Tag: prompts

Her

It was a cold, cold day and Emelia was stuck inside her SUV in a snowstorm. It was freezing outside as well as inside. She had been sitting in the car from last 48 hours.

She turned off the heater a while back because she knew the battery of her car won’t last if she’ll keep the heater running for long. According to the reports she heard before getting stuck in this hell, the storm would last for several of days. So far, it had been only 2 days.

The last two days had been the worst days of Emelia’s life, or so she thought. In the initial hours, Emelia refused to believe that she was stuck in the car in the middle of nowhere in a fucking snowstorm. But after a couple of hours when the wind continued howling like a hungry dog and the snow kept falling like there won’t be an end, she realised that she was stuck. Stuck here for good. Soon after this realisation followed panic.

For the next few hours, she cried for help; screaming her lungs out and almost rupturing her vocal cords. She tried to break the glass of her windows, but her fingers were already starting to get numb. Moreover, the glass of her SUV’s windows was not easy to break. This exhausted and frustrated her to no measure. She kept at it but in vain.

Hours later, exhausted, she closed her eyes giving up and that’s when she saw Will smiling at her. The smile she fell in love with, the smile that takes all her worry away, the smile she wanted to go back to. And then it dawned on her that the only thing that will keep her going was hope.

Yes, she can survive this and yes she will make it back. A lot of people do, and that too in much worse situations. So she forced herself to believe that she can too. In spite of the swelling in both her feet and the lower half of her back, in spite of the numbness spreading throughout her arms, she told herself, that it will be over soon.

She tried to focus on the conversation she had with Will just before she left her home – “I need a break, Will. Just a week off from being a wife. I’m tired and you know it. All I’m asking is for you to let me be alone for a few days.”

After a few hours of argument, she was able to convince Will, like she always does, to let her go alone to the Rhode Island. She made him promise to not call her, and knowing that he will, she left her phone at home in the drawer of her study table. How she missed her phone right now. If only she had her phone with her, everything would be fine. Will would come running to rescue her and this nightmare would be over, forever.

But now, that was not possible. Unless someone was stupid enough to leave their home in such a storm and come driving down this stupid forest, that Emelia wanted to explore before driving to The Resort in Rhode Island, no one would know where she was.

She’d been crying a few hours ago, but now crying felt too laborious in such a cold weather. What really scared her though was not the cold that was shutting down her nervous system, or the storm that covered her car with thick snow, or the fact that it was a forest and some big carnivore animal might be lurking around her car. No, she was a strong woman when it came to these things. But what did bother her was the gloom of the sunless sky and the scary sounds the wind was making every time it went swishing around her glass windows. And also, the feeling, deep in the pit of her stomach, that something was terribly wrong, other than this unfortunate situation in which she had landed up, something was not right.

At one point, she thought she heard something, a sort of wailing. But as brave as she was, she still felt fear grip her insides. The glass of her windows was completely covered in fog and snow and it was difficult to see what was outside. She was just able to tell that it was soon turning into night.

The wind was whipping wildly outside, and there it was again. She heard that wailing cacophony again. She sat straighter, and in order to ignore the blood-curdling sound, she started to hum a lullaby that her mother used to sing when she was a child. She tried to literally force herself to sleep, but the cold made it impossible. But the lullaby which she always found comforting, sounded like a death song which was both disturbing and frightening.

All of a sudden there was a loud thud just outside her door. She felt it as much as she heard it as if something heavy hit the door. She tried to peek outside through the frosted glass, but nothing was visible against the grey backdrop of the gloomy dusk. She thought it was some wild animal. Slowly she rose from her seat, and without making any noise shifted to the seat on the passenger side. She was sure that the darkness would conceal her movement.

She tried to calm down her thudding heart telling it that it was nothing but an animal and there was nothing to fear. But when she heard the sobbing of a woman just loud enough to make the hair on her neck rise, she knew, it was no animal. And just then the sobbing turned into a high pitched laughter, so crass and intense that it made Emelia’s teeth chatter.

