Can You See My Fingers Bleed?

I was planning to write poetry or fiction for some challenge today and here I am, sitting, staring at my laptop screen with my vision getting blurred every few seconds. I wipe my eyes with my already damp hands and start staring at the screen again. I feel an urge to hug my laptop right now or kiss it. And I feel an urge to go out for a walk in the woods with my laptop and never come back to my real world.

I have got the best friends, brothers and sisters here with the help of this little box, a machine. Who knew machines would be understanding feelings more than humans, someday ? Technological advancement or Humanity decline ? I know If I’d cry right now, there would be someone sitting right beside their computer ready to embrace me with their words. I know if I’d share my darkest feelings and the most strange emotions there would be people understanding these without judging me.

Unknown people who have no idea who am I and where I belong, what my country, cast and religion is. People who just know that there is some soul out there, craving for their sympathetic words. Craving for the Love that real world failed to give it. Craving for the care that everyone wants, but doesn’t get it. Craving for someone who could listen, just listen to what it had to say. To listen to the rants of a restless soul.

The time I spent crying while laying in the dark, for 20 years is spent writing now. My fingers dance on the keyboard of this very old model, slow laptop and ‘words’ come out along with the silent tears. My tears cried for 20 years and it is time to give them some rest while I let my fingers cry out loud. There is a difference, no one listened to my crying tears but now everyone listens to my bleeding fingers.

No matter how hopeless and depressed my real life is, my virtual life is awesome. I got to understand life, happiness and care –  The strange words which don’t exist in my real life dictionary. In this life, I am not a depressed bipolar soul….I am the queen of my world, my blog ! I walk here with pride, that my real life can’t snatch away from me. This is my world…The people here are my friends…My beloved online community is the best thing I have….And I am grateful for everything this virtual world has offered me.

Words can’t express my gratitude and Love but my tears can. And I know you can see my fingers bleed, while reading my wounded words.

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Linking to Daily Prompt and Dungeon Prompts : Community. Head over to Speak Easy to vote for my story “Waiting for a dead promise” If you like it. Do read and vote for other awesome submissions too.

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Cyclic Inception

Credits :
Credits : Thomas Leuthar

Life ‘Inception’

                    Riddle wrapped in Enigma

                                          Prehistoric pen shrieks

                                                                            Echoing Like

                                                                                              Tunnels in Labyrinth

                                                                                                                       Reflecting tales of illusions

                                                                                              Time follows the quest

                                                                             Of Unreachable stars

                                              Struggles and failures

                      Bleed into Hope

The cycle Continues.

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This 33 words piece is written for Trifecta Challenge. The challenge this week was to write a 33 words response to the Picture given. Click on the Badge to read other beautiful entries.

Waiting For A Dead Promise

11
Credits : This

It starts with a heavy pinpoint, sharp, deep in the middle of my heart. As I read Mic’s letter, it swells and blooms, licks like fire through my veins.

It’s a cold windy day and I’m at the window table trying to read the first letter he sent me. At least that is what I should be doing but I spend more time watching the dry leaves clattering across the sidewalk.

I sat here daily, for twenty years with a shotgun in hand. That shotgun is replaced by letters now.

He said, “I’d come back to you no matter what happens”.

I promised him, “I’ll wait for you, forever”

It’s growing dark and the streets are already empty. It has been a chilly, depressing day. I could hear howling wind and one long, repeated call — a bird perhaps.

The feeling I felt then, was love underneath, but it was wrapped in something hard and cold and perpetual.

Death.

Death has followed me for 40 years. Death came for my father first, it sputtered him out like a spent candle. I was seven then. 10 years later it took my mother. Everything I ever loved was gone with the tilt and flare of a scented candle against a curtain. Since then, I resolved never to put myself in a situation that could shatter the way my childhood did. The only way to avoid death was to run.

It worked perfectly for nine years until I met Mic. I felt life exuding from him, surging and bright. For a moment I was certain Death must be looking elsewhere. It stirred at my shoulder, tickled my ear, reminded me it was watching, waiting, poised to poison anyone I opened my heart to.

Everyday little letters from Mic, yellow envelopes addressed in green pen, would wait for me. I replied back, I told him about my father, my mother. About Death on my shoulder.

That day, I was woken from a lay-in by a tentative knock at the door. It was Mic. I was overwhelmed, frozen. He dived at me, wrapped his arms around me. My heartbeats were so golden and warm Death didn’t stand a chance.

You can’t keep him… Death whispered, nervous. Run, before it hurts.

