The Perfect Ex - Romantic Friday Writers

Had to enter the fray, since this will be the last RFW entry till August for me.

Based on the prompt of the same name as the title, a story or poem in 400 words or less.

Puts away his clothes as usual.
the routine followed each night,
He stands by, saying nothing.
Adjusts the covers on the queen sized bed,
another of those things to be done,
 aware of his eyes on the movements made.

That night, they lie down together one last time.
she knows, he knows, pretend otherwise.
Hold her hand, promising another string of lies,
she believed them often, now, not one.

The dark, sleepless hours seem never ending,
her courage peaks and wanes.
The dawn should bring respite for both,
 She, for once, no longer plays
the imperfect specimen of the wife,
embarking on the new journey of a perfect ex.

Lost in the pride of his invincibility,
a blind heart in denial of the inevitability.
These six weeks past mark her revenge
 a small price for the six years he has stolen.

The house is clean, the fridge is stocked,
the dinner awaits him on the dining table,
most of her things, he claimed took valuable space,
gone from this house empty of her footsteps.
All that remain are the few material pieces
he boasted to be acts of needless generosity.

She leaves behind memories of the past,
could choke and strangle any feeling mortal.
 Takes along enough of a future,
 no share or meddling by him, afraid not, any more.

 wc 217



For Romantic Friday writers



Writing after a fortnight was tough, I struggled and barely pulled through.

I posted this just about managing to keep the friday score. Will be visiting the others tomo and also those kind ones that read my previous post.

Awards Nite

Since today is for celebrating my English birthday based on DOB with cakes and eating out, and tomo my Tamil bday (based on birth-star constellation in the horoscope) with traditional Indian food and visit to the temple ...decided on celebrating the duality of blog awards. Some long overdue thanks for awards received over 2011-12 and passing them on. They come with their own set of rules...but the birthday gal reserves the right to break them and offer them to anyone who reads this post and two awards for visitors all through June.

Special thanks for
 the Kreativ blogger award  received from Jan (recent follower) which demands revealing 7 things about me and passing it on to 7 people.












 The Versatile blogger award from
Treelight ( befriended during Campaign challenge),
Jayleigh Cape,
Seabell and Tiberbrite (from Jingle poetry group)
demanding 7 random info on me and passing on to 15 people.












 The Liebster Award from Nutschell for blogs  with less than 300 followers last June. (sheepish and sorry)






The Paperclip award from Traci Kenworth ....supposed to answer 12 questions not me...

 The Booker award from Christine for book bloggers or ones with 50% focus on reading or writing books.











So I choose my seven sins as I call it...
Clumsy till about 35...funny, while the sense of balance supposedly deteriorates with age...mine has improved with time... I used to choose the most crowded places to trip over nothing - the bus stop, the railway platform/bridge, the college canteen, the office corridor, the school ground, the busiest street, the airport/mall escalators. I guess, I craved the attention...another reason I broke up with high heels after just three years of casual dating.

 I have been wearing contact lenses for two decades now - not blind as a bat, but can only see blurred images without my glasses beyond six feet...that my glasses used to frequently threaten to slip off my bridge-less nose was one of the reasons, the other being childhood and teen years' taunts. So, next time you make fun or see someone making fun of people on the basis of appearance, please remember, it can have a life long effect on the victim's self confidence more so when the person is sensitive and shy to begin with. (like yours truly)

27 years of Bombay life has made me open minded, tolerant, cosmopolitan, multilingual, dreamer, creative, neutral-agnostic and much more. I love it, having lived through 16 years of bombings, a communal riot, a flood and a couple of earthquakes; the only city I call home even though I currently live hundreds of miles away.

Lover of all things English (read British) except the weather, superiority complex...and the food, all meat and too bland even for the likes of me....I dream, even sleep talk/scream in English (atleast that's what my mom and ex hubby said) though I am fluent in three Indian language among others....

Was married for 6 1/2 years so I can't really blame the 7 year itch for its ending, though nowadays, its supposed to be the three year itch.