She looked intently at the glass window on the driving side and thought that she saw a hint of a shadow – a shadow woman with a scarf draped over her head. But only for a second before the outline turned into black smoke and transformed into a shapeless mass.

Frozen, she knew that it was no woman; it was someone else. Someone who is not a living person because no living person will sit and sob and then laugh in the middle of a snowstorm, outside a car that is stuck in the lonely forest in the middle of the night… It was Her, whom no one was supposed to see…


Genre: Supernatural

Note: All views and opinions shared in this post are my own.

Please feel free to give your feedback in the comments section below.

You can read my other stories here.


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Clicked – #Blogbattle

BlogBattle is a weekly short story challenge in which participants write short stories using a single word for inspiration. You can visit Blogbattle’s blog to find out more about it at Blogbattle: Inspired To Write.

This week’s word is Photograph.

NOTE: This is a piece of fiction any resemblance to any person or place (living or dead) is purely coincidental.

CLICKED

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Image Source: Pixabay

Genre: Horror

I place my digital camera – Sony Cybershot – lightly on the rough wooden surface of the coffee table next to me and crouch down to pick up the books from the lower most levels of the bookshelf. I see Needful Things, Grownup, Catch 22, Catch Your Death, Pet Sematary, Cell, Clifton Chronicles series and several other books sitting nicely stacked against each other.

There’re so many books that it’s past time we got a new bigger bookshelf. Ugggh… How many times will I have to argue with Dom  to get the damn thing? Looks like I’ll have to do it myself.

I shake my head in frustration, huffing a frustrated sigh, and pick up half of the books stacked against each other in the second last level, and gently keep them on the floor beside dozens of other books that rested harmoniously on the cream colored marble floor in lazy heaps.

After putting the remaining half of the books, from the same level, on the floor beside others, I grab my camera and take a few pictures of the books that I just kept on the floor. This is my way of keeping a tab on the books I have. Easy and hassle free.

I press the ‘preview’ button and check the pictures I just took, and that’s when I hear a loud thud from the other room.

What the hell?

I keep the camera as it is with preview window open back on the coffee table facing away from me and go to the bedroom to check.

As soon as I enter the room I feel a cold current of electricity run through my body in a matter of a split second. At it felt like electric current to me. The hair on my arms and legs rise and I stand at my place dumbfounded. I shake my head to get back my bearings and discarding it for a shuddering I enter the room.

The first thing that I notice is that the bedroom, somehow, seems unnaturally placid. I mean there’s obviously no one here, still it feels quaint to be here right now. Trying to ignore a strange feeling rising in the pit of my stomach I look around the room to find everything in order. There’s nothing misplaced or fallen on the ground.

Honestly, I was expecting to see the pile of folded clothes on the floor as I knew the window next to it was open, but when I check, the pile is sitting neatly where I left it in the morning next to the window.

Where did the sound come from? 

Maybe the noise came from the kitchen or outside and I mistook it for the bedroom. In spite of my gut telling me that the noise came from the bedroom, I drop the matter thinking it might have been Tom, the street cat, or some squirrel running around outside the window or maybe a bird or something else.

I return to the study room and make my way to the bookshelf on the right-hand side wall. But as soon as I lower my head to see the floor, I find everything scattered on the floor.

What the fuck?

All the piles of my books are lying on the floor as if someone kicked them. More than a few pages of my once neatly bind books are lying around scattered about the disheveled books. After a few seconds of shock, I notice that most of the books are not only just scattered around the floor, but are torn apart.

My heart starts beating fast thinking about who could have done so. My anger flares up in an instant and I start cursing, Tom, who visits me every now and then. I’m sure now that it is his doing.

It has to be!

I sit down on the floor, picking up the torn books carefully, one by one, trying my best to control the tears welling up in my eyes and that’s when I hear it.

