SPIKE
transpierce
run through things
skewering many hearts
sharp spindles draw hot blood
fountains splatter it on streets
“penetrate with pointed object”
Writing Challenges
Just A Small Rant
I don’t share my grief with people.
Call it instinct. Or call it pride.
Show of sympathy by others when I’m grieving is just that – a show. “I understand what you’ve been through…” No, you don’t. You are just trying to make me feel better, which I appreciate, but the words you speak are as genuine as Donald Trump’s tan.
When I’m grieving, leave me to myself. If you want to help, make a cup of tea.
Don’t give me the “There is a life after death”, “It was meant to be” bullshit. Please.
I may not be an adult, but that doesn’t mean you need to dumb down serious things like death for me. If it hurts, it hurts. No two ways about it.
I like my tablets like I like my words – without sugarcoating.
The Fun In Funeral
“When I die,” she declared, “you’ll understand why there is ‘fun’ in funeral.”
Carefree words spoken laughingly by a teenager.
Sixty years later, I was standing at her funeral.
I caught snippets of formal conversation.
“Aye, she was a lovely woman. Always had a kind word for everyone.”
“She lived a long and fulfilling life, God bless her soul.”
A solemn looking boy stood up. He must have been about fifteen, with sorrow making untimely creases on his face.
“My grandmother had a last wish,” he spoke, as everyone in the room perked up at his voice. “Would everybody please gather around the ice-box please? I’d rather tell it all to you so that she can see…” Here, he sniffed and wiped his nose with a tissue “…I kept my promise.”
Many obliging murmurs now. Piqued, I followed suit.
“Here, in this box, lies the best woman I ever knew. And her last wish was…”
He was cut short by a sudden onslaught of…was that blues music?
And was that coming from the ice-box?
“I want to break free! I want to breeeeak free!”
I wasn’t able to hear the rest of the song as it was muted out by the shrill screams of fear coming from the younger women in the room.
It hadn’t sunk in yet to the older people in the room. Their eyes had just popped out, their jaws were slack open, and they were shaking in fear.
Judging by the pandemonium, I could safely say that we’d probably be needing a few more ice-boxes soon.
The ‘solemn’ boy was crying his eyes out in laughter.
“Did you see that, Mom? Best thing I’ve done all my life! Oh, Grandma would’ve LOVED this!”
Well, at least I had expected something of that sort here. She wasn’t someone who would go back on her word, however casually made.
A few weeks later, I visited her house again. Things had pretty much sobered up there after her prank with the ice-box. It was a memorial service today.
The officiating priest had already begun speaking.
“Despite her light-hearted nature and her unfortunate impulse to play pranks on people…even when she was dead” Here, he glared at her grandson, whose laughing eyes were just like his grandmother’s, “…she was a wonderful lady and will be remembered. Peace be with all of us.”
A few sniffs were heard. Some heads shook darkly at her irreverence. Death was no laughing matter.
“Consolations can be offered at the lemon tree beneath which her ashes are buried,” a professional-looking woman showed the way.
A few of us rose to offer our prayers to the departed soul. She was our childhood friend, after all, and who could tell whether I’ll have the chance to come here again?
“May your soul rest in peace, my dear” I said, and stepped towards the tree, as the tangy smell of lemons overcame me. In her typical fashion, she had an X marked at the spot where her ashes had to be buried.
Oops.
Music blared from all the trees.
“Ha ha ha ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive! Ha ha ha ha, stayin’ aliiiiiiiiiiiive!”
Well, she definitely had fun at her funeral.
Can’t say the same for the woman who fainted at both the occasions though.
So hey, that’s my lame attempt at a comeback after months of silence. School sure can get tiring!
Oh, and the songs? “I Want To Break Free” is by Queen and “Stayin’ Alive” is by the Bee Gees. Lots of love to you if you see the connection.
Liked it? Hated it? Just meh? Let me know!
Discover Challenge: One, Two, Three!
via Discover Challenge: One, Two, Three!
One: Love is ablaze,
Emblazoning my heart with
Your name in passion.
Two: Whirlwind of thoughts
What am I doing? Is this
Truly meant to be?
Three: Cracks spread on my
Frozen heart, breaking it fur-
ther, beyond repair.
Flatmate
I unlocked my door and stepped in. What I saw jolted me.
It isn’t everyday that you get to see Cupid passed out drunk on your sofa.
True, I was now used to seeing him whizzing around the hall as I came back home, cursing the human world, heaven, and everything in between. But seeing him in such an inebriated state was quite disconcerting.
