The Magical Hat

I had once read in an unconventionally intriguing book about a hat. It was a hat that turned invisible as soon as someone wore it. The hat had a magical ability to impart whatever knowledge from the ends of the earth that the wearer wanted to possess.

One day, while watching a documentary film on Albert Einstein, I coincidentally paused at a clip where I saw Mr. Einstein adjust the air above his head. That moment, I knew the reason behind him being such a celebrated personality since generations, and for generations to come. Dropping everything, I sought to obtain the hat and finally live the life having my ambitious dreams fulfilled.

Strangely, it struck me after days of searching that the thing that drove Mr. Einstein was no magical hat. It was rather, a crown of pride and self belief doing its job effectively, oblivious to the world around it.

Wondering why his hand was hovering over his head? I was too. Well, perhaps he was checking if he could somehow debunk his fellow scientist, Newton’s claims by hoping if gravity wasn’t intact for even that one second!

One of my entries of the 3 day Katha Club creative writing workshop I recently attended =)

Do Not Cheat

It seemed like it had been a while since the winds had last visited. The land was deserted and cracked with the sun beating down on it. A bald eagle, tired and exhausted of the extreme heat of the sweltering earth, perched on the ridged ground. Right beside it lay Russell Fletcher, profusely perspiring and barely alive. His heart thumped uncontrollably out of the shock of just having been pushed out of an aeroplane with nothing whatsoever for himself, except a parachute to spare his only remnant possession- his life. All his energy, hunger and sanity levels were dipping down with every second that passed. With his inventory of weapons and all modes of currency he’d once had undoubtedly lost, the situation that Russell was in was very close to being hopeless. He was just a breath and a half away from losing consciousness again, when he spotted a roll of parchment that the eagle held clutched in its feet.

‘We’ve dropped you here for a reason. Move fast and reach your destiny. If you try to cheat us, you’ll have to pay.

We’ve held Rianna as hostage. Do what you know you’ve got to, and do it soon. And DO NOT CHEAT, or your sister’s fate will slip right through your fingers.’

“Ugh. I could get things done very easily, but I know that they’re tracking me. Can’t take that risk. I just cannot lose Rianna, she’s the only one I have.”, Russell thought to himself, getting up to make a move.

Suddenly, the world heard a loud and evident click sound. And everything went into a sudden standstill.

“Yo Pete! How do you like the game? I’ve heard Retribution 3 is the best yet in its series, so couldn’t resist getting it for you!”

“It sure is, Uncle Roger! I just paused the game for the first time since I sat down to play! I think I know what I’ve got to do but might need some cheat codes to notch up Russell’s energy and hunger levels. I don’t see any legit way I can do that in this scorched desert place! The story is intense and the characterisations are just too good!”

The Voice of a Cowboy

This is my 5th entry? for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, where you’re given a picture prompt every week to write a short story based on it. However this time, my mind was blank and hence I gave poetry as a little stable boy a try.unnamed

With my pencil and notebook

I gaze and I look

For inspiration to come to me

Before the sunshine does flee

What could I write? I thought

While my siblings fought

The ceaseless tug of wars

And the neighing competitions to top them all.

A topic I’d now gotten in mind

Where to start, I found it hard to find

Should I pen down the times of joy?

Or just say everything & not be coy?

About all of the sleepless nights?

Or the cascading picturesque sights?

Of how my mom and dad don’t exist?

Or of yet how they’re my brothers I insist?

How they’re always here for me?

Or how much of me they see?

About the marathons and races?

Or their quick and gallant paces?

Of how I hold their serene photo?

Or am wrapped up in my warm coat, oh?

How the others call me a mere little cowboy in the stable?

Or of how they think I’m hardly able?

Poor and apparently lonely I might be

But they’ve only got to wait and see

Because words can’t bring me down

As they’re my weaponry lone.

To become a wise writer is the dream

As difficult it may seem

I can almost see it appear

Galloping, riding on my brothers, I near

A content end to my life at the stable

On to become bigger, and mighty able.

The Fish World

My response this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers’ prompt!

This week's prompt photo is supplied to us by Sonya O.

This week’s prompt photo is supplied to us by Sonya O.

Copernicus claimed that the Sun, not the earth, was at the centre of the universe.

 Christopher Columbus proved that the earth was a spherical planet rather than a plane.

Galileo strongly believed the earth was in constant planetary motion.

Susan closed the ‘Planets-N-Space’ encyclopaedia, setting it down with a satisfactory sigh. To think that there was always at least one wise man- was a relief to her. Her inquisitive mind thought about how the world of fishes was when she laid her eyes upon the fish tank in the library.

The centenarian-Salmon once proclaimed that his clan was the supreme leader of the world.

The Cod-family claimed that they’d swam to the surface to see the dark world, which only they were capable of ruling.