It offered me it’s most enthusiastic ‘contrafibularities‘ that could never be defined just as death could never be defined.

I smiled. And said yes to Mic’s proposal. Because I thought Death couldn’t catch either of us if we’d run together.

The shrill call comes again, thin, high, and mournful. What kind of bird calls like that? Something is out there.

The wind is tapping branches against the window. I look out but see nothing. Dusk is falling but the street lamps are not on yet. Then I see a tiny movement right under my window. Something is crouching below the marigold bushes. A hurt bird, perhaps?

After they reported Mic dead, I began to keep the shotgun next to the front door.

I’d sit for hours beside my window table staring outside, thinking that the day he’d return, reeking of decay, I’d run a finger down the barrel of the shotgun, propped beside me.

“Thank you for coming. I waited for you” I’d say.

“I promised.” He’d smile under the bullet hole they would have put through his forehead. Dried blood would flake off of his eyelid when he’d blink.

“I’m not coming with you,” I’d say.

“Death has done us part. Let it join us together once again.” He’d say.

“I have decided to fight against it” I’d tell him.

I drape myself in a warm brown shawl and open the door to see what that thing is.

A small bundle of grey fur, a tiny kitten, hope ? almost lost in the gloom. It meows, a thin, desperate sound.

When I pick it up, it is ice cold and I can feel every vertebrae. It’s nothing but a skeleton. I look out for any scratches or bites, she was safe. I take it into the warmth and give her milk. It opens great green eyes and looks at me. It rumbles in an attempt to purr. After a while it curls up in my lap.

Some people don’t understand the promises they’re making when they make them, he can’t blame me for breaking mine. Before moving on, for twenty years, with a shotgun in my hand, I sat there and waited, but he never came back.

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Okay I’m in love with the zombie apocalypse, the idea fascinates me so much. I’m sorry if it disgusts you 😉 The story is written about the time when zombies would be somehow sensible, they’d actually remember things rather than just “Brains”.

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More or less 740 words story written for speakeasy. The challenge this time was to use, “I sat there and waited, but he never came back” as the last line and give some kind of reference to  a scene from the British comedy show,  Blackadder the Third. Hope you enjoyed. Click on the badge to see detailed rules and other entries on Tuesday.

Love, Coffee And Lavender Truffles

I-love-coffee
Credit:: THIS

“I’ve spent years chasing the tail of my darkness; the same darkness that has once again blurred my vision”, Harry thought, as he lay the phone in its cradle. He’d been expecting this news in quite the same way you expect winter to follow autumn. But just as you can never prepare yourself for bone-chilling winds, you can never prepare your heart for the loss. Poor Ron. His voice had been shaking as he gave Harry the news that Hermione was gone.

Harry cupped his mug of coffee in both hands and sunk into the chair trying to distract his thoughts.The warmth of coffee mug seeped into his fingers as he clutched it and gazed at the deep brown liquid. He wished Ginny had made this coffee. She always had a way of choosing just the right amount of ground coffee beans to use. Since Ginny died after thirty years of passing out from Hogwarts, he never had been to that coffee shop they used to visit together. The coffee shop smelled of musk with a hint of cinnamon that was too close to Ginny’s essence.

He squinted out the window and caught a glimpse of the sun.  He felt a vague sense of whiplash witnessing a sunny day knowing that the earth travels at thirty kilometers per second in its daily trek around the sun and spins zero point five kilometers around its own axis. He remembered Ginny teasing him with all those magic spells when he would spout the mathematical trivia.

Shifting in his chair, he tried to focus his eyes on  Paul Cézanne’s painting ‘The Card Players’ that Ginny had hung on the wall of their lounge three years ago.  The painting looked like it was drowning as his tears welled.  His mind kept straying back to Ron’s call.

Hermione. Her presence on the planet had always been enough for him; it didn’t matter that they weren’t together. They spent her birthdays together every year and he had fulfilled her every wish silently in the form of birthday gifts. Six years in Hogwarts and six birthdays, one year for every day it takes the moon to orbit the earth with a speed of 3680 km/hr.

He recalled one of her birthdays when he took her to The Wonderland following the footsteps of Alice. He had allowed himself to swim, just for a few minutes, in the depths of her azure eyes making a straight angle of 180 degrees that day. They wandered there all day meeting the king and queen of hearts, Mother bird, Mary Ann and white rabbit, all her favorite characters and they celebrated her birthday with special lavender truffles that were made of rich dark chocolate infused with lavender and cardamom and some flavors of hot chocolate.

