One more slice.

An amazing cook, a marvellous creator, and a visionary in the culinary world.

These are some of the ways people introduce me or know of me.
Today is going to be another show and another spectacular creation by yours truly.

The preparations are yet to start.
Isn’t it too late?
What’s on the menu?
How will you manage?
I get asked.

And all I say with a beaming smile on my face.
‘I like my ingredients fresh, especially the meat.’

The hunt is just about to begin.

The yarn ball

Every story has a back story.
And that story has another back story.
Then another one and another one and another one.

So, when you ask my story.
What do I say?

Do I share the story of now or then?
Do I share yet not share the story at the same time?

Do I let the yarn ball loose or hold on to it with my dear life?

Because every story has a back story, and there are different sides to it.

The story is mine, but the narrations vary.
The intent is well, but the perception changes.
And there is no arguing the emotions that come to play.

It might be a story I wish not to tell. Not out of disrespect.
But because the story is like a yarn ball, once you let it go, it is a painful process gathering it all and gathering your own self after.

The big sale.

A new house.
A non-negotiable requirement.
A realization that somethings can’t be negotiated.

Aira was looking to buy a house in her hometown. She wanted to stay close to her roots, and in some way, she saw this as one way to do it.

As the search started, she had only one request with the realtor that was non-negotiable. Even a house at its most nuanced appeal was rejected if that one requirement was not met.

Aira was looking for a house that did not have a basement or an attic.

She spent a fair bit of her childhood amidst the unknown and wasn’t looking to have it consume her again. That is the thing about roots, somethings just can’t be negotiated.

After a long search, when she visited #999 for an open house, it was no-brainier. A simple duplex at the corner of the street, with no basement or attic, sounded perfect.

Aira was so excited she immediately signed the housing agreement and planned to move in right away.

After a few splendid days in the House, decorating & refurbishing, she felt she could finally call it home.

Only weeks later she realizes, why the House was such an easy buy.

The House at the corner of the street was hard to sell.
The realtor saw no option but to flip the number on the door to push the sale. And who better than a naive and eager buyer.

And, Aira was the perfect fit.

But what the realtor failed to check is the houses’ blueprint.

The master bedroom’s roof had a hidden room, unknown to many.

Back in the days, it was a spectator room, but no one knew its story. All there was, was a tattered blueprint in the City Hall’s old records.

As for Aira, no one in the neighborhood recalls someone moving in.


The contempt

Star crossed lovers.
Damned by the life at every turn.
Until life couldn’t confine them no more.


Once upon a time

The town was known for its famous folktale.

This is of a person who was once banished for wrongdoing and passed away in solitude.

The story grabbed my attention so much that I would listen to it over and over again. I don’t know if it was the twists and turns in the story that caught my attention, or was it the setting of a small-town gathering where the elderly used to sit in groups and chat away over their evening chai.

So, when I started writing my novel, it was evident that this was a story to be told, and it was going to be my first.

Only, as I start to write ”the end” in my manuscript, I hear a voice say, it should rather be, ”to be continued.”


Image credits – Image by Tony Prats from Pixabay

The white linen dress.

[Listen on SPOTIFY]

I sit by the beach and look at the waves.
Watching the tides follow the same pattern over and over.
It instilled a sense of calm, a sense of familiarity.
Like, something to look forward to, for now, and for the rest of my life.

Before I realize it, I see the sun starting to set, and as it does, I see the red in the sun transferring to the water in the sea.
As the water touches my dress’s hemline, I feel a sudden chill, and then I see the white linen absorbing the color as if it was blotting paper.

Red! how I always loved that color.

Loved?

A quick blink, and I am back in the present now.
What was that? A dream? A hallucination?
It was as if I traveled in time.

But now, I see myself laying in a pool of blood.
And, the white linen dress no more white.

I gasp for air and think how disturbing this is.
Yet how regal everything around looks.
All encompassed in red.

But whose blood was it? I ask myself.

Just then, I feel a splash of water on my face and wake up to my roommate panicking. ”We will be late for the reunion party. Quick. Get ready.”

