Dark

The author of the most prestigious horror series decided to take a break. To escape from all the paparazzi and cacophony, he chose to stay at the lake house owned by his family for generations. Even though he hated the place so much, it was his only option.


The trees outside swayed with creepiness. And the winds quavered queerly. Alone, he decided to watch a movie. “Dark”, a cassette on the shelf read. Unable to find anything else, he played it on. “You call this horror, duh” he chuckled after watching it for some time .


He was awoken by a scream. The TV was on and screeching, assuming the cassette was stuck, he switched it off and went to the kitchen to grab something to quench his hunger. While he was in the kitchen, he felt the scream as real as ever. He began to ponder about it and accidentally poured the milk on the floor.


“Arghhh”, he grumbled. While cleaning it, to his bemusement he heard the scream once again, a shrill one compared to the first. His instinct made him feel unsafe but as an author who writes the most overrated eerie stories his curiousness won over. He grabbed his jacket and scrambled outside and ran in the direction of the scream.


The woods seemed to be waiting for its prey,  their eyes followed the running man towards the shabby bridge near the lake. The scream died when he reached there. Breathless from all the running, he searched for the source. His eyes fixed on a girl far ahead of the lake, she was gasping for air and drowning.



Without a second thought, he jumped on the ramshackle boat hoarded near the bridge and grabbed the moss-covered oar, and started to row towards her. He kept his eyes on the target but his oar got stuck in some weed beneath and he lost the direction.


He kept on rowing until he reached the point where he had seen the girl. He looked around and saw the hem of the girl’s dress, afraid she might have drowned, he rowed vigorously and leaned over and got hold of it.


He pulled hard but fell back and realized that he was holding on to a torn piece of dress. “That’s mine”,  a voice was heard. He got startled and turned around to see a girl sitting on the other side. His mind was in utter shock. A cold eerie breeze brushed past her, he glanced at her dress and saw it was torn apart. The full moon shone bright and he was bewildered. She was legless. He felt a chill at the back of his neck. He glowed at her in terror realizing that he was in a story he will never be able to write.

Well Played

Our story began smoothly with a ‘hai’.

I was writing it.

The first few chapters were heart throbbing.

Words were inspired by him.

Secrets started to spill.

The Chapters started to get filled with passion.

And the story urged with heat.

Fate wrote the lines to destiny.

The destiny I had wished for us.

I was wrong.

I realized the last chapter was already written.

He was already in his “happily ever after”.

He was the author and I was just a pawn.

Universal Consciousness

“Why are you alone, Babaji?”

The hot summer evening saw the usual bustling.

The street was similar to the ones shown by the white men in their films, it was brushed with a tinge of yellow blanketed by the dust from the vehicles and by the smoke rising from the street stalls.

The aroma of spices that marked the Indian culture made the scene picturesque.

But the white-bearded man resting peacefully among this chaos was what caught Brooke’s eyes.

He had come from Britain to find why the thought of India attracted him the most. And at the sight of the old man who had a slight grin on his face, he knew exactly where to ask.

Babaji was sitting with his eyes closed, the question was heard but he remained silent.

Brooke touched his feet and said, “Please do answer my question, Babaji, I would like to know my purpose here”.

Brooke was startled by a voice that was deep yet calm like the ocean.

“What brought you here is your purpose, young man.”

“But I don’t understand”.

“You will.”

Babaji stood up from his trance, touched Brooke’s head and began to recede away, moving peacefully like a bubble floating above the chaotic waves of the ocean.

Brooke was flabbergasted by what he saw. Everything around him vanished, he felt his whole body vibrate in the rhythm of the universe while his eyes reflected his true self.

It felt like hours before he opened his eyes but it took only two minutes, he realised. He searched for Babaji, and he spotted him far away moving at the same pace, the pace of the Universe.

Broken Vow

“For better or for worse”

I paused,

“I am letting you go”.

Rejection

It was the first time.

The first time I got rejected.

Unexpected, it broke me apart.

It felt like a thousand stones weighing

down my heart.

She said no.

Even though she knew

it was my favourite choclate bar.

Beau

Bracing myself, I grasped his hand in fear.
He clasped me tight in his arms, embracing me with love.

Crush

The tree in the campus felt more welcoming. Sitting alone I began to play with my feet.

“I don’t care anymore”, I maundered.

“Me too”, a voice replied.

“I don’t care about my looks”.

“Even I don’t”.

“I don’t care about my faults”.

“That too also”.

“I don’t care about my flaws”.

“Ohh yes of course”.

“Excuse me, stop mocking me”, I retorted.

I stopped looking down at my feet and steered my eyes to the voice. He was staring right into my eyes.

“I only care about you, your eyes and your smile. “

I blushed.

The Accused

The case was at its final verdict. He turned his sight from the judge to me. His eyes glinted just like they once did when he was wrapped up in my arms with a white sheet. But they lacked the innocence they once possessed. The stare was interrupted by the verdict-“Guilty”. Unforgettable. It was a March 24th, the same day he was born.

Valentine

Transition

My Strength & Weakness

You are my weakness, my love.


We dwell in different bodies.


And our separation petrifies me.


Aches my heart when you are in pain.


Tearing apart making me insane.


Yet I am sane when you’re nigh.


As long as you’re safe, I feel fine.


Our closeness pampers me.


Because my soul resides in you,


yours in mine.


And I realize my strength is you,


my love.

Loving Myself

Loneliness was something everyone gifted me.

The gift which I dreaded the most.

I used to lament a lot.

But it turns out it is a gift not everyone can get.

I discern now it is the path to silence.

And silence is the language of the Souls.

I am ecstatic realising myself after all.

Madly in Love

My thoughts became ineluctable.

It started to seem endless.

I lost myself,

    in the depths of insanity


and I found comfort in the madness.


  The madness that defined only you.


They call me crazy, yes I concur

    I concur,


   I  am crazy in love with you.