But only The Oscars truly knew that they lived in a tank and not in the real ‘world’.

The Oscars broke it to the others that they all were actually captives.

Susan let out another sigh, remarking that the fish led a more shocking, if not eventful life than humans ever did!

Mind Voices

Here’s my response to this week’s FFfAW prompt! Picture credits to Ellespeth’s friend =)
wpid-photo-20150529115224049

For every constant & focused mind voice in everyone’s head, there’s always a wandering, purposeless, and a simply out of context one.

The former was definitely the one and the same for each one of the boys in the photograph. This should make a striking pose for the photo!

The latter went quite like this.
This beach needs to be our school. That way, at least I’d show up every day!
8 packs of masala popcorn. Hmmmm. My stomach still asks for more.
Oh my goodness that crab looks like it’s coming to rip the living soul out of me.
I kind of miss Mamma.
Trust the shorter ones to accurately hide your face with the excuse that they need to stand in front.

Yet, when the boys looked at the photo about 3 decades later miles away from each other, their mind voices were the exact same.
Those were the days that will never come back.
The funny, and somewhat profound coincidence was that they all had the same faint, nostalgic grin on their face.

On Track

I run fast. Faster than the ones that try to catch me. Though it’s not like I’m a condescending being who would derogate someone’s ability just for their personal satisfaction. It’s what I do and how it works. Puncuality is key if you’re aiming to catch me. Be a little later than you should, and you’ll have your hand on your forehead regretting how you shouldn’t have overslept.

But believe me, once you’re on, the ride’s pretty smooth. Except for technical issues and highly noncooperative and inclement weather, nothing usually stops me. Pull my chains, and I’ll come to a curt halt. Be unreasonable as to why you did it, my authorities will come swoop you up to give you a lash.

Did I mention that I take you through the ups and down real smooth? With my cruising speed and the picturesque locations that pass by, even the longest duration of your commute will go by in a jiffy. I carry several others of your kind in me, whom you end up calling your travel buddies or end up becoming the occasional mortal enemies with them. Fighting over leg space and window seats, I find it extremely trivial, but as long as my interiors do not get filthy I’m indifferent.

I run on tracks built by someone of your kind. They change courses time over time and are hence what determine where I take you. The tracks make me what I am, since what good would a bulky, cumbersome, endless contraption do without lines to keep me contained, a purpose and space to run on?

So, sit by the window and enjoy the journey, or loathe over being stuck in the aisle seat. Either way, don’t forget to read between the tracks. I’m a train, and this is what I would say to the ones of your kind if I were abled like you all are.

The Wedding “Ring”

 My entry for the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) of the week’s here, and it’s a wedding!unnamedPicture Credits~ PricelessJoy

It was the morning of the wedding. Dressed in his new tuxedo, stood Robbie. With his brow breaking a sweat & an incessant tapping of his shoes, he waited anxiously. Today was the day.

He’d longed for this day, yet had the jitters of how he would keep up his end of the task. He wouldn’t have known what to do if he were the groom today. Lucky for him, Robbie was just a 3-year-old who had been assigned as the ‘ring-bearer’. What that meant- he had no idea, and when he stood facing the church bell, his heart suddenly dropped. Turning to his mother, he said, “Mommy, why does Aunt Jo want me to carry such a hugeee ring to her wedding? Because I think it’s well and good in its place!” indicating the church bell.

Fortunately for Robbie, he’d mistaken the bell for a ‘ring’ owing to the uncanny resemblance between the word ‘ring’ and the sound of the bell!

The day was a fine one, both for the happily-married and little Robbie.

The Memorial

This is my first entry to the Flash fiction for Aspiring Writers program. This week’s photo prompt is supplied by Dawn M. Miller, based on which we were asked to write a 150 word story. Here it goes!

wpid-photo-20150517131025656

My mother was the most amazing person.

We only had each other- to take care of, to play with, to learn with, and to live with.

She never took me to the extents of me seeing the extremities of being homeless, considering how utterly homeless we were. In fact, even when I was 6 and could spell pretty well, she didn’t allow the word ‘homeless’ get into my mental lexicon. She’d take me to innumerable places, just to give me a sense of a home.

My mother’s notion was that a house needn’t have doors and windows to be called a home. All it needed was space to love and live, air to take in the love and life, and companions to share all that with.

With that, I, Roger Mason, Mayor of Park Avenue, inaugurate this memorial Garden in memory of my beloved mother and what a home truly means. Any citizen in dire need of accommodation will be helped with the launch of our special program for the same.

Toward a better future!

*cuts ribbon*

*applause*

Help Mrs. Pauley Asap

Writing 101- Hone a Point of View

“That’s one less trouble, mister! Let’s see that list now, shall we? 

