a newspaper.
Sujatha was raised in a conservative family, which followed traditional values. It required her to adopt the 'ways of the women' in the family, by subduing her true self that sought freedom to express her innermost desires. At an early age of 14, her father had taught her how ‘good women’ behave, and how cooking delicious food helps one find a successful groom in the community.
She walked towards the veranda with a coffee in her hand -
‘Appa, coffee,’ she addressed her father with a smile.
‘Keep it on the table. You were late last night!’
‘Yeah, I had to complete my pending work assignments. I still have a lot more to do.’
He lowered his newspaper and stared at her through his glasses –
‘Whatever you have, you should be home by 8 pm. Women should not be late like this. Don’t you know it is unsafe? You have a 4-year-old son! Don’t forget that. ’
‘But Appa, my manager had dropped me home last night. I didn’t come on my own,’ replied Sujatha in a soft tone of voice without willing to incur her father’s wrath.
‘You could take a bus instead!’ was his immediate remark. ’ Anyway, your scooter is back from the workshop for you to take tomorrow!’
Sujatha nodded her assent and went inside. While walking towards her room, she overheard a faint conversation of Vijayan asking his wife if their daughter had uploaded her details on a divorcee matrimonial website, as recommended by him.
‘She didn’t. She needs time to settle down,’ replied a worried Lata.
‘What does she think she would do with a child? Why can’t she listen to us?’ asked Vijayan with an annoyed look. ‘It was not necessary to ask him for a divorce. We could have helped him meet a good doctor to fix his problems.’
Not willing to let her father’s ignorance bog her down, she went to her son Bidyut, who was yet to wake up.
‘Ajju, wakeup mone, mamma needs to go soon today. Get ready; go brush your teeth.’
Bidyut woke up from his deep sleep and pleaded his mother to allow him some time.
‘No! Enough! You are going right now.’ Sujatha exclaimed moving hurriedly to finish all her morning chores. She cooked lunch for her son, and then moved towards getting herself ready for the day.
While she stood in front of the mirror to groom her hair, a deep sense of despair struck her. Her cheerful face reminded her of the high school days when the boys would flock around her in an attempt to get a slice of her attention. She would pay no heed to such attempts as her inclination had always been towards men who averted her. The boys who had no time for a beautiful girl like Sujatha were the ones who aroused subtle curiosity in her. But then, she wouldn’t have known that she would eventually marry such a man and have a remorseful life.
#review #freenix
Part 2
A Day in the life of Sujatha
Sujatha reached her office parking lot and ran towards her floor to login. Once inside, she started her work assignment that had to be completed on priority.
Dhruv, her team leader who had dropped her home last night ‘coincidentally’ seemed to have arrived sooner.
Dhruv had been working with Sujatha for a couple of years. A mildly reserved and hardworking person Dhruv had very little interests in his life and one of them happened to be admiring Sujatha. He had a liking towards her from the day she joined the organisation as a senior associate. This gradually took the shape of a very intense infatuation, partly due to the fantasies he has had with her in his mind. However, he kept his feelings to himself knowing she was a married woman. He would often make excuses to have a prolonged conversation with Sujatha inside and outside the office.
‘Hey Sujatha, can we go for a coffee break? Cafeteria is open now’ asked Dhruv meekly
‘No Dhruv, I have a lot of work piled up and need to complete this by the end of the day’
A visibly hurt Dhruv mustered some courage and said, ‘Come on! 10 minutes in the cafeteria would not impact your work so much.’
Dhruv had known of the recent divorce petition filed by Sujatha through Maria, her close friend who she used to confide in. Upon learning it, he had gone to her with a flower and few words of consolation wanting to look thoughtful and caring; however, Sujatha had not been very pleased with his approach. She wanted this information to be private and had cursed Maria for having shared it with him.
Dhruv stood there awaiting a response from her
Sujatha paused herself for a moment, and then with a confused expression said ‘Let’s go.’
Part 2
A Day in the life of Sujatha
Sujatha reached her office parking lot and ran towards her floor to login. Once inside, she started her work assignment that had to be completed on priority.
Dhruv, her team leader who had dropped her home last night ‘coincidentally’ seemed to have arrived sooner.
Dhruv had been working with Sujatha for a couple of years. A mildly reserved and hardworking person Dhruv had very little interests in his life and one of them happened to be admiring Sujatha. He had a liking towards her from the day she joined the organisation as a senior associate. This gradually took the shape of a very intense infatuation, partly due to the fantasies he has had with her in his mind. However, he kept his feelings to himself knowing she was a married woman. He would often make excuses to have a prolonged conversation with Sujatha inside and outside the office.
‘Hey Sujatha, can we go for a coffee break? Cafeteria is open now’ asked Dhruv meekly
‘No Dhruv, I have a lot of work piled up and need to complete this by the end of the day’
A visibly hurt Dhruv mustered some courage and said, ‘Come on! 10 minutes in the cafeteria would not impact your work so much.’
Dhruv had known of the recent divorce petition filed by Sujatha through Maria, her close friend who she used to confide in. Upon learning it, he had gone to her with a flower and few words of consolation wanting to look thoughtful and caring; however, Sujatha had not been very pleased with his approach. She wanted this information to be private and had cursed Maria for having shared it with him.
Dhruv stood there awaiting a response from her
Sujatha paused herself for a moment, and then with a confused expression said ‘Let’s go.’