A Dear Confusion

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“No, I don’t want to listen more about it.

I know all about it, courtesy you!, so much so that I can write a book on it.

I know that they are designed, engineered and built in the good ol’ U.S. of A and have a rich history and century-long heritage.

I know that they are always in style and that it has the power to turn heads, always.

I know that they sound cool, kind of like a World War I biplane and you wanted to own it ever since you were 13 years old.

But the point is that do we need it? Don’t you know how it will strain our finances? The EMI will burn a big hole in our monthly savings.

You know all this, isn’t it?”

There was a long silence on both the ends.

With a big sigh she said, “OK Bye!” and replaced the receiver of the phone.

He mistook it to ‘Buy‘.

And off he went to buy his mean machine, The Harley Davidson.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

Linking this post to the Ultimate Blog Challenge and October’s NaBloPoMo.

This weeks prompt –

She said ____. He mistook it to be ____.
The words used in the blanks have to rhyme and your post should revolve around the confusion thus created as a result of the miscommunication.

Image Courtesy : Google Images

If Only You Were Here

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The room had a look of being ransacked, with clothes strewn all over and newspapers filling in the gaps. Still, the cheque book was elusive.

I looked around with frustration but all I could see was dust that had settled everywhere.

Tired and defeated, I sat while our 3 year old marriage flashed in front of my eyes. I realise now, how I quashed all your efforts to nurture and strengthen our relationship. I now understand….

If only you were here now with me…

Something was turning into ashes, somewhere… my arrogance, my idiosyncrasies and a toast among other things.

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Linking this to 100 words on Saturday at Write Tribe prompt of ‘If only you were here’.

Chapter 2 : The Dream I Dream…

We all know about this game called Chinese Whispers in which one person whispers a message to another, which is passed through a line of people until the last player announces the message to the entire group. We at Write Tribe are doing just that but with stories on our blog. One person tells a short story on his/her blog, the next Blogger will continue the story, till it finishes on Blogger no. 9.

Chapter 1 by Richa.

Chapter 2… read on…

The Dream I Dream…

Rohan pursed his lips, furrowed his brow and slowly shook his head from side-to-side.

‘I want you in my cabin with the ABC project report NOW’. He gave me one last disgusted look before leaving me alone.

Oh, but I am not alone. It is Sid, the Mr-Know-It-All, again. I know, he means good for me and is always there to protect me. His uneasy but spot-on questions irk me but what really gets me is his domineering attitude.

‘Aha! The bossy can’t stand you too’, I heard his voice mocking me. clip_image001

‘Why is he always difficult and snappy with you?’. This time I could see his eyes bright with mischief.

Ignoring him, I went back to my workstation and woke up my laptop from its deep slumber. As I navigated through various folders to locate the updated ABC project report, I saw Sanket enter Rohan’s cabin.

Mr Chauhan, the man of my dreams, like a hero bashed my boss, verbally. I could see Rohan with his sullen face looking down. I could sense the glow of a smile rise up through my whole being.

*                                       *                                           *

No matter how hard I tried, sleep never came easily to me. Every time I closed my eyes images of my father’s face flooded my mind. The memories which I wanted to bury would come closer and closer to the surface. Some secret part of me remembers the dirty things done to me as a child, every night.

Like every night, the little boy, who calls me ‘Shish’ comes and calms me.

I know, Shishir must be a tongue twister for him.

“Shish, stay calm”, he said in his child-like voice which was paired with mature wisdom.

Yes, stay calm. I have become an expert on that. Because, that’s what I have been doing since ages. Yes, stay calm and let go of the pain and get over with it quickly. The more you resist, the more the pig enjoys. By pig, I mean the real pig in my life as well as the one George Bernard Shaw referred to.

To tell you the truth this little boy’s soothing words have a calming and a comforting effect on me and his presence lulls me to sleep.

But not for long, as the demons of the dreams visit and awaken me.

It is the same dream again. But it is a bit different this time.

The knife is not pointed at me like how I have seen it earlier in my dreams.

As I toss and turn to shake that nightmare away, I hear Sid’s urgent voice, jolting me up from sleep.

‘Wake up you fool. See, what you have done!’ I see him sneer with contempt.

I feel something hard in my hand. I sit up in my bed with a start. I am holding a big knife. With a shriek, I throw it away and cover my mouth with my hands.

My hands are sticky. Why? I look down. Why are my clothes stained? Am I bleeding? Did I cut myself?

Am I still dreaming? Is all this a part of the dream?