Coldplay’s Hymn For The Weekend was playing as I danced around the room, trying not to step on the shards of glass from the bottles that he had broken. Red wine had seeped through the carpet, creating a ghastly stain on it. Clearly, Cupid wasn’t in a good mood.
I kicked him, “Get up!”
Cupid groaned and turned over. He rubbed his eyes as the music vibrated throughout the hall.
“Yeah, baby! I’m feeling drunk and high, so high, so high!” Cupid whined along to the song. Red wine didn’t make his voice any better.
“What happened to you?” I yelled, frustrated.
“You. You happened to me,” he hiccuped, as the last strains of the song played.
I tilted his chin, looking him full in the face. His bleary red eyes glared back at me. His wings were flapping, purposely whacking my face.
“Ugh! What are your wings even MADE up of?”
“Pages from my favorite romantic novels.”
“…seriously?”
“Feathers, you dummy. Feathers,” he let out an exasperated sigh. “Why are you so stupid? Why can’t you go and fall in love with somebody so that I can go back to heaven?”
“But I DON’T want to fall in love! I’m perfectly happy with my life!”
“Well, I am not perfectly happy with my life!”he screamed.
There he goes again.
“All this pain of dealing with you because I made the wrong people fall in love! Jesus Christ!” He looked up, still cursing. “Do you not realize that I cannot escape this accursed punishment unless I find a mate for you?”
“Punishment? All I can see you doing is lounging around MY house. I’m the one getting punished, not you! I have to cook for two, clean for two, spend money for two…and all you do is break glass,” I gestured at the shards lying at my feet, “…and complain about me! You ungrateful wretch!”
Cupid was in as much as a rage as I was in. His fluttering wings would have looked quite pretty if they weren’t busy scratching my face. Feathery soft didn’t sound comfy right now..
“I’ll knock you off once I get my powers back,” he muttered.
“You and your stupid love arrows.”
“For the last time, I don’t use arrows anymore! I use love rifles! And thanks to you, I’ve run out of my last remaining bullets too! Now I will be stuck here for the rest of eternity!”
His alcohol high gone, Cupid dropped down on the sofa wearily. And just for a moment, I felt bad for the golden head that was bent in sorrow. Just for a moment.
“You hopeless creature. Go get me some more wine. I miss the liquor back home,” he sighed, as he tipped the last of the red wine I had illegally smuggled for him.
What an annoying flatmate to have.
#1 Harry Potter Moment Of The Week
Moment Of The Week
Hosted by Uncorked Thoughts, this is one of the most fascinating memes I came across, all credit to Bloggiesta! Held every Thursday, I’m starting from today (and you can count on me to post as long as this meme goes on!).
Today’s prompt is the best DADA teacher at Hogwarts. Frankly, I liked all of them except Professor Quirrel, Gilderoy Lockhart, and Dolores Umbridge (ugh!) but I guess I’d probably go with Remus Lupin. He is one of my favourite Harry Potter characters, and apart from that, he teaches his students pretty well despite his ‘disability’. He is a dream teacher for most HP fans. Who doesn’t want a cool werewolf-turned-teacher who empathises well with students (and who gives chocolates)?
Who is your favourite DADA teacher and why?
#1 Top Ten Tuesday
Hosted by the Broke and the Bookish, I discovered this awesome meme all thanks to Nut Free Nerd and Bloggiesta!
Today’s prompt are the top ten books from my childhood that I’d love to revisit. Thankfully, I’ve many such books that have left a lasting impression on me.
10. The Three Musketeers by Alexander Dumas – Though it is considered a pretty boyish book, I loved it.
9. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott – A simple story of the trials and tribulations of four sisters, this series had me crying and laughing in turns.
8. Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan – This book was a huge part of my middle-school days, and I’d love to read it again.
7. Evil Under The Sun by Agatha Christie – This is the first Christie I ever read, and had me completely enthralled by Hercule Poirot.
6. Thomasina by Paul Gallico – Absolutely magical story of a cat with three lives.
5. Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery – Classic. That one word describes everything about this series.
4. A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett – I started believing in Magic only when I read this book. Must read for everyone!
3. Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling – Who doesn’t like this series? An integral part of everyone’s childhood!
2. The Heroes of Olympus by Rick Riordan – This series is racy, pacy, thrilling, chilling, and whatever other adjectives you’d use to describe a YA book.
1. The Magic Faraway Tree by Enid Blyton – The magical feeling this series gives is unmatched by anything else I’ve read so far!
Blogging Fiesta Ahead!
The Bloggiesta is blogging marathon, held to help each other blog better. This week long event begins on 23rd March and end on 29th March.