Click.

My head snaps up to look at the camera, sitting on the coffee table just where I left it, but instead of facing away from me it is facing at me. My heart starts beating fast but I try to tell myself that I might have kept it like this in the hurry to go to the bedroom, or maybe Tom did it… but I know it’s not possible. I remember clearly how I kept the camera when I left

Click. Click. Click.

I freeze at my place and before I could even blink, a cold shiver runs through my body again. Just like before.

I muster all the courage I could and get up from the floor, not taking my eyes off the camera. Its lens looks like it’s staring right back at me, daring me to see what it has captured.

My heart thumping loudly in my ears I take calculated steps towards the wooden coffee table and my camera. Sweat starts dripping down from the sides of my head and the hair on my neck start to rise as I get closer to the camera.

I stop, just long enough to quickly glance around the room, as if to make sure there’s no one around. I feel completely jittered and my throat starts to feel dry.

I start to rethink the entire situation. Maybe it was my imagination playing tricks on me? Maybe it wasn’t a click that I heard, but some other noise from outside? Maybe Tom is still inside the house trying to find food in the kitchen and making all these noises there?

Or maybe I’m just freaking out?

Click. Click. Click.

I immediately look at the camera and notice that it has shifted a little from it was a minute ago.It is a little sideways now. But how in the hell is it even possible?

I hate to face it, but I guess there’s something around.

I try to back away from the camera carefully, one step behind the other. But just as I reach the place where I was sitting, the clicking starts again.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

I turn around and dash for the door. As soon as I’m out the room I shut the door behind me. I try to catch my breath but the frantic clicking noise makes me feel dizzy. It’s getting more and more urgent now…

Please, someone, stop it!

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click…

I cover my ears with my hands and run towards the bedroom. Entering the room I close the door behind me and bolt it shut. I wipe the tears and sweat off my face and feeling increasingly hysterical I pat my pockets searching for my cell phone. But then I realize that I left it next to the shelf on the floor in the study room.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I sit on the bed and try to steady my ragged breathing. I wait for a few heartbeats to let the feeling of nausea pass and then start thinking about a way to go outside and get my phone back. Dismissing the idea, I look around the room frantically in hopes to find something. Anything.

And that’s when my eyes land on the pile of folded clothes neatly sitting by the window and there, under the bright light of the sun, my eyes land on the camera sitting on top of Dom’s light blue shirt, facing towards me.

And right then, I hear the sound that’ll haunt me for each and every waking second of the rest of my life.

Click.


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The Next Worst Thing (Annihilation #2) – #Blogbattle

BlogBattle is a weekly short story challenge using a single word for inspiration. You can visit Rachael’s blog to find out more about #blogbattle- Writing Rachael Ritchey.

This week’s word: Leviathan.


Annihilation (Part #1)


The Next Worst Thing

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Genre: Dystopian, Apocalyptic Fiction, Young Adult

Lilly, Grandma and I sit in our rocking boat hugging each other tightly, waiting for our doom. Waiting for the Others to come and get us, but all of a sudden a silence falls upon us all like a heavy veil.

I open my eyes hoping against hope that the swishing noises we heard from the water around our boat were not others, but when I look around us all I can see in the dim moonlight and a few odd reflections of moon and lightening on the surface of the water.

The river is eerily quiet as if it’s scared to make even the tiniest of gesture. I squeeze Lilly and Grandma’s hands and move my right index finger to my lips motioning for them to be quiet. The clouds above roar, and thick droplets of water start falling on us making the already dreadful darkness seem gloomier by the second. The darkness around us coupled with the rain makes my heart heavy with fear and my breathing comes in small gasps.

Lightning strikes the dark sky as if announcing the hour of the Others and making us feel insignificant in the vast dark river.