“I never thought these troubles could be tackled and striked out so easily, Mrs. Pauley. Thanks for helping me!”
“Tackled indeed, Jimmmy. But do remember that these are just the baby steps that you are capable of taking right now. The big picture needs even more support. Keep working towards completely doing away with all of ’em as you become a smart grown up man, will ya?”
“I sure will.”

I remember the grin on my face that I’d had every time Mrs. Pauley would be so supportive of the things I told her about. My mind recollected those times spent with her as I sat across the street facing her humongous house with the quaint, slopey roof. Apparently, she is being evicted from the house she’s been living in since forever. I asked mom about what could sweet Mrs. Pauley possibly have done, that there were cops at her place evicting her?! Evicting. Even the sound of it seems like an incredibly evil thing.

Imagining her gone is very saddening to me. So what if she couldn’t pay some bills on time? Well actually, money isn’t always your bestfriend. That was one among the hundreds of wise things Mrs. Pauley had told me over the years. When I was 6, I used to think that she was born this way. Old, wise, with a giving heart. It took me time to believe it then, but now I know, that she was just like me someday. To having grown up to become as smart as her, she doesn’t deserve to be deprived of her house at all!

I long being able to do something for her, owing to the numerous things she’s helped me with.

Help homeless man
Save the strawberry bush from dying
Fix global warming

I found the list from two years ago when I was over at her place fixing the problems I had thought were in dire need of being solved. Her youngest son had been in town who worked for Greenpeace. He told me about all that he did in his job to save the earth. That was when I striked out the last trouble off the list.

The cops seem to be coming out now. They’re leaving! This looks like everything went well. So, I rose up and headed towards Mrs. Pauley.

“Mrs. Pauley! They left! Isn’t that amazing?”

She didn’t say anything, but gave a weak smile.

“Why are you so glum?”

“They’ve given me a week’s notice. That means 7 days until I can digest the fact that I’m being kicked out of my house, Jim. We’re going to make the best out of these 7 days, a’right?”

“We sure are.”

Saying that, I left for home. I didn’t protest, whine or question about anything that was happening. For all I know, Mrs. Pauley was putting up a fight. With all the odds set against her, life hadn’t being the nicest to her lately. All her sons had settled abroad, leaving her with what mom calls ‘Empty Nest Syndrome’. I realised it’s just a fancy name for missing your sons to death. So there was that, Mr. Pauley’s gravely unfortunate death just months ago, and now the eviction? It had clearly been too long since she’d said her famous words, “That’s one less trouble.” I thought it best for me to not bring all those evils into the clear for now.

I got home and I turned over the list of troubles to make another one. It had indeed been quite a time since I was concerned about the better of the world, and now was definitely a good time. I wrote, ‘Help Mrs. Pauley asap’.

My vision strayed and I noticed something below on the paper. It was Mrs. Pauley’s sons number which he’d given to me so that I could call him if I wanted to know how ‘fixing global warming’ was going.

Mrs. Pauley had been so down that she thought herself to be of too less importance for her to call her sons who were busy in far away lands living their own lives.
That’s when I knew exactly what to do.

Soon enough, the plan worked and a parcel came to Mrs. Pauley’s doorstep. I went over quickly enough and stuck a note on the rent money that I’d asked her son to send in. I grinned satisfactorily at what the note said. That’s one less trouble, Mrs. Pauley!

Writing 101, Day 18

‘An Extrovert’

Writing 101- To Whom it May Concern

Flipped to page 29 of the nearest book I could find. What I found at first glance, ‘An extrovert’. Also, I revamped the idea of writing a letter to writing an email. Because, hello? Technology!
Here we go.

From: Myself
To: The Extrovert in Me
Subject: Hey, you!

How’s it going? I’m guessing the party in my head is still going pretty strong. Why you ask? I have been feeling content and happy since quite a long streak! You’re doing an unbelievably great job.
The party yesterday was a blast, wasn’t it? We have got to do more of that. Well, I think I never told you this, but thanks for being there back when I was almost going to back off from my current project due to some insecurity thingamajig, because guess what? The entire team got a huge raise besides winning Most Well Done Project in the annual company party! I knew I could always count on you for being there to give me that extra push.
Also, you do check on your not-so-counterpart antonym, don’t you? If the latter’s true, then you really should. If The Intovert in Me ever gets out, it’s almost like outrunning a cheetah to get her back in. All the constant worrying, self doubt, and gosh, the case of not wanting to talk to anyone in a groovy social environment and later craving for some company when alone is the worst! Tell her to save it for some time else, sometime around never.

In all good causes, keep YOLOing and make it big. Stay the same and yeah, also, stay.

In the process of keeping things lively, don’t get forgetful. We’ve got to plan something big for the upcoming birthday of the amazing best friend of ours.

Catch you later. Oh what am I talking about? You are a part of me.
Silly me. No, silly you? You know what I mean.

Writing 101, Day 14