My Ramblings

She crumpled the paper and made it into a paper-ball, threw it casually. Her eyes were still stuck at the notepad,  at the impression of the words from the page above which she had just rolled into a paper-ball.  That paper-ball alongwith all the other paper-balls that she had been throwing for an hour had unconsciously made into a honeycomb lay arranged on the ground.  Her phone started ringing. The caller id said, “Sheila”. She did  appear  a bit mortified on seeing her name but then she let it go to her voice-mail. It has been long since she had started dodging her agent’s call. Every time she would call, she would mock her voice and complete the conversation that would have taken place while Sheila chatted with her voice-mail. “Annie, you are late. You were supposed to send me the draft by today morning”. “I know Sheila, I just got stuck with some work. Only the last bit is pending. I’ll send it to you by tomorrow morning.”    She knew ...

Life’s  short. I’m scared, But you know. Can’t keep running But can’t let it run out. Dreams too many, Many rungs To vanquish. Loneliness, Darkness may overwhelm. Just don’t give up on us. Courtesy :  fineartphotographysite.com ______________________________________________________ This is my response to the  Trifecta  weekly challenge, which is to write a 33 word confession. A cool prompt, isn't?

She could see the brown cloud from the glasses in her car. She knew she had to rush back before it actually started raining. For some pedantic reason, she hated the rains. The petichor, the greenery, the big fat drops on the grasses on her lawn would evince the distaste she had for them; give her butterflies in stomach, everytime it would rain.  But, her car broke down 200 metres from her house and it started raining already.  Those round, fat drops kept hitting her windscreen. She had switched on the wipers and kept waiting for it to get over. Even though she kept looking outside for anyone to help her, none could be seen on roads guess they must have forecasted the rains and were already lying cozy on their couches enjoying the lousy rains. The wait seemed forever. So, she ran and took shelter under a tree. Her house was in a visible range. So, she decided she would take turn hiding under the trees with a plastic bag above her head to avoid those rain drops falling on ...

He could topple, Nerve taut. Still the Swagger, he flaunted. Proud underneath. Thought he blended in. But, a paradigm at its best, It was. To spare him the sympathy Or pity was it?   __________________________________________________________ This is my response to the    Trifecta  weekend prompt:   This weekend we are asking for exactly 33 words, 30 of your own and three of the following:  topple     paradigm     underneath     nerve     honey     loop.

He knew not how to respond, The wait had made him unsure. The reality could be distorted, But he was convinced. Slapped, beaten was he; But the tears had him strong. Nobody could con the truth in his eyes. No love was free. The only thing his was the fumbling. His melancholy rippling over that piano. Never thought it struck her heart too. Bull’s eye was it? Still unconvinced, he walked towards her. Too good to be true. A Dream with sun shining on his head. But, a mother knows her child. The disbelief gleaning in his eyes, Set to break the hypocrisy of it. But hers had waited so long. She just couldn't fail him. Again. “Oh My Dear, come to your mother. Sorry for the wait so long. Devils had me chained.” The deliberate attempt she made. “Shackled your mother had been away. But now she's free. Unfettered, to never leave again. To take you home", p romised she. And no longer orphan he was! _________...

Those cherry-blossoms had always reminded her of her home. Even after they had brought her the life of misery but they seemed to carry the essence of homeliness, harbinger of some good ol’ times. After all, George had proposed her to marry him … under one of those cherry blossoms! But, this was all 6 years ago. And, she was revisiting the town again. It took her a lot of courage to finally think of going back. She was convinced she needed the kind of closure to put her life back on tracks. After all, it was not her fault! When George, the one person that she had chosen for her, the only person for whom she went against her parents, left her at the altar with an excuse that he was not in love with her anymore; she could feel the crippling eye-balls on her, slicing her right through her heart and she could not even raise her eyes. She could not defend her then.  But, it was 6 years ago. She reached Longville after long journey of 7 hours. The town hadn’t changed much while she h...

Since her childhood, she had been very brave. Unlike the other kids who would cry on seeing the first palette of blood she would press her wound hard and let it ooze faster. She somehow reveled in the blood-y flow, as if some witch was trying to purge a part of her soul and she had surrendered completely to it. Every time she would cut herself, she would wait for the gush and wish it never stopped and drenched her to the last drop. Always surprised listening to the wonders of being related by blood, she would ask herself if those blood-kins had blood any thicker, because she was sure hers must have thinned. Every time she would see a girl walking by along with his father giggling, happy, she would turn around and blade herself wishing she could change the blood flowing inside her. It was her blood’s fault if not hers; she was convinced. She even dreamt of getting fanged by the vampires. Looking for solace at any place,  she surmised who better than those kindred spirits in ...

~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~ This is my response to Trifecta’s weekend prompt: This weekend we’re having some fun with the prompt, some super-powered fun, that is. We’re asking you to write the origin story to the superhero of your choice in exactly 33 words. I was so confused who to write about. I had so many of those qualities in mind. But, I mentioned only the best I had liked. May look out of place, but 33 words were too cruel this time.  This is my SUPER-Man!  ~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~ Tormented past, never complained. Didn’t know he could save then. Thus the Growl. Sketched the tormentor Like a Marionette. Which he then hung upside-down. Never uttered anything ill, So words had Midas touch.