We are bone wet and shivering from the cold. I look at Lilly and Grandma’s pale faces and realise that the temperature is dropping, fast. And out of nowhere a loud wail tears through the silence like a sharp spear making all of us  literally jump out of our skins.

We cover our ears in a feeble attempt to block the sharp and chillingly scream and that’s when I realise that the Others are gone. They’ve left us. But after listening to the second wail it dawns on me that the Other’s have not left us, they’ve run away.

Forgetting about what the loud wail could be, I grab a set of drenched pedals after thrusting one set in Grandma’s hands and start rowing fiercely in the direction in which we were headed earlier. I feel sorry for her, but I can’t help it. Right now we need to get away from this river before it, whatever it is, get to us.

Rowing the boat with all my strength leaves my mind wandering back to the wails we heard. It’s quite again and right now I hate the silence more than ever. All my life I’ve preferred silence over everything, but right now it might lead us to us our deaths.

My mind starts racing again, what could have wailed so loudly? I can’t even begin to imagine what kind of a creature can scream like this. But I do know one thing- I need to make it to the Camp on the other side before Others or that screaming thing get to us.

The wail rises again, this time, it’s louder than before and after a few agonising seconds as the wail drops I realise that it’s not getting louder, it is getting closer. I hope that it isn’t the Others, because frankly, I don’t think anything could be worse that having Others feed on our blood and flesh.

Whatever it is, I’m not a fool to let go of this miraculous opportunity to get the hell out of this river. I don’t have the time to sit here and ponder what could have chased the Others away from living flesh.

Guess we’ll have to find out about it afterwards, that is, if we survive the next ten minutes.

#

Relief floods over every tissue in my body as our tiny boat hits the ground. Without even waiting to catch my breath I jerk Lilly out of her seat and, pulling at Grandma’s hands, I literally drag them out of the boat within two seconds.

We straightaway make a dash for a tall concrete building standing just a few yards away from us. It looks strong and is a quick glance around it ensures me that it is deserted. We hide behind the building taking cover of the darkness. Sitting down with my back to the rough and grey concrete wall, I try to catch my breath.

Lilly and Grandma also do the same following suite. I turn towards my little sister and touch her button nose with my fingers. She hasn’t said a word since last night. And now that I think of it, she hasn’t spoken much in the last two weeks after the Other’s killed mom.

Looking at Lily’s dirt-covered chubby face I feel a pang of anger so deep that I feel a sharp pain in the pit of my stomach. She’s too young for all this. It isn’t fair. I shake my head in frustration and that’s when I hear a wailing similar to before coming from just behind the building.

It’s too close to ignore and run again exposing ourselves. I grab Lilly’s arm making a promise to myself that I won’t let anything happen to her or Grandma, I lean towards my left a little making sure I won’t be seen from the other side. And as I sit there trying to understand what could have made such a noise, the water of the river splashes wildly and I see a 100ft shadow rise from the river.

Words leave my mouth unbidden as panic grips my insides, “What the hell…?” And right then it turns to face me and, locking its with mine, it lets out another wail, but this time, it is so loud that I almost faint because of its impact.

Lily tugs at my hand with her trembling ones and asks me in a shrill voice, “What is it, Kia?”

I turn back to her, my face a white mask of fear, and say in a tiny voice , above the loud wailing, barely audible to my own ears, “a leviathan.”

***


ANNIHILATION (PART #1)


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Weep A While Longer

I’ve decided to participate in Rachael Ritchey‘s awesome weekly prompt- BlogBattle. I came across it through a very dear friend’s blog- Phoenix Grey. You can visit Rachael’s blog to find out more about #blogbattle- Writing Rachael Ritchey

BlogBattle rules:

  1. 1000 words max
  2. fictional tale (or true if you really want)
  3. PG (no more than PG-13) Content – let’s keep this family friendly! (this week will be difficult, I know. That’s a somewhat violent word! Remember, use your imagination. 🙂 )
  4. Your story must contain the word(s) from the theme and/or be centered around the theme in a way that shows it is clearly related
  5. Go for the entertainment value!
  6. Use the hashtag #BlogBattle, put a link back to your #BlogBattle Short Story in the comments section of this post, and/or include a link to this post in your own blog post (it creates a “ping-back” which will alert me and our friends to your #BlogBattle post)
  7. Have fun!