Even though she only glanced over her shoulder when he took her back to Hogwarts, he waited. And hoped, like the forever unknown ‘x’.  But two months later, Hermione and Ron announced their engagement and Harry knew he waited in vain.  He mustered his strength to achieve an escape velocity. With time as he settled into his new trajectory around Ginny, he felt Hermione’s gravitational pull for long.

But now Hermione had succumbed to the cancer that had been wreaking havoc on her for five years. Memories:  that’s all he would have of her now.  Maybe that’s all he ever had.

He pushed his chair away from the table and decided to get ready. He had to meet Miss J. K Rowling to make a quick apology and he was sure that she’d forgive him.

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Note: The characters Harry, Ron and Hermione are JUST characters. I took these names because their background history was already clear to you. You can take them as characters of Harry Potter OR some other people who studied in Hogwarts, choice is your’s but please don’t read this story as a continuity to the Harry Potter stories.

This is my 598 words response to the Speakeasy weekly writing prompt, which is to write a piece in 750 or less words  (1) using “I have spent years chasing the tail of my darkness.” as the first sentence, and (2) make some reference to the art prompt, The Card Players, one of a series of paintings by Paul Cézanne.

The challenge is open to anyone, so if you’re inspired, click the badge below to check out the challenge details!

 

Cannibal

cannibal_butchery_by_joeytheberzerker-d5b91sz
Source: Joycreations.

His sharp knife pierced through the flesh and cut it to pieces at a single jerk. It was the lower part of a leg. Upper part was already cut. A head smoothly cut apart from the neck was laying at a corner of the table. Small pieces about the size of 3 inches each were arranged along the sides. After cutting the leg into similar pieces he put them along with the others.

Then he leaned towards the head and pulled out the eyes, one by one with the tip of his knife. He saved the eyes in a small glass bowl and licked the stains on his fingers.

After that,he pulled in some air, grabbed a big bucket in both his hands and started pouring a viscous red fluid into the bottles, one by one. When all the bottles got filled, he closed the lids tightly and put them one by one in the lower shelf of his almost empty fridge, a single half filled bottle of this red fluid was already lying there. Head was placed on the first shelf and finely cut meat pieces went on the middle ones.

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He opened his eyes while laying under the blue sky and green grass midst a row of long trees. After his blur vision got clear he realized that he was present in an alien place. Wiping off his hands he stood up.

The last thing that was saved in his vivid memory was a fight with her mom and he ran away from home after that. “It’s been two days, she must be worried for me” He thought to himself, setting the school bag on his shoulder.

He gazed for a while at a light shining far away at the end of the long road and followed it. It was coming out from a bulb hung on the roof of a small wood house. He knocked at the door and pushed it inside.

The door opened with a sharp squeak. He glanced inside, a man was sitting on a chair. A glass half filled with a red viscous fluid was lying on the table in front of him. “Can I come inside?”

An evil smile occupied his face. “Yes kid, come in !” He said in a heavy voice and locked the door behind him.

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Daily Prompt:show us CLOSE.

This story is written for Write on Edge. This challenge gives us two options, whether to write about the quote or about the photo. I chose the photo. Click on the badge to see complete guidelines and to participate.

Twinkle Twinkle O’ Little Star

A story dedicated to my family where the number of mentally abnormal children is increasing due to the trend of Cousin marriages. Story is inspired by my cousin, a girl who is 20 year’s old physically but her mind is like a small child’s mind. Scenes pictured here are fictional but the facts discussed are real.

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Get-By-With-Friends-Help-May-2012
Image Source : This.

“Colors – red, green and blue mixing with each other. Green color is at the top of red now. Red is busy mixing with blue”

“How can you guarantee that in future your daughter’s children would be normal when her own sister is abnormal?”

Silence – followed by tears.

“Sorry we can’t allow the relationship of my son with your daughter. He will find someone else”

“Colors – Red is at the top now. It has dissolved blue and green in it”

Sound of a slap followed by mournful cries.

“Colors transformed to black . Painful black”

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“She slapped me yesterday, My own sister. I won’t talk to her now. She thinks I can’t feel the pain but it hurts. She is not good and oh the cat finally ate the mouse” She thought to herself and giggled.

Her sister who was siting right beside her, eyes on TV and mind strolling somewhere else glanced at her, giggling. She felt a volcano of love bursting in her heart and a sense of regret mixed with embarrassment seized her.