I quickly pull myself together, secretly whispering that I will never take an afternoon nap, ever again. I grab the keys, and we rush out of the door.

As we drive towards the college, I stop at the red light.
And, towards the corner of my eye, I see the sun starting to set and someone sitting by the beach. Wearing a white linen dress.


Image credits – Image by Jody Davis from Pixabay

Star-struck.

The day, a hope for an exciting twist in life, turned into a twisted tale.

I pace up and down the hospital hall, waiting for my turn to visit the doctor. It was a general visit, and I was in no rush; I maybe just a little impatient with the waiting time. Then, I see him, the famous celebrity that holds special awards and innumerable popularity. Saying I was star-struck instantly can be an understatement.

I sprint through and make a chase, but like I was playing a game of hide-and-seek. I wanted a better view of the ‘star,’ and maybe speak a little, but I did not want to creep him out. No, no. Absolutely not.

Our eyes finally meet, and he walks to me. Exchanging Hi’s, we sit down to chat. I obsess over all the work he has done, and he listens patiently. I show my social media handles and fan pages I follow diligently, even boast off the one I created for him. He was awed in return.

He then suddenly goes silent and starts talking about missed opportunities and life left unfulfilled. And, I feel compelled to console him. It is only human.

I try to reason and continue to do so, and he turns to me and says that he visited the hospital with mild chest pain. He walked into the hospital’s main hall, saw me instantly get off my chair, and trail him. I immediately respond with a confession that this might be the most embarrassing moment of my life and smile slyly.

His expression did not change, and he continues as if he almost did not hear me speak.

He says that he had then felt an instant panic and a fear of a public ambush. With that, he started to race through the hall until his heart finally gave up.

As I stand up speechless, the lights around me start to flicker, and before fading away right before my eyes, all I hear him say is, ”It is too late.”


Image credits – Image by Foundry Co from Pixabay

Just another day

”Fake it till you make it,” said the book.

So, she did.

She faked, being confident.

She faked, being happy.

She faked being human.

Galaxies away, day 1 at the orientation program, the trainer is ready with the title slide.

And it reads, ”Fake it till you make it.”


Image credits – Image by simisi1 from Pixabay

Define forever

‘We will be together forever. Just say, ‘Yes.’

She responds,
‘Forever is a myth, isn’t it?
Does it imply the life now or the one after?
Even when buried 6 feet under, our bodies rot at a different speed.
So, what is forever?
Is it the last of your breath or mine?’

‘What is forever?’
She asks again as she stands over his casket.

After the final goodbye, her friends impose, ‘We will stay over tonight, don’t worry, we will get through this together.’

To their awe, she responds, ‘No, that’s alright. Thank you. I just need some time alone’.

She gets into her car and drives off, only to stop at a small cottage deep in the woods. She walks in with the door wide open and asks the man there if he is ready for tonight.

As they go through the plan one last time, he shrugs and says – ‘It would be great if you can refer me to your friends. Here is my card.’

The card in a chiller font reads the title in bold – Taxidermist.

She takes the card, smiles at him, then looks down to her locket, and says to it – ‘Forever might be a myth. But you promised.’


Image credits – Image by MeHe from Pixabay

A night to remember.

Halloween night. 
A horror film marathon.
House decorated to suit the occasion.

After a long night, it was time to hit the bed.
Hours later, awaken by a jolt, I inspect my surroundings.

‘Why am I worrying myself over nothing?
Everything is in order, the kid is sleeping peacefully right next to me.’

At this point, I don’t know what is louder my racing heart or the ticking of the clock. And, I tell my racing heart, it’s all OK. As I ease myself to sleep, the kid turns around and gives me a quick smile, leaving me startled for a minute. I smile back at her, pat her on her back and think how adorable she is.

But the ticking of the clock gets louder now. I look up to it and see it is 3:03 in the morning. I stare at it for a while, waiting for the minute to change. It doesn’t, after what feels like forever, and suddenly I remember that I don’t have a kid.


Image credits – Image by Pezibear from Pixabay

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