‘Twiddling your thumbs’ has a new name. It is called ‘texting’.
Haunted
Have you ever felt ‘it’?
Like the ancient curses of the pharaohs, the multitude of explanations for the hysteria and hallucinations of those who have spent extended time in old houses far outweighs the possibility of the paranormal. Drafts and cold spots from wind finding its way through rotting walls, illness caused by mold or gases caught in rusty pipes, strange noises triggered by the introduction of a foreign body into a delicately balanced ecosystem, or simply the habitation of a stray cat or nesting pigeon: I had yet to find a symptom without a cause. Still, each new investigation began with the hope that this time I would find the exception to the rule. As I gazed up at the house, perched on its tree-covered hill like a vulture eyeing its prey, the familiar tingle of possibility crept up my spine.
A century of abandonment had clawed the flesh from it until only bare…
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Speak up!
I was new.
He made me sit close. I avoided him.
Next party, he cracked an indecent joke at my expense. I stayed quiet.
He became my boss. I wouldn’t laugh at his jokes in meetings. He killed my appraisal several times.
An year later, a girl reported the same plight. He was kicked out.
I wish that girl was me.
Speak up!
The Apple of Discord: The Hunter
Being the Queen’s favourite has its perks and the food at my home is an ode to the fact that I owe her everything I have. For years, I have hunted animals and humans alike.
This child has seen only seven seasons, that too while living in rags and mopping the castle floor. She is a princess who has been lower than a servant. Today, when I brought her to the forest, she was overjoyed. She’s singing to the birds as she plucks wildflowers for a garland. My daughter does the same.
Today, she says, is the best day of her life. I know better. Not sure what wrong she has done and why the queen is against her. But I am just a soldier, a tool to kill all those who displease the crown. The queen desires the little girl dead and her wish is my command. Yet, my hand shakes today as I clutch the hilt of my sword.
No way can I kill her but I cannot take her back and risk the queen’s wrath.
I pull out my sword with shaking hands and call her to look at me. She looks at me with scared doe-eyes and pleading silently. My sword lowers on its own, as if I’ve lost all my strength.
I yell, “Your mother wants you dead. Run away before I kill you!”
In my heart, I plead, “Run away before I give up and return you to the castle, to the step-mother who’d kill you anyway. Run away before I stop being a monster and become a traitor to the crown.”
I watch as she runs deep in the forest; glad I didn’t have to kill her; afraid she’d die alone. I hunt a boar and take his heart to the monster in the castle as a proof of Snowdrop’s death, hoping she won’t find out the truth before I move my family to another town.
I wonder why I ever thought she is beautiful.
Photo by Ricardo Cruz on Unsplash
One Night Stand
All day, I wait for the night to return
When her long fingers caress me
And light the very fabric of my being.
Her silhouette in the dark room’s door
is the fire to my core.
I watch her every move
as she lies down next to me
with a sigh,
Her dreamy eyes closed to the world,
she smiles.
I sigh too, knowing too well,
My heart would never get over her,
No matter how many years go by.
Of course, she doesn’t understand
how I feel because, for her,
I’m just a night stand.
June 23rd, 2006
This is worth a read!
The following was transcribed from an audio file discovered by the Tucumcari Highway Patrol on June 23rd, 2006.
Unknown Speaker, female (US):
It’s a long drive back, so I thought I’d get this down while it’s still fresh in my mind. Honestly, it was a huge waste of time. What is it with whackos and trailer parks?
[sighs]
Alright, I’ll try to keep this official for the archives. The date is, uh, June 16th, 2003. We received a call three days ago on the hotline about some unusual activity in New Mexico. The caller wouldn’t go into specifics, one of those “won’t talk on the phone, you never know who might be listening” types. So, I drove down from Chicago.
Turns out the town was a dustbowl: trailer park, convenience store with a fifty-year-old gas pump, and one stop sign which was apparently optional.
I met…
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500 posts, 350 followers
Some where in the middle of my back injury and, later, neck injury and, office work, I missed a couple of very important milestones: 500 posts and 350+ WP followers. YEEEEEEEEE!
I can also boast of 12 K views and nearly 5600 visitors. Thank you!
Your love has humbled me. I wish I had ways to allow everyone to comment on my blog and not just WP followers. As I always say, Every comment matters. It shows me ways to improve. So, let me know if you don’t like something. I don’t mind an open discussion. I am ready to be converted to your ways of thinking as long as your point can buy me in.
Just let me know. Keep following, keep reading so I can continue writing for you. 😀
Deep Within
I sit in the class
with all my best friends
laughing at their silly jokes
when I look behind
to find
my parents asking
why I am not packing.
So I walk to my drawer
and pull out all I own–
my bed and study table,
my colours and pencils,
drawing board and birthday cards,
letters and flowers,
and a stapler
to tie it all together
in a shoe box
that I’d carry to my new home.
I turn around one last time.
My friends disappear
one-by-one
in the rapidly darkening hall.
I hunt for a candle to light
so I won’t lose their sight
but there is none to find.
I feel no fear,
only deep inevitable pain,
an emptiness in my gut,
on losing
all that mattered the most.
I wake up choking on my tears
like every time
I dream of the days from the past.
Job Hazard
Of course, I’m in a high-stress job, Doctor!
.
..
…
…..
…..
I’m a mother.
One-on-One
“Samantha, your Dad and I need to speak to you about the company you are keeping.”
“What are you talking about? Dan and I are just friends!”
“I know, Dan is a friend. I’m talking about Liz.”
“Liz is fine. I know she is a little short-temprered…”
“That’s exactly the point! She is short tempered and tomboyish. She plays football–Men play football. Women are cheerleaders. And the way she looks at girls…something is not quite right about her.”
“She can look at whoever she wants the ways she wants. And she can play football if she wants too. Our country has a women’s football team, for God’s sake!”
“All I’m saying is that you are not safe around her. I think she’s gay!”
“I don’t know what she is but she is my best friend and she won’t hurt a fly.”
(A few minutes later)
“Is that Liz you are texting? I forbid you.”
“No, I’m Googling ‘how to ensure your parents are just insane and not sexist’.”
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 