BlogBattle is based on the concept of one-word prompt writing. This week’s BlogBattle word prompt: Feather.

Here’s my entry for this week:

Weep A While Longerspring-1228678_1280

Genre: Dark Fiction

I open my eyes and the brightness surrounding me makes me squint. It’s white everywhere. Where am I?

I try to push myself up from where I’m lying expecting a hard ground beneath my body but it’s too soft to be mud or leaves. I immediately pull my hands away and turn to look what lies beneath me. Feathers – crisp white and tiny.

Sitting up I smile at myself grabbing a hand full of delicate feathers that are lying all around me. There’re so many that this place is looking white from roof to roots.

I blow the handful of feathers in my hand and they rise up in the air as if they have a life of their own. And just as those lovely feathers start to come down, I hear a giggle from behind.

For a second my heart stopped beating. No, it can’t be. Is this a dream?

I look around me at the feathers. Of course, it is a dream. I get up slowly trying to decide whether I really heard Mike’s voice or was it just my imagination. My whole body is moving slow as if moving fast will wake me up for real and I’ll lose this beautiful dream missing a chance to see Mike.

I hear his giggles again. This time I turn around so fast that I almost loose my footing. And when I look at the other side of the room, I see the most beautiful sight in the world- Mike sitting in his crib, waving at me and giggling.

Tears start running down my eyes as I run towards him. I feel as if I’ll explode with all the joy that is bubbling inside me. I reach out with my hand seeing Mike trying to get up holding the bars of the crib.

I’m running towards him, but then I realise that I’m still far away from him.

I try to run faster, and faster, to the point where my feet loose footing several times. I get up and run again, the dark cloud of panic settling over my heart.

“Mike. Don’t worry sweetie. Mommy’s coming.” I’m screaming like a mad woman now. But I’m nowhere near Mike. It feels like I’m still standing at the far corner of the room where I woke up.

I stop and look around to figure out a way to get to him before everything fades away- like it always does. I get down on my knees and frantically try to crawl through the feathers lying on the ground, trying to make my way to Mike.

A fog starts to settle in the room and now I can’t even see Mike clearly. “Don’t worry, Mike. mommy’s here, sweetie.”

I try to run again, but it’s of no use. I try to see through the fog and after a lot of trouble I’m finally able to see the outline of his crib. But what I notice nearly stops my heart. I can’t see him anymore. Slowly the fog starts to lift up, just the way it settles without any warning. And the scene in front of me knocks the wind out of me. Mike’s crib is empty. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.. this can’t be happening again. No, no. Please, no! Mike, Mike! Come to mommy Mike. Mommy is here to take you with her.”

But there’s no sign of him or his sweet giggles.

I slump down on the ground among the feathers and stare at the empty crib in front of me. And all of a sudden I hear Mike’s sobs coming from my right.

I turn to see where he is, but instead of my sweet Mike I see a lot of feathers… and a big red patch soaking through them. And as the realisation dawns on me, I know that I’ve failed him again. Blood- my Mike’s blood. And here I am, witnessing the death of my 1-year-old child for the hundredth time.

***


Please feel free to give your feedback in the comments section below.


 

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Trying To Get Home

This short story/flash fiction is written for the photo prompt at Describli.

Trying To Get Home

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Genre: Horror, mystery, paranormal.

 

It’s getting awfully dark for 5:30 pm. Isn’t the sun supposed to set by 6:30 at least?
Seems only fitting that today it had to set early. How can I have a fucking normal day on the saddest day of the year? Happy birthday, Jackie.

