Sunday, 29 April 2012

A prisoner of trust

Shakespeare had it right after all,
The world is a stage,
And all the 'children' actors,
Merely puppets
Of the true directors
They, who don't
Pay us in money
But in love and hope
And sanctuary
Make us sign
A bond without reading
And we became a slave
To their heeding
We can't do but comply
For they hold our strings
Not with their hands or mind
But with the all too expected cry
'we gave you the love, the hope, the joys,
Now it's your turn to comply'
And we bound in shackles
Of love and hope
A prisoner of trust
Never free to go...

The trust is astounding
The believe, unbelievable
We are but in debt
To dare unforgivable
For it I they who brought us to life
And hence they,
Wo have a right to decide
Our goals, our aims,
Our fate, our life,
And we bound in shackles of love and hope
A prisoner of trust
Never free to go
A prisoner of trust
Never free to go...

Wednesday, 11 April 2012

The writer



She sits at her desk, oblivious to her surroundings, taking refuge in the open notebook and joy in the blue scrawls of her pen. This is her world, her passion, her life. She enjoys the recluse, the serenity of the place she can call her own. And without stepping out of this sanctuary she can visit places anywhere- in this world and the next. Her little desk supports her weight and the burden of her thoughts. The blank sheets of paper silently, without complaining bear anything- from the dread of death to the bliss of life; just like her pen which can kill as well as create. And she is the leader of this orchestra, the commander of this army, the monarch of a kingdom of her own making. Together with her tools- no, her friends-she creates magic...

Her sparkling web of stories humours, influences, encourages or simply awes millions of readers around the globe. She can make them smile, laugh and on many occasions cry out loud for the beauty and sadness of it all. She can make make them feel proud in the same way she can make them feel sorry. She writes and they read. She makes them hear music of hope where there is only the sound of death. 

People think that she is like the characters she writes. But few know, she is not her characters; they have an identity of their own. She is not them, just as they are not her. She is not the person in her stories. She is someone else. Someone not seen, seldom heard from. Someone who everyone recognises but no one truly knows. And in this anonymity she finds her fame...

Monday, 9 April 2012

The stranger: Part three


So here it is folks! Hope that this part doesn’t let you down.
If you haven’t read part one and two yet, I would recommend doing so to get a better grip of the story.  As always your feedback and reviews are highly appreciated.
Happy reading!

“He’s back! He’s back!” One of the white clad figures said.
“Well…that was fast…”
*

DK5643 jerked up awake. How long have I been out? Where am I?  Am I dead?

He remembered the blast so clearly-though he hadn’t felt any pain- that he could not believe that he was alive.

I am dead. He told himself. Me being alive isn’t possible.

And then he heard a noise; A slight whirring noise. For the first time he looked at his surroundings. Wires. Everywhere. Large screens. And what was that? An ECG machine? Whatever it was, wherever he was, it sure wasn’t heaven.

Maybe some intermediate stage.

He tried to lift his head but there was some weird metal contraption hindering his motion. His hands were tied to whatever he was lying down upon.

Ok. Now this is strange.

He heard a door open. In walked a number of people in lab coats. Pharmacists?

“Well done Mr. D. You lasted longer than we thought.” One of them said.

“Huh?” He started. And then it all came back in a flash.

“Hey! You’re the SOS guys, right?”

“Yes. You paid us to give you an adventure of your life. And I hope we most certainly did.”

“Oh! That was all a dream then?”

“Virtual reality Mr. D,” he said, “virtual reality…”

“So how did I do?” He asked eagerly.

“To start with…”
*

Now it all came back to him. The SOS group was one of the world’s biggest gaming industries. And they had a new venture- kidnapping. But there was a twist. The players had to pay for their own kidnapping. They were promised an almost real life experience. And now he knew what they meant. Virtual reality.

He had filled out a form specifying what atrocities he wanted bestowed upon him (wake up to find out he forgot everything), where he wanted to be found (in a forest, preferably unconscious) and how he wanted to die (umm…something stupendifyingly extreme).

Wow! They really had done their job well and the blast was by far his favorite.

The wonders of modern science…a bit too much, ay?

*

So I really hope it wasn’t a letdown. I just thought that this would make quite an unexpected twist. Don’t you agree?

Friday, 6 April 2012

The stranger: Part two

Ok… so I kinda hit a blank wall after part one, but I’m hoping that this would be as enjoyable as the one before. As always, your feedback is appreciated.
P.S.  For those who haven’t read part one, I would highly recommend doing so to get a better understanding of the story.
Happy reading!

It was quite strange. The environment; the atmosphere; the people. Especially the people. For one thing they were the farthest from the people he had known before. Which made him question: What kind of people he had known?

The little compound he had reached after a treacherous trek in the woods, turned out to be full of people. All kinds. Men, women, kids…even the odd dangerous kinds.

“Fit in or get your head cut off.” He had been warned. Most of his questions went unanswered along with ‘what is this place’ and ‘who are these people.’ After all his money was snatched away-‘your price to stay here’- he had just been whisked to a small windowless room and had stayed there for the past few days-no questions asked, none answered.