“What was I thinking while slapping her yesterday? She is innocent, that’s not her fault that no one wants to Marry me” She dragged herself closer to her and kissed her on the cheek softly.

“I am sorry my love. You can’t speak but I know you are angry at me” She hugged her and burst into tears.

“I love my sister, she is so sweet. She loves me so much” She thought to herself while enjoying the cartoons again.

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“A heavy burden on my heart don’t let me sleep at nights”

“What burden Mom?”

“You know sweetheart your sister is a special child. Our society don’t accept her as a normal child. People think she is crazy and she should be in a mental hospital. How can I send my innocent girl to a mental hospital?”

Each tear falling from her Mother’s eyes was dropping in her own heart – her eyes flooded with tears.

“Some things can’t be forgotten and this very thought keep spooking me all the time that What will happen to my daughter when me and your dad will be no more in this world”

“Please don’t Mom. Please stop” She begged her and the room reverberated with the sound of their sobs.

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“Colors – butterflies – stars – lights – children, beautiful children – I want to play”

With this thought she ran towards small children playing in the kids area in a fast food restaurant while her Mom was buying Ice cream for her.

She looked around, her daughter was standing beside some children who were gathered in a corner with expressions of fear and anger on their faces.

She ran towards her. A woman said “I don’t mean to offend you but please make sure she stays home. Our children just got scared”

She grabbed her hand and took her to the car without saying anything, eyes directed downward with embarrassment.

Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes

And she’s gone

Lucy in the sky with diamonds

Music was blending with her sobs.

She put her head on her Mother’s shoulder and spoke in a soft voice, “Ma ! Sor-r-ry”

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Many beautiful special children in colorful dresses were standing on the stage in a circle. She was there too laughing, sitting inside the circle wearing a fancy fish dress. A wheel chair was lying at one corner of the stage with a small cute girl sitting in it.

Hall was filled with people. Parents of special children occupied the front rows.

The girl in the wheel chair spoke:

“We are like a fish in the tank. The sun heats the glass to boiling, setting us on fire. The moon freezes it to ice, trapping us in unbearable cold. Tapping vibrates the glass, tearing at our ears and flesh. It is agonizing and exhilarating and enthralling. Don’t be like the sun and the Moon people. Be like the glass that protects us and like the water that keeps us alive…….We feel joy and pain equally like you feel. Your words and actions hurt us people. Treat us with care. We need your love”

And the hall echoed with the sound of applause. People stood on their chairs, tears shining in their eyes.

“I wish my daughter gets a chance to live a normal life like everyone else here” She thought to herself while wiping her tears.

Image Source : This.
Image Source : This.

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This 720 words story is written for The Speak Easy Challenge. If you like this story, Don’t forget to come back on Thursday to vote. Click on this image to read other entries and detailed guidelines.

On Her Birthday

couple_in_the_rain_by_skmaster666-d5nqfjl

Whatever’ was the reaction of your Mom when I first proposed her, but I didn’t stop trying” Speaking in a soft low voice he seemed to be lost in thick layers of mist while travelling down the memory lane.

My heart will go on…… The song was playing in the background. She was working as usual, I was looking at her as usual. It was the third time when I planned to propose her, I was serious this time.

It was the same day, the day of her birthday. I asked her to come out, she did. It was raining. Rain drops were shimmering on her glowing skin. I came closer and took out a diamond ring from red velvet box. Her face expressions changed. I sat on my knee, moved up my hand with the diamond ring and said, Marry Me M’Love“.

She leaned some steps backward. The shine on her face turned pale. I got worried. She never reacted like that. She was nodding her head sideways and she started walking, turning her back on me. She wanted to hide her tears, I noticed them dissolving in the rain drops.

I ran after her, grabbed her hand from behind and pulled her towards myself.

Why? You have to give me a reason today“.

She looked into my eyes for some seconds and her voice quivered as she spoke, “I am at the last stage of cancer

The world paused. My heart forgot beating. My breaths were stuck in my throat.

She gave a dull smile and said, “I expected the same“.

I stepped forward, pulled out the ring, slipped it into her finger and said, “My Love for you is beyond any expectations“.

She died on her birthday two years after our marriage.

Sometimes she’d say to me, “You are my pride. Your Love gives me strength. I can die peacefully in your Love’s embrace”

His tears fell on the birthday cake in his hands as he blew off the candle.

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This 333 words story is written for Trifecta Challenge. This week’s task was to use the third definition of WHATEVER in a story of words between 33 and 333. Voting here starts on Friday, so if you liked my story don’t forget to vote.