 I am a reasonably good singer, and with training, I could have been much better. As a child, was too rebellious to learn anything that conservative-traditional girls from the Brahmin communities of South India were/are supposed to, like classical music, classical instruments, classical dance, cooking, religious stuff etc (lucky, my mom was liberal enough)...regret not learning music though.
Hell, this infidel even dreamt of a love marriage over an arranged one...my family would have needed buckets of holy water (read river Ganges) to cleanse my mind, if I had found someone crazy enough to love me back.

A passport with no stamps yet. Hope to rectify it on my 40th or 45 th bday by going to Dubai and/or Singapore. Unfortunately Eygpt, Italy and Greece will have to wait for the reincarnated me...if I manage to be born again on planet Earth.

 As rewards for your patience,
I pass on the Kreativ and Versatile blogger awards to all my followers and commenters.

I have a Reader appreciation award for those who read my posts and specially to participants of memes and blogfests who bother to visit me.

In order to accept this award need to do the following:

List something you’ve been up to lately
Nominate 6 other blogs (optional)

I leave you all with wishes for a great week ahead and a picture of the still fat ole me. (but I lost 4 kgs in 4 months not bad...12 more to reach my pre-marriage weight of 56 kgs. I still have two years to accomplish it)
We had a family cake cutting on the bed as my bro (stuck in his hotel room because of the jubilee celebrations of the Queen's reign) wanted to join in on web chat from london.

P.s. I will be skipping my IWSG post this wed as my nephews hog my time and comp. See you all from 9 or 10 June. 

Journey's End? - Flash Fiction Blogfest

It's the 2nd Annual Flash Fiction Blogfest (may21-23) hosted by Cherie Reich to celebrate her third year blogversary. It doubles up as a competition with three winners getting Amazon gift cards.  Open voting on may28.

Check out the linky list of other flash writers here.
A piece of flash 300 words or less beginning with the words Lightning Flashed.

Lightning flashed in the distance. They sans one huddled closer drawing comfort from each other. The swirling black clouds were visible indicating that their journey was at its end. Yet, darkness would arrive before them. The winding road seemingly friendly an hour ago was at its treacherous best. The trees lining both sides were gnarled in places, hideous stumps at others, the roots spreading out onto the pathway like greedy fingers. The leafless branches rustled and bent towards them. This is an illusion. The shaman’s dying warning echoed. Icy hands trailed through their limbs. Fear, the warriors accepted, welcomed, but this unseen entity chilled their hearts, dulled their instincts, made them cower like the villagers they were bound to protect.

Ashan, the self appointed leader, twirled his blood stained scimitar. Basher balked at the other’s impatience, then nudged the unsure group forward. He waited for the one tagging behind. She moved with firm, alert steps belying her tender age. She had impressed Bashir by offering to be the bait. The council had happily agreed.

 He had sworn then to protect her with his life.  

A flash of light revealed the looming grey castle. Thunder made its presence felt. Then. Utter silence. They stopped a few feet away from the gates. Ashan turned to Bashir. “Take the girl and walk ahead. We follow close behind.”

Why single me out? “Come. It’s time.” in the kindest tone he could manage.

One of the gates unbolted, wide enough for a person to pass through.

 He stopped her as she moved forward. “I go first.”

The iron door closed behind them. Bashir rushed back trying in vain to wrench it open.

His reward was bloodied fingers.

Yasmin watched him, the slow hunger now a raging need. The warrior’s blood smelled sweet. A feast tonight.

Wc 300 Exact.

*Love using Asian characters since they are few and far between beyond our shores.

Light Hearted Magick?

She giggled...Neeta struggled to keep a straight face lest they draw attention to themselves.

Zack frowned, his irritation increasing with every passing minute. He could barely wait for the demo session to end.

Cathy, awaiting her turn, tried to catch their attention, her efforts only drawing puzzled looks from the twins seated behind them.

"Is something wrong with your eyes?" one asked 

When she didn’t respond “Trying to seduce my little brother, are we?"

