Nov 30, 2008
I flicked the Zippo's wheel, the flint caught the flame and started to burn with a slow sputter. Shading the flame with my hand I lit the cigarette in my mouth, taking a deep drag to let the flame catch. The minty taste of the tobacco filled my mouth and I flipped the lighter close.
I took the cigarette from my mouth and placed it between her lips. She took a satisfied, long drag, touched my cheek and said, "You're a sweetheart."
And I felt loved.
I could have written more, but I think nothing more can be written after this.
A humble and insincere thanks to everyone for reading this whole week. A summing up post tomorrow and then...who knows!
Nov 29, 2008
A tentacled figure rose out of the fog, and hovered silently over the boat. It observed the entangled couple with the interest a child shows in a new game.
The girl opened her eyes mid-kiss, noticed the floating tentacles and leapt off the boy with a startled yelp. The boy looked around confused at the green mist that was now covering half their boat and tried to calm the girl, but his own rising panic was enough to send the girl into a crying fit of hysteria.
"YOU!" thundered the green tentacled figure and pointed at the girl. The girl stopped crying at once, her tears choked back by the fear of the unknown.
"It's bad manners," the floating form said, "to open your eyes when kissing."
Really bad manners.
Nov 28, 2008
But the man continued clapping. He sat cross-legged in the dust and clapped a rhythm with the steady taps of the fingers of one hand on the other palm. His head lost somewhere in the lands behind his closed eyes. His clapping made out a rhythm sad and melancholy, calling some Spanish senorita to one last dance.
Some dusky beauty with a twirling skirt, anklets on her feet, legs brown in the sun, clothes clean, yet stained with dirt and sweat of her life, her hair black as the night, tied up with a bandana the color of rainbows.
The man opened his eyes and looked at the girl, so unlike the girl in his mind, who threw a coin in front of him. He continued with his clapping, a beat now asking questions, cajoling, and teasing a reply out of the new listener. The hair gel in his hair melted slowly and shone on his head like a balm for madness.
The girl looked down at him, smiled, and said, "Sorry hon, not today, maybe tomorrow."
The man smiled back, nodded and kept on clapping.
The slow net connection almost seemed determined to not let me post the story before 12 today, but well, here we are, 11.41 PM IST. This one was inspired by the beggar I saw on the bus station who was asking for, well, money, but then I thought, hey put him in a sit and see how many people will give him money. And then, would babes pay him more attention than they were doing at that moment? Ah, I digress.
Nov 27, 2008
"What is it today man?"
"What asshole! Didn't you see the TV? There is so much terrorism out there!"
"So! SO! So?!! That shit is bad dude."
"Oh yeah? How?"
"It's like, man, this shit is like, disturbing the peace and all that and killing people man, and innocent people!"
"Lot of innocent people?"
"oh ah. Well, ok. Hey, look my torrent just finished downloading!"
"What is it?"
"The new Max Payne movie man."
"COOOOOL! Let's watch!"
I almost didn't post it. But I did just now. Can't say the shit doesn't affect me, but its like a routine now, this terrorism thing. It's sad and complex, and we can all cry ourselves hoarse in blogsphere but it won't make difference worth one paisa. So, what to do? I don't know, but what I do know is that half of you are downloading something even now, cuz I am.
Fourth story, 11.35 PM IST. Three More to go.
Nov 26, 2008
"Shitfuck." Jerra said to no one in particular. She was alone in the elevator when she had taken it from the ground floor and no one had stopped the machine till the 31st floor and this was where the elevator stopped, by itself.
She pressed the emergency button on the panel but it remained dead as a dodo. She rummaged around in her bag for her cellphone but it wasn't there. In the darkened box, Jerra slowly started taking each thing out of her handbag and started throwing it on the floor. After a while when the floor around her feet got crowded with random articles of female survival, still there was no sign of her cellphone. She slammed the bag on the wall in frustration.
"HELP! Somebody Help!" she screamed in panic, but no reply came back to her. She felt the slow shiver of panic make its way up from the base of her spine to the back of her mind. "I'm gonna die here, oh my god, I'm gonna fuckin die in here."
The first tear crawled out of her eye and started its journey to the floor through the way of her cheek. A sharp fingernail stopped the teardrop on her cheek and drew blood as it dug into her skin. She winced in pain and jerked back from the hand.
"Now, I'm not the one to scare my meal, but I don't like see a pretty girl crying." the bass in the deep voice made the walls of the elevator vibrate.
"Who are you? How did you get in here?" she asked between sobs that were on verge of turning to cries.
"Ah, stupid meals, should have taken the stairs. Hush now, and I'll make it quick."
The thought of being trapped in a small metal box in darkness kind of scares the shit out of me. I prefer the stairs. Always. This is the third story this week, 10.36 IST. See ya tomorrow!
Nov 25, 2008
She walked into that dark place with the confidence of a lioness walking a kindergarten. Everyone was a prey for her and her demeanor made it clear that she was not someone to be fucked with, metaphorically.
