Posted in Random Thoughts

Little Things | Shaily Agrawal

Hey All! My piece was published on Whispers and Echoes eMagazine.

sammicoxwriter's avatarWhispers and Echoes

I had always been like thatโ€“

Building shrines

For dead butterflies,

And visiting

With the freshest flowers.

You had been like that too,

Loving me for little things,

Until you grew up

And I didnโ€™t.


Shaily Agrawal is a small-town Indian and a working mother. Her skewed perspective is apparent through her stories on her blog:ย https://fishinthetrees.home.blog/ย You can read her first short story collection, The Forest Bed on Amazon Kindle.

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Posted in Random Thoughts

Am I Evil?

Last night around 11, we heard a hair-raising screach of car tyres in the narrow lane outside my house, followed by a loud thud. We ran towards the windows facing the main road. The car had ended against the electric pole across the road.

My first thought was, “Is that a learner who pushed the accelerator too hard? Is he even an adult?”

Smell of burnt tyres filled the air and a whiff of smoke rose from the car front. No one stirred out. The next thought was, “Is he dead?”

As I itched to run out and help them, the family of the car’s passenger (who live at the end of the long lane) ran into the scene. The shouting that ensued confirmed my worst fear–the driver and co-passenger had been drinking in the car. My will to help died right away.

That pole could have been me or my child!

Of course, they have the right to risk their own lives–they can hang themselves from a fan if they want. They don’t have the right over my family though.

The policeman in the area alerted the driver to remove the bottles of alcohol and go home before the police car arrived and checked him for a breath analyzer test. The owner will get his insurance money and buy a new car soon for a repeat performance. Apparently, he’s not new to all this and this drunk driving will go on until someone dies. I hope it is him.

Does that make me evil?

Posted in Poetry

Lantern: Hope

Storm

rocks my

paper ship–

drenched, not drowned–

ever.


Author’s note: Lantern is a type of descriptive poetry from Japan that follows the syllable structure of one, two, three, four and one syllables per line to shape a lantern when the words are centered to middle.

Posted in Reblog

Dogs & Consent โ€” The Thinking Dog

All in? Have you ever picked up a small dog or a puppy? (Of course you have!) Did you ask for their consent first? The first time I really thought about dogs consenting was when I read Gregory Bernsโ€™ How Dogs Love Us. He was very careful to ensure that all the dogs participating inย [โ€ฆ]

Dogs & Consent โ€” The Thinking Dog

As someone who loves and is popular with dogs, I agree with this article by Pam. I would never pet a dog without their consent. But what does consent mean in doggie language? Read the short article.

Posted in Fiction, Nature stories

My Housemates: The Mistreated

And just like that, they’ve thrown me out…

When I was brought home, everybody had rushed out to fawn over me. Ever since, it was all the way downhill for me. For years, I was the most abused creature in existence–people walked all over me. They threw things at me without faintest sign of remorse. In fact, one rainy day, when water seeped in from the windows, I was left to shiver in cold. Nobody thought of mopping me up until the next morning!

Now that I am old and frayed at the edges, they’ve left me out for the garbage truck to pick up. Life is so unfair!

Posted in Nature stories

My Neighbour: The Conservative

It is slightly stuffy but it is home and I love it. There is a lot of room to walk around and food hangs from the sealing everywhere. It is rather dark for the lack of sunlight, but who needs to see anyway. It is unsafe on the surface, what with all the sunlight and the monsters that roam the earth. I hardly go up except when stormwater floods the tunnels. My life is quiet but safe. It’s a lonely existence but company is overrated.

She wanted a ‘life of adventure’. I had assumed she would see the fault in her ways and return to our molehill. Afterall, who likes to eat from dustbins when they can get fresh roots? But…

Sometimes, I walk to where my tunnel runs beneath the nest she built with an uncouth rat and hear the soft pattering of little feet that are her proginy. Those are the moments when I wonder if a life of adventure wasn’t as bad.

I guess, I’d never find out.

Posted in Fiction

The Plan

How much time would it take to build a coffin by hand?

He wasn’t fond of the job but, atleast, he will have one when he dies…soon, considering it was one of the last trees on Earth. So far, he had recharged his Oxygen cylinder using the tree that lived in his yard for the past 57 years but storm uprooted it last night. He wasn’t rich enough to afford buying Oxygen…

Even if the coffin is ready on time, who will lay him in it? Everyone he knew was already dead. Should he lower it in a grave and hop in while waiting for his cylinder to empty?

Who will cover it with soil?


Photo by Jeremy Hynes on Unsplash