Tribe whispers is an idea proposed by Ayush Chauhan in the  Write Tribe Facebook Group. Members of the group are working together to create a story. Read more here: Tribe Whispers at Hundred Works.

The story of the Tribe Whispers (Group 2) now moves to Pixie for Chapter 3.

Stay tuned…

UBC Day 27 : Silence…

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Tring- Tring, the phone rang.

She willed it to stop ringing.

Unmindful of her turmoil, it continued to disrupt her inner peace as well as the silence of the room.

Thoughts of an impending harassment over a crank call were clouding her mind, when she heard him say, “No, I don’t want a credit card.”

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

UBC Day 23 : The Shadow of His Smile…

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It was the third call since morning. Her stomach churned and beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she replaced the receiver. The caller called her name and then said nothing till he disconnected, without answering her questions about his identity.

Should she call Jesse? Last time, he had brushed it off, when she said someone was following her.

Wearily, she returned home and heard Jesse mentioning about a parcel for her.

She untied the string and opened the box . With horror stricken eyes she looked at Jesse.

Did she see a shadow of his smile? Is he…

100 Words on Saturday - Write Tribe

This is in response to The Write Tribe Prompt.

UBC Day 17 : The Story Continues…

Today’s Wednesday Write Tribe prompt is to conclude both or one of these stories.

  1. Varsha Bagadia’s ‘A Moment of Happiness
  2. Patrick O’Scheen’s ‘Proud Child

I chose Varsha’s ‘A Moment of Happiness’. Read her story first and then check out my attempt to conclude her story.

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The police officer disappointed him.

Unlike the other ‘followers’ who allowed him to savour fear or horror in their eyes, the officer showed just some confusion.

The first blow was fatal enough and the second was uncalled for, but he couldn’t take any chances.

The officer with his investigations could put his mission on a back burner.

He chuckled to note that the officer came across as a bonus, but he still needed 4 more ‘followers’ in the next 2 days.

He can’t let his master down, the powerful ‘ Angel of Light’ who directed him through his neighbour’s dog.

Write Tribe

This is in response to the Write Tribe Prompt – Continue The Story

UBC Day 10 : Between a Rock and a…

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She had to refer that old calendar for her artwork, which lay somewhere in the attic.

It looked tidy enough, but she couldn’t find it.

Her eyes fell on her mother’s rusty box which was off limits for her as a child.

‘I’m no longer a child’, she thought and peered into its contents.

A postcard caught her eyes.

She was numb with shock.

Is it true or a wild accusation? Will tossing a coin help her decide?

Which side her responsibility rest?

Her father was framed for a crime he did not commit.

And the culprit was her mother!!

Write Tribe
This is in response to the Write Tribe Contest #1 using the 7 words :
postcard,  coin,  tidy,  wild,  help, calendar and responsibility in random order.

UBC Day 7 : You Have The Power…

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You have the power… the power to make my heart skip a beat when I hear your footsteps.

You have the power… the power to make my legs feel like jelly with just a raised eyebrow.

You have the power… the power to give me butterflies in my stomach with that sardonic smile.

You have the power… the power to make me wait with bated breath as you contemplate your next move.

You have the power… the power to kill me silently when you say nothing at all.

You have the power… the power to liberate me from this hellhole.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

UBC Day 6 : Lost Treasure

cooltext1108140704I was waiting for my bus and it started to rain. Out of nowhere, he got under my umbrella. The initial shock gave way to a smile.

There was something nice about him that I couldn’t put my finger on.

A beautiful relationship was thus born.

Then one day, out of nowhere he said, “It wouldn’t work anymore between us.

It was tough to accept that our paths had changed, initially.

But now, I wouldn’t change a thing.

We grew up as individuals because of our love.

The love we shared is a treasure. So, what if I lost it.

100 Words on Saturday - Write Tribe
This is in response to The Write Tribe Prompt

The Smallest Things…

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For her it was an obsession which was growing strong with each passing day.

Her days would be spent agonizing about it. Sometimes she cried, sometimes she blamed herself for it. Sometimes she would vent it out on him.

What was initially a concern for him had now turned into indifference.

Finally, her prayers were answered, but he accepted the situation with nonchalance.

When he saw him for the first time, something stirred and overwhelmed him.

Today, he is more obsessed and in love with him.

It’s true, sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.

Baby

Write Tribe Prompt
This is in response to The Write Tribe Wednesday Prompt # 7 prompt.
Image Courtesy : Google Images
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