Her elegant black backless dress and the short crop of hair did little to hide her elaborate dragon tattoo which shimmered and sucked in the darkness as she moved. The tattoo wove its way starting from her shoulder to her back, curving its way around her waist and vanishing somewhere which every man in the club wanted. We were all pretty sure about the tail of the dragon while its teeth bared their malfeasance at us.
She walked up to the bar and someone had already placed a barstool even before her bottom started to descend into horizontal from vertical. The barman polishing a clean glass with a dirty cloth moved in her direction with a leer on his face.
"What will it be then m'dear?" he asked.
A shark-ish grin made its way on her face with the sluggishness of a drunk man trying to wake up.
"The same as always dude, a beer and a double cheese hamburger." a rough voice said from her mouth and almost all the people in bar who knew the voice did a bottoms up to drown their sorrow. It was Psycho Mike-o's voice. Psycho Mike-o who always said he was a woman trapped in a man's body. The most obnoxious piece of shit to ever set foot in Ten Thousand Elephants bar.
She turned around on her stool and addressed the bamboozled group of people in the bar.
"Hey guys! Nice surprise or what? The doctors who changed me said my voice will become more like me once I'm down, if you know what I mean." she added a wink to her sentence that made everyone cringe.
And in the silence that engulfed the bar, someone sighed.
"You all can call me Myko now." she said as she put the beer mug to her lips and drained it in one go.
Pretty misleading, no? It's ok, you should've gotten used to it by now. 11.08 IST here. I'm planning something short and violent tomorrow. I didn't like the word length on this one, but well a story has to be told! Cheers! ;)
Nov 24, 2008
The destruction caused by the cube rain was unprecedented. Cities were demolished by that evil rain on that dark night. The cubes piled up on themselves in the streets, they didn't melt and they didn't vanish with the sun. They got stuck in the wheels and the insides of the machines that were brought in to clean them up. The acids didn't melt them and cleaning them by hand was nigh impossible. The waters in the rivers clogged and froze within itself due to some strange reaction with the cube rain. Electric wires snapped with the weight of the cubes as they stuck and clung to them. Most displaced cubes turned to a slushy, pink colored goo every night (the darkness seemed to have something to do with it) and this made it impossible for people of the world to wade through the sludge every morning. The cubes that were not moved from their positions were the same come morning.
So, after due considerations and several votes in the upper echelons of the government, the parents of the world did the only thing they could do.
They let loose the kids on the streets.
It was a grand day for the children of the world. They picked up the solid cubes and ate, ate and ate till their teeth were sticky and they hands smelled of strawberry, mint and kiwifruit. Every night the mothers and father of the Cube Cub Army brushed the teeth of the gallant soldiers with industrial strength toothpastes and then in the morning they were on the streets again, cleaning the cubes by the only way they knew, the only way that was possible, eating them.
A year passed. Most streets had some semblance of cleanliness though the pink goo was still present in places.
Then, they sky grew green once more.
And it rained bricks. Of different colors.
Right now, 11.32 IST.
More madness tomorrow!
Nov 22, 2008
Nov 21, 2008
Fading is the sun that shone
We must speak of other matters
You can be me when i'm gone.
Flowers gathered in the morning
Afternoon they blossom on
Still are withered by the evening
You can be me when i'm gone.
Sent from my mobile device
Nov 12, 2008
Except a thin, dead, non pulsing line on the cardiogram monitor of online communication.
It all began when the scientists made the computers able to smell, giving them one more human sense and then in a some god forgotten part of the world, a geek made a computer 'feel'. Sadly, that computer was connected to the internet through a hi speed broadband connection. The "feelings" spread like black cloud over the sphere of worldwide communication. It was dread, fear, sadness, resignation, shame, depression, anger and suicidal tendencies all mixed into one lethal cocktail that fucked up the internet.
Soon, the net addicts were scrambling over to government secured lease lines to check their emails, myspaces, and facebooks, little realizing there was no one on the other end who could send a message. The MMORPG grounds were vacant, the blogs were not blogged and no one was twittering anymore. Radio became popular and television got more unpopular, doling out its breaking news bullshit to anyone who would care to watch.
We, the geeks, the fat kids of our generation, went out and said hello to our neighbors. We took the dog out for a walk. We went for a jog. We went to libraries instead of googling for information. We bought CDs instead of downloading songs. We started to read books. We started real relationships. We wrote on paper with pens and pencils, wondering, for the first time in years, how our handwriting got so bad. We stopped jerking off to porn and tried, unsuccessfully to get laid.
Most of us perished in the process. The rest of us, Geeks, started rebuilding the internet.
Humanity never really gives up. We were too gory in last story, how's this one for a thought?
Things are heating up at The Fucked Up, and we are making preperation for a Seven Story Suckfest. Soon, keep watching this space.