Seven #MicroTales


As the chemo nuked her, she thought of the times she had not allowed herself to express her anger. But it had found another way.


Failed to succeed? Or succeeded to fail? Only fear could make sense of an equation where failure equaled success.


The blood drip, drip, dripped from my cut finger. After you, I should have known that a beautiful rose was full of painful thorns.


He was choking her…then why was he struggling to breathe? He did not know that while she struggled, her hand was choking him.


“Why’d you do it? Why did you kill them?”

“The man in the moon told me to,” he said tilting his head, his eyes owl-like.


As the smooth Bailey’s Irish cream ice-cream made its way to her mouth, she closed her eyes in ecstasy. Life…was good.


She was shaking from inside as she held her dream in her hands and her friends did a mad dance around her. It had happened.


The Wait

The kid had been right about one thing…approaching the house she was locked in would not be easy. That perhaps was the only reason the gunslinger hadn’t made a move.

Without Lola in the picture, Hunter had had little to worry about. No one was lying in wait to snatch away the prize, no one wanted to kill him and people definitely didn’t give a rat’s ass if Romeo was alive or dead. He had been a nobody before and he was a nobody now.

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Looking in the mirror

Looking in the mirror
I saw an image that did not belong to me
There stood a young girl
With a smile on her face, stars in her eyes
And the world at her feet.
Who are you I asked a little perturbed
She looked familiar but still so different.

She said I’m your soul
Whom you seem to have forgotten
In your race against time to win all battles.
Remember we played hide and seek
As we rejoiced in the simple pleasures of life
With food, sleep and dreams
As our constant companions.

No no don’t remind me said I
Of the days that are gone
I was a different person then
But now I have evolved.
For better or worse, she asked
And I responded with a smile
There is no better or worse just movement.

Dividing your life between good and bad
Is a waste of time, said I
For all meaning comes from both the sides.
You truly have become your person, said she
If ever you forget this lesson
Knock on the inner door and here I’ll always be
To remind you to live as it should be.

The credit of this poem’s rhyme goes to my mother.

Tall People Problems

So I am tall.

In medical terms it means I am 179 cm and most nurses have to climb onto stools to be able to measure my height properly – it is 99% possible my height in numbers is incorrect,

In English that’s about 5′ 10″ and,

In Indian, it means I won’t find a husband *just kidding…maybe not*

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Get up!

Get up, get up
Didn’t you hear me?
You, hello, yes you
Why are you staring at me like that?
Didn’t you hear me say GET UP
I can’t it’s too hard
Get up you fool
don’t you want to get better?
I do, I do,
But I can’t – don’t you get it?
I would if I could
But I can’t that’s why I need you
Stop being a lazy bum!
Get up, get up
Oh no, he won’t listen to me!
He won’t even get up
There is nothing we can do
So what we give up?
Yes we give up
He’s someone else’s problem now.

This was inspired by ‘real’ events and the impatience of ‘real’ people providing care to someone who needs it. It is easy to proclaim that someone is being ‘difficult’ and not trying hard enough. If someone is going through a bad phase, it is up to us to show perseverance and not the other way around. After all, if they could ‘get up,’ they wouldn’t need our hand now would they?

Starting September, I will be trying to commit more to my blog by following an editorial calendar. This is a part of Blogchatter’s challenge – #MyFriendAlexa – to better your blog’s Alexa Rank by the end of the month by #BetterBlogging.

#ExtractShare – Macbeth

If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well
It were done quickly: if the assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch
With his surcease success; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
We’d jump the life to come.

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Five #MicroTales

The door must hold…that order lost him the war. The door indeed held – held while the troops were slaughtered, as they tried to break free.

And as the sun rose, he returned to his empty bed and she walked away from her funeral pyre to return to the light above.

Though they were together, he was thinking of another’s kiss while she was dreaming of the lush, full breasts of her lover.

He saw her and tears rolled down his face. He had helped made this. If nothing else, this would be his legacy – his daughter.

She came into my life when I least expected – so beautiful, so perfect. And then the torture began. Is this what having a muse means?

Starting September, I will be trying to commit more to my blog by following an editorial calendar. This is a part of Blogchatter’s challenge – #MyFriendAlexa – to better your blog’s Alexa Rank by the end of the month by #BetterBlogging.