'Little?' sizing up the boy who needed an entire bench to stretch his never ending limbs.

"That must be understatement of the century" with a quiet chuckle.

"Shut up jokers!" the other one hissed,

"I'll turn you both into bats if I get pulled up this time."

They glared at him, about to resort when she giggled again.

Zack got up in a huff only to freeze in place. Her warm hands pulling him back never failed to elicit the familiar response. Small, almost black eyes reprimanded him for breaking their contact abruptly.

Master, who had ignored them all this while was now forced to acknowledge the distraction from the eastern end of the chamber. He was aware of every thought, hushed whispers or otherwise. Faced with no other viable option, squelching the rumours that questioned his authority was a priority.  The first step towards the goal demanded that they be punished.

Pity, the girls were his best friend's nieces. Reluctantly, he called the three of them over.

Zack wasn't sure he could keep himself from casting the 'bent back' hex on the girls, seeing their calm, detached expressions. He didn't want to, not her anyway. He was pleasantly surprised when Master handed them the after session chores.

Planting seeds, magical ones at that was boring but not hard.

The sulking part of him did not share in his relief. This is not we had planned. The reminder was dampener on his spirits. He had volunteered to be the telepathic medium for the girls with an ulterior motive...a desperate need to find a clue, a confirmation of her interest in him. And here they were, digging up the soil with dancing hands, where he could have been plotting his next move with the guys. He didn't find his love for the 'flying ducks' night suit funny, she obviously did.

wc384

Today is  International Flash Fiction Day in the U.K...decided to post my fiction here and not on their site. You can check the other fantastic stories here.

* I got into Pottermore this week...a cute, interactive site. And while I received an Alder-Phoenix...they sorted me into bloody Gryffindor. I wanted to join Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff since we all know enough about the red house. Incidentally, I was put in a red house during my schooling years till 10th grade. I always envied my bro's blue badge.

* My nephews are turning up next week...surprise, as my bro is off to London for two weeks and the elder one has summer vacation till June 13. So June 4 is the only day I will be posting during the first week. I will be using my birthday to thank the bloggers/ettes whose awards I still have to acknowledge and pass on to the rest of you. Do visit the post, as I will be passing on certain awards.


* Any comments on the story welcome, but polite put downs please.

My First Loves - For The Blogfest

 First Loves Blogfest hosted by Alex Cavanaugh...


First loves blogfest by songsnwords on GoAnimate

Hi Alex...bloggers, blogettes...welcome to my version of the First Loves Blogfest. You can see and hear the one minute video if you are feeling lazy to read...more or less the same words.

 At 9 years, second year in the new school in Bombay...my first love, you could say, offered me chocolates for his birthday. All I remember is his being tall for our age, with a cute smile and beautiful light brown eyes.
The other real one was an unrequited one at 22 but that's "classified information".

First book I loved was a gift by my dad's cousin, 'Firebird And Other Russian Fairy Tales' printed in what was once U.S.S.R. It has beautiful illustrations and pages with border art, but now kind of brittle to touch.

Let's get this straight...I am saying, the first movie I loved was Jackie Chan's 1978 released Drunken Master with atrocious English dubbing.

First English song l loved was Boney M's Rasputin, and the first band I listened to and liked was Beatles, the song Kansas City.

Glad to have you here and hope everyone who visited enjoyed this rather one sided conversation, hee hee.

The Backworlds Book Launch Party

A vision of how humanity might colonize the galaxy some day in the distant future?

The Backworlds is here!

The first story in the Backworlds series by M. Pax. 

 The Backworlds

After the war with Earth, bioengineered humans scatter across the Backworlds.

Competition is fierce and pickings are scant. Scant enough that Craze’s father decides to

hoard his fortune by destroying his son. Cut off from family and friends, with little money,

and even less knowledge of the worlds beyond his own, Craze heads into an uncertain

future. Boarding the transport to Elstwhere, he vows to make his father regret this day.

Available from: Amazon / AmazonUK / Smashwords / Feedbooks

Other links to more outlets can be found at either Wistful Nebulae or MPax

The Backworlds is an ebook and a free read at Smashwords

and Feedbooks as of now.

