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.


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

A curse like no other.

[Listen on SPOTIFY]

A gift that was so unique that it was instead a curse than a blessing.

She has a power unknown to many.
She could see what others could not.

She could foresee death.
Death of others. Others that are close.
And just days before it occurred.

But it was a curse like no other.

Not because she could not change the events leading to it.
But because she did not know how and where and worst of all, who.

It would always come as a dream; days before and in it would be a few blurred figures swaying around.

But the dream would occur every night from then until the actual event occurs. She knows it will stop, and when it does, she knows why her phone is ringing.


Image credits – Image by Enrique Meseguer 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

Reality-check.

I open my eyes to you.

I close my eyes to you.

You are everywhere yet nowhere.

Dreams do become a reality.

They really do.

But no one tells what happens after.

When reality strikes.


The wrong answer

I spy with my little eye, something that has an X in it.
I spy with my little eye, something that is close by.
I spy with my little eye, a sound so profound.

They look around thinking of the object, and all say, ”Pass.”
”What is the object?” they ask me.
Before I say the answer, I hear the thwack-thwack.

And, I wish again that others can see it too. The things I see.
If only someone got the answer right. At least this one time.

A few weeks later…

“Any interesting games in mind?” they ask.
”How about I spy with my little eye…?” I respond.


Image credits – Image by David Englund 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

The essence.

[Listen on SPOTIFY]

The sense of smell is fantastic, isn’t it?

One whiff, and it takes you back to a beautiful memory or presses the trigger button.

I choose a beautiful memory over anything.

Like, the fragrance of fresh jasmines reminds me of the days I used to play dress up.

Like, the aroma of a fresh brew reminds me of the day I fell in love with coffee.

Like, that one perfume that reminds me of a special someone and our times together.

Like, the pleasant scent from the basement reminds me there is room for more, for those who once wronged me.


Image credits – Image by JayMantri from Pixabay

It is all in the eyes.

You are so beautiful.

Those eyes, especially at the golden hour, I could stare at them all day long. I just can’t seem to look away. Even the slightest blink seems like a cardinal sin.

A few hours later, they were neatly packed in a glass jar and placed at the window sill. It changed the aesthetics of the entire room.

Those eyes.

How beautiful.


Image credits – Image by wal_172619 from Pixabay

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