Everything that could go wrong today did. Well, it’s not a surprise if you’d believe my mother. Apparently I was born on “Friday the 13th” on a no-moon day – Amavasya. And today morning she called me just to remind me that today, after 26 years, it is the same fucking Friday the 13th, Amavasya. So, you see, how she almost ruined my morning by wishing me happy birthday.

Sighing heavily I shift my heavy sling bag from left shoulder to the right one. The weight of my bag is literally killing me. Darn you, Henry.

We were supposed to meet at 4:00 outside my office, but then after waiting for him for 15 minutes like a loon standing on the road alone, he texts me saying “I have an urgent meeting, I’ll book you a cab.”

That was almost two hours ago. I tried to wait for the cab, but I really couldn’t afford to wait any longer as Coco gets anxious if I’m not home by 6:00. Yea, I know, she’s spoilt but I really can’t afford not to pamper her as she’s the only living being who actually loves me despite what inauspicious day I was born on. How ironic, the only person who loves a self-help author is her tom cat… Well, what can I say, we gotta do what we gotta do for earning.

I again shift my bag from my right shoulder to the left one and, turning off the music blaring from my headphones, I walk towards the side of the road. There’s this small rock that looks inviting and as I’m staring at it debating whether to take a break or not, exhaustion takes over me like a sudden wave forming in the sea. I move towards it, almost as if it’s pulling me towards it, and dropping my bag beside the rock on the ground, covered with brown and orange leaves, I sit on the rock leaning on the trunk of the tree standing behind it at an awkward angle.

I instantly close my eyes loosing myself to the sweet slumber that swallows me, paying no heed to the clumsy shape of the tree or that there are some engravings upon its trunk just where my head touches it the fact that it’s getting dark like it’s late midnight. Darkness engulfs me making me lose myself entirely.

Loud voices wake me up.

I stir a little but then I hear a weird hollow crying.

I get up with a start and start looking around me frantically, feeling disoriented from the sleep. I take in the darkness that’s lingering around me like a thick black fog. It takes my eyes a few minutes to get adjusted to the darkness around me that is literally swallowing me. And as my vision adjusts, I start to see the gray shadows around me, clearer by every second.

The crying noise is a constant hum in the background, albeit a loud one. And as the reality of my situation dawns on me, the heaviness settles on me more and more as the seconds pass.

For a minute, I don’t even move a muscle thinking that it’s all just a bad dream. But as I sit there waiting for the dream to get over, I realize that it’s not a dream that’ll get over as soon as I’ll wake up, that will fade away as I’ll be going to the kitchen first thing in the morning to make a cup of coffee. Or the one that I’ll remember and brood upon while combing Coco’s black knotty fur.

I take in a deep breath and try to release it as silently as I can, but whom am I kidding, they already know I’m sitting here. My presence only making them more excited. More hungry.

I wish I would have paid more attention to the stories people told about this forest. How I wish I would have been superstitious enough to not have dared to step into this forest in order to take a short-cut for home. How I wish I would have listened to Christina, who tried to stop me like a maniac when I told her I’ll walk through the woods to reach home early.

I wish I wouldn’t have come to the in the first place office today. How I wish I would have been able to see Coco for the last time before I entered this forest or, better yet, I would have died this morning itself.

Well, at least now I know that the folklores about this forest are not just stories that mothers tell their children to scare them, but are true to every little detail.

Now I know that the dead really do dance here at night under the gray light of the moonless sky and that they, indeed, feed on the hearts of the living carved out from their chest while they are still alive…


Please feel free to give your feedback in the comments section below.


Note: All views and opinions shared in this post are my own.

You can read my other stories here.


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A Lost Memory (Bianca Brown #1)

This short story/flash fiction is written for the photo prompt at Describli.