Since I’m kinda busy with my exams, I’m going with the usual blueprint for the event.
A Bloggiesta Master To Do List!
❏ write two reviews
❏ update link lists and archive lists
❏ update Goodreads reviews
❏ clean up labels/tags
❏ do two mini challenges
❏ change or fix one thing on your sidebar
❏ add a page (about me, contact, policy, etc)
❏ change one thing on your layout and/or look
❏ comment on other Bloggiesta participants blogs
❏ participate in at least one Twitter chat
So, are you in with me?
A Friend Like You
“You stood by me,
When I was suffering…
You consoled me,
When I was crying…
You supported me,
When I was struggling.
What would I do,
Without a friend like you?
You know my darkest secret,
And my worst moments.
Even though you know me completely,
You always discover something new in me.
You have contributed to my success,
And helped me overcome my failures.
What would I do,
Without a friend like you?”
These are the first stanzas of the poem written by Krina, my best friend, and I last year for our school magazine (which never got published). We brainstormed this one, spending only one week for drafting,writing, editing, rewriting, and submitting the poem. I am proud to say that it received much appreciation from our jealous classmates.
Krina and I were more like best frenemies, I guess, We both had incredibly conflicting personalities – she was an extroverted, pretty, social butterfly; and I, an introverted, reclusive bookworm. We were not meant to be an example of perfect friendship.
Every other day, we’d yell at each other (okay, she’d rarely yell, I was the one who did all the yelling). Stuff like hearing “Don’t judge me, okay! Do you know ANYTHING about my life?” and “You…You used me! You used me completely like…like a tissue paper!!!” were common to our classmates. Often, these things sounded so stupid and cliched to ourselves that as soon as we said it, we’d forget our argument and start rolling on the floor with laughter. Such was our friendship.
Despite all our conflicts, we both had a common dream: to grow up, do well in our respective careers (Krina wants to be a vet while I want to be a lawyer, yeah, I love arguing), become rich, and then build a free school for poor kids with a pet shelter attached. Odd as it may seem, the school idea was Krina’s and the pet shelter idea was mine.
We have already designed the uniform, wanting it to be modern and snazzy, unlike our current uniform (which looks like something out of a 1940’s black-and-white TV). Our modern ideas don’t want to trouble kids with books. Solution? Use tabs!!! The school won’t have the same, old, boring model making – it’ll have cool, virtual 3D models. And most importantly, we won’t have the boring, drowsy teacher-student school – we’ll redefine the meaning of school. And we still hope that we will become rich enough to implement all these ideas – for free.
One vivid memory I cherish with my friends is the day I gobbled Krina’s lunch. She had brought this delicious aloo paratha to school. Hindi, the (then) most boring subject had just gotten over, and my friends and I were starving. I had brought a banana (ugh!!!) and my friends had fared no better. So when Krina opened her box of deliciously warm aloo paratha and sauce, it was too much to resist. Provided that her mom was an excellent cook. Suffice to say, I went home with a full stomach and an empty mind, thanking Krina, while Krina went home with an empty stomach and and a full mind – plotting revenge.
Our tastes vastly differed in music too. While I desired melodious pieces by Arijit Singh, Krina preferred Yo Yo Honey Singh’s rap. As a result: conflict. However, we overcame these differences very soon, and started liking the other’s faves. Now, I love Blue Eyes and she loves Milne Hai Mujse Aayi. In fact, it is more than that, we both are avid followers of both Arijit Singh and Yo Yo Honey Singh.
All said and done, we both are inter-dependent on each other. We live in a symbiotic relationship. Even now, whenever I am incredibly upset, I call her, have a good cry, get consolation, start smiling, and keep the phone. The same goes for her too.
What would I do without a friend like you, Krina???
The Werewolf
The rain pelted the ground like stones. The trees swayed with the wind, almost ready to topple. The full moon was glowing, like an epitome of hope in this dreary landscape. Amid these shadows, the figure moved.
It was tall and strong, with a rich brown coat, that was visible for a second in the moonlight. Its fangs, dripping with blood, was akin to the lightening flashing in the sky. And then, it howled. A howl so loud that it echoed throughout the country side. It was heart-numbing. A low growl, at the sight of prey.Then hurried footsteps, a scream, a pounce, and a thud. Contended eating, when – BANG.
Busy eating, the werewolf had missed the low crunch of footsteps. It howled; in sorrow, pain, rage, distress. Then another BANG. Another howl, destined to be its last. A thud. The rain pelted the ground like stones.
For the Writing Challenge.
The Epic Blog 