A knock on the door indicated the dinner had arrived. But he was surprised to hear the tiniest whisper.
“Open the door, quick!” the urgency in the tone made him open the door without delay. In came a tiny man, so short, for a second he mistook him for a kid.
“DK5643?” the man asked and he was surprised to hear that number again. Surprise gave way to suspicion and then finally relief-relief that someone knew him, that someone held the answer to all his questions.
“Who are you? Who am I? What am I doing here?” the questions came in a burst.
“I don’t know who are you but I do know you’ll be dead soon, unless…”
“Unless what? What are you talking about?”
“I heard that tonight is a night of celebration. And mind you, nights of celebration always begin with a sacrifice. You have to run away before that.”
“What makes you think I’d believe you?”
“Well, it’s either that or your life.”
He pondered that for a second.
“Where will I go? I don’t even know who I am!!”
“I know a safe place a few miles out. I can trek with you. We leave in an hour. Remember; don’t leave the room before I come back. Don’t listen to whatever anyone says. They’d try to turn you against me. They don’t want you to leave. After all, you are their sacrifice… ”

The tiny man walked away and DK5643 stood there stupefied. Could he trust that man? He had no idea who was he-a friend or a foe? Hell! He didn’t have any idea who he himself was. Answers to his questions lay in that man and he wouldn’t let him go so easily…

Right a minute after he left, there was another knock on the door. Before he could open it, someone slipped a note underneath. He picked it up.

Sometime soon, if not already, you’ll meet a man. He is going to pretend that he’ll save your 
life. Don’t listen to him. He is lying. He once was a member of this clan, but something went wrong and he threatened us that every night of the full moon he would kill one of our members. We aren’t allowed to talk about it. If they find that I have tried to protect you they are going to kill me. We haven’t lost anyone for the past five years and I don’t want you to be the first… keep safe.

He shivered as he read the note. The man was right. They would stop him from going. But what if the note was true? He started to reason with himself. If the people here knew that there would be a killing tonight, why hadn’t they tightened the security? Why write to him when they could as well confront him? The more he thought, the more he believed in that tiny man. He had told him they would try to stop him. He was right.
He waited for the man to come back. Just as decided, he knocked on the door an hour later.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“DK.” He said. It was the closest to the name he had. Ironic, cause the initials actually stood for don’t know.
“Ok, DK call me Stan. Let’s get out of here.”

They made their out of the compound, swiftly and silently. He could hear the laughter of the people enjoying their ‘night of celebration.’ As they walked pass an open doorway, he saw a man trapped in a guillotine. He shivered. If it wasn’t for Stan, it would have been him. This proved that he could trust him.
*
The scientists worked furiously, comparing notes, checking and rechecking their evaluations. The lab, twelve floors underground, was a frenzy of action. DK5643 had turned out different from their other subjects. He had blindly believed the person who called himself Stan, and followed him out of the safe house. Now that was strange. Most people checked the authenticity of the story first. But then again, his blind faith could come in handy…
*
“Hey Stan, when are we going to reach that ‘safe place’ of yours?” DK asked him after they had been trekking for almost over an hour.
“Almost there…” he replied.

A few minutes later, they reached a small clearing, with a number of little huts. They were numbered in an odd way. Two alphabets, followed by a four digit number. Almost like… He opened the piece of paper.
DK5643.

And there it was, on a small hut ahead, the same number which had been haunting him for days. DK5643.

He ran towards it, as Stan took a step back hiding a smile.

He opened the door, and bright flash of light blinded him. He could smell something burning but couldn’t feel anything.

From a safe distance away, Stan witnessed the huge ball of fire engulfing DK5643-the hut and the man…


So like I said, I had a writer’s block and I’m not really sure if this was up to the mark. I’ll try to make up for it in part three… :)

Monday, 2 April 2012

The stranger: Part one

This is part one of an i-don't-know-how-many-parts story. It depends on the feedback. 
Happy reading!


He opened his eyes to a world he did and did not know. Who was he? What was he? He looked around taking in his surroundings. The trees were the same colour he remembered but something was wrong about them. The wet soil reminded him of a faint memory which disappeared before he could grasp it. The sun shone brilliantly like always, but it was as if he was seeing everything through a fog. He stood up, still wobbly from the…again the memory evaded him. What had happened?

He stared down at the clothes he was wearing. Pockets. There could be some clues in his pockets. He emptied them. Out came a few notes, some coins and a few other odds and ends. He rummaged through them. The notes looked like the normal Indian currency but again different. His memory was hazy and he couldn’t spot the difference. A piece of paper fell on the ground. He picked it up, his heart beating fast. It could hold an answer to his questions. His hands trembled as he opened it and at first he couldn’t understand what he saw. He flipped it around, looked at it upside down, turned it over, but all he could see was a number. A simple number.

DK5642

He glanced at it a second time, looking for something he had missed. But it had only a number. That was all. All he knew of himself was a number. He crumpled the paper and stuffed it inside his pockets.
Where am I? Who am I? How did I get here? The questions seemed endless and the only answer lay in 
that flimsy piece of paper. In DK5642.

He had to know where he was. And the easiest way of finding out was finding civilisation. If there is one in this place. He trudged along the forest path in the direction he thought was north. All the while he tried to remember who he was. What was he doing before he got in this place. Another memory flitted in his mind. Staying beyond his reach; taunting him. He groaned in frustration. What is happening to me?

He took out the piece of paper again. As long as there was light, he might as well make use of it. He stared at it. DK5642. He strained his mind to remember. Nothing. He hit a blank wall.

Dawn gave way to dusk and soon he found himself utterly alone, engulfed in darkness. An owl hooted in the distance and he could just make out the howl of a wolf. He shuddered. If he couldn’t get to a safe house soon, he would be animal chow by morning.

He spotted a faint light in the distance and his heart skipped a beat. The more he walked toward it, the more certain he was that it was not an illusion. An overwhelming sense of relief flooded him. He felt giddy. Away from civilisation meant away from himself. Finding people meant finding his soul.
A cool breeze ruffled the leaves and made him shiver. He had to get out of this place, fast…

*

“Any progress?” the white haired, man asked his assistant.
“DK5642 has made it to safe house one.”
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