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Finding A Diamond

Genre: Fantasy

I wake up with a start, completely unaware of everything. I sit up with a jerk and wonder where am I? I look around myself and realize that I don’t even know who the hell am I.
I try taking deep breaths. In and out, in and out. I reach with my hands and touch the mattress and a the tangled covers, trying to figure out my whereabouts.

I pat  beside me and realize that someone is in the bed with me. What the heck! I get out of the bed quickly, fumbling with the covers. The guy beside me wakes up and sits up rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “What happened, sweetie? You okay?” He looks at me furrowing his eyebrows.

From the faint moonlight that is coming through the glass windows of the room, I see his handsome face. Somehow I feel that I know him, but how, I can’t say. Well, he is in my bed, so obviously, I had to know him. But right now I can’t remember him.

“Who are you? What is this place? And who am I?” I try to sound as calm as possible but hearing my own words I know that I’m already sounding panicky.

“It’s okay, baby. Doctor said that it might happen.” He takes a deep breath and pat beside him, where I’d been sleeping. “Sit down and I’ll explain you everything.”

I know that something’s not right, but I can feel that this good-looking guy is definitely not a threat. I sit beside him and take a few calming breaths. After a minute, when I feel a little relaxed, I look at him expectantly.

He smiles and says, “My name is Jerry. Yours is Bianca, but we all call you B. I’m your fiancé and in two months we’ll be getting married, so you can relax.” He smiles again and says, “4 months ago you had an accident that affected your memory, severely. Some days you remember everything but some days you can’t. It has happened before, more than a dozen times, so please just try and relax. Okay? I’m sure that by tomorrow morning you’ll be just fine.”

What? I sigh heavily rubbing my face with my hands. Well, I knew something wasn’t right but I also knew that somehow I’ve been through this before. It does not come as a complete shock; I guess losing your memory, again and again, wears you off at some point. I think my brain is getting used to it now because I’m not freaking out the way I should. Whatever it is, I’m feeling better now, more composed. Guess that’s how I am, I mean nature wise. Well, we’ll see tomorrow.

I lie down facing my back to him, curled up in a ball and trying to forget what just happened. Maybe it is a bad dream and all I have to do is wake up.

#

The loud screeching of the alarm clock wakes me up at 7:00 am.

I turn it off and make my way to the bathroom. J is brushing his teeth, a white towel wrapped around his waist. I go to him and hug him from behind, “Good morning, J.”

He smiles at me looking at my reflection in the mirror and says through the bubbles in his mouth, “Hey, you’re up.”

I nod, still hugging him. For some reason, I’m feeling restless and insecure. I know it sounds exaggerated but due to my medical condition I feel like this most of the time. He turns around once he’s done, wiping his face with a small towel and tossing it on the stand. He hugs me saying, “are you okay?” I hear a slight tense note in his voice. What is it?

I try to ignore it and say, “Yep. Just a little tired, I guess.”

“Hmm. You remember anything from last night?”

I freeze for a second, my whole body tensing up. But when I look at him, the expression on his face looks relaxed, so I’m guessing that I didn’t do anything stupid, like last time when I started yelling when I saw him in the bed next to me. I shake my head, trying to remember what happened. But all I can remember is, after having dinner at The Ivy, we came to J’s place, made love, twice, and then we slept. “I hope I didn’t trouble you,” I say unsure of what to expect.

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. In fact, you were surprisingly calm last night. I mean, maybe you’re getting used to it now.”

“I guess.” I smile at him weakly. I know he means it in a good way, but the thought, that I’m getting “used to it,” is not making me feel any better. This is not how I want to spend my life. This is not who I am.

“Come on now, we have to get ready for…”

“Yea, I remember. Breakfast with mom.”

I go to my cupboard to see what I’m going to wear today. I go through all the dresses that are hanging and decide to wear the blue frock. I hear the bathroom door click- J is taking a bath. I immediately unlock the small metallic side-pocket- that is under the cupboard drawer, behind my undergarments- and open it. I take out the glistening black diamond from it. I hid it here the day I came back from the hospital.

I caress the smooth surface of the beautiful stone and remember the words I hear in my sleep every night since the day I lost my memory- The diamond will show you the way. Don’t let anyone see it.

I don’t know how I got it or what it does, but I do know, for sure, that somehow it belongs to me. No one ever mentioned it, but I am sure that it is something that no one knows about, at least not in my family.

It is my little secret and some day I will find out the real truth. The truth that everybody is trying to hide from me – The memory  that no one wants me to remember.


 

Note: All views and opinions shared in this post are my own.

Please feel free to give your feedback in the comments section below.

You can read my other stories here.


 

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

A Haunting Lullaby

This short story/flash fiction is written for the photo prompt at Describli.


A Haunting Lullaby

little-girl-playing-by-the-fountain-317x159

Close your eyes, oh my sweet little child.

and let the winds lull you into a deep sleep,

Let the soft moonlight caress your delicate skin.

Let the coldness around you wrap you in its feel,

And let the ground beneath you pat you when you stir,

Let the morning dew cleanse your innocent drool.

Let the distant howlings make you feel not alone

Let the birds’ chirping make your dreams come true.

So what if I’m not with you,

so what if I am not alive…

I will always make sure that the you’re put to sleep-

gently and lovingly…

and that none will ever disturb your sweet slumber.


Please feel free to give your feedback in the comments section below.


Note: All views and opinions shared in this post are my own.

You can other poems by me here: Caged, My Father and Loosing My Brother.



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WOW 2015 Round-Up

Hello everyone. I hope all of you had a great Christmas with your loved ones. Also, belated Merry Christmas to you all.

As this is the last Sunday of 2015, I’d like to take this opportunity to do a quick round-up of all the WOWs I did this year. There were quite a few weeks that I missed in the later half of the year as I got busy writing my book, but nonetheless I still tried to do as many as I could.

This weekly prompt has been a great source of knowledge for myself as well a few of my regular readers. I’ve learned so many new and unique words and I’m going to continue this as long as I can.

WOW-2

Here’s a brief description of what WOW is:

Word Of the Week (WOW) is a weekly meme created by Heena Rathore P. (me.)
It’s a fun way to improve one’s vocabulary by learning new words every week.

So here’s a list of all the WOWs of this year:

If you want to participate then simply do a post with a word of your choice (or to make it easy, do them alphabetically,) linking it back to this blog and after doing the post leave the link to your post as a comment on one of my WOW posts. You can pick any word (easy or difficult) and do a post with the name Word Of The Week (you can see the format in any of my WOW posts.)
Though it’s a weekly prompt there’s absolutely no compulsion to do it every week. You can do it as and when you get time. After all the purpose is not to do a post, but to learn new words.

I’ll end this post here as I have almost a dozen posts to get back to (for 2016!)

I hope you guys are having a great day!

Ciao ❤

 

 

BookBlogWriMo Week #1

What is #BookBlogWriMo?

Basically, it’s a lax version of NaNoWriMo for book bloggers. The author at Book Bumblings created prompts for each day, discussing different topics around books, blogging, and books + blogging. Visit here to know more about this prompt.

Week #1

1 – History of Your Blog – Tell us how you got started! When did you start your blog? Why? What have been some of your trials and tribulations? How many pigs did you have to sacrifice to get people to see your Facebook posts?

I’ve always been an avid reader. Call me crazy, but I’ve always been attracted to ‘something’, but never was I ever able to point out exactly what it was. I used to have this undeniable urge to discuss a book that just read with anyone who’s read it. Once I spent 2 hours talking to my cousin about ASOIAF (he’s the one who actually introduced me to the series.) We debated like cats and dogs and it really gave me a kick. Anyone who knows me well knows that I’m really opinionated and well, that was where I thought that reviewing will be good for me.  Continue reading “BookBlogWriMo Week #1”