It’ll take a few weeks to a free read status on Amazon Kindle. It will also be

available on B&N and iTunes. Sign up for M. Pax’s mailing list to be notified the day it

does go free on Amazon, and when the book becomes available at other outlets. You’ll

also receive coupons for discounts on future publications. 

NEWSLETTER

M. Pax’s inspiration comes from the wilds of Oregon, especially the high desert where

she shares her home with two cats and a husband unit. Creative sparks also come from

Pine Mountain Observatory where she spend her summers working as a star guide. She

writes mostly science fiction and fantasy, but confesses to an obsession with Jane Austen.

She blogs at her website, www.mpaxauthor.com and at Wistful Nebulae. You’ll find links

there to connect on Twitter, Goodread, FB and other sites.

The sequel, Stopover at the Backworlds’ Edge, will be released in July 2012. It will be

available in all ebook formats and paperback.

Wrong Timing?

After two months, back with my entry for Saturday Centus at Jenny Matlock's blog...any genre, P.G as far as possible, not to exceed 100 words plus the prompt in bold.. Check the other pleasure trips there.

The interview had held a lot of promise, one of the better ones she had given in recent times. Nevertheless, waiting for the elusive call was unnerving. She went about the everyday chores, no longer languorous. The meals were planned,  their calorie content checked, examined her closet, deeming most of the clothes as good enough for office wear. She checked her inbox a dozen times a day. The phone went everywhere she went. Today, at lunch, a beep was heard. She unlocked the screen in nervous excitement. The message read, “It is our pleasure to invite you to Exhale holiday homes, nature awaits.”

my origins

 A nervous hi, takes a seat...
"My origins...from India, so I guess ..." jumps up in alarm as Robyn Engel  from Life By Chocolate, present here on persistent pleading butts in.
"Rek, Rek...%&#$@" does a face-palm, accuses me " You hoodwinked us all this time!! Took you to be a smart, witty woman who knows her ifs and buts..."
I , as usual, burst into tears melting her kind heart. She pats my head (in a petting way) " Come now, here, have a chocolate."
Pouting "Hello, trying to lose weight here."
She mutters" More like losing steam and our audience."
"Alex! Tbone!" she hollers, literally yanking them off their chairs...giving them a 'don't mess with me' look
"Be my guest!" and thunders her way out.
I whimper, still licking a dark bit, "Robyn, Wait!"
Tbone clears his throat, "Look Lady, We don't have all day...220 odd others waiting, so cut the crap!"
In a stronger, cocoa dipped voice, "Written essays and poems in school and college and such...read books too. Summer vacations meant my cousins would hide away their books lest I spent less time with them."
Alex looks at Tbone, a telepathic exchange, 'Next time, our Blogfest is by invitation only!' and emphatic nods.
"My 8th grade(13yrs) English teacher liked my story, especially about a ranch horse...it reminded her of Black beauty...she loved my first line for another one, the one which went,"Under the star lit sky, with only the full moon for company, here I lie in a corner, a street dog."
Looks around for applause, none...stammers on, "But never aspired to be a writer, a published one at that."
Alex ""Finally!"  Tbone "No grovelling for sympathy!"
"Ok." "Written on and off for two decades now, till I joined Twitter in 2009 after my ... hmm...still a very bad word  here 'D'. Met two cool bloggers (now friends) T.S Hendrik and  Aditya, followed their blogs for a year before taking the plunge."
'"Joined some creative blog groups for poets and flash fiction writers, their encouragement helped as did that of my first few followers...then gave into my ambitious, pestering brother's advice and took up writing full time in 2010.""Ok." "Written on and off for two decades now, till I joined Twitter in 2009 after my ... hmm...still a very bad word  here 'D'. Met two cool bloggers (now friends) T.S Hendrik and  Aditya, followed their blogs for a year before taking the plunge."
'"Joined some creative blog groups for poets and flash fiction writers, their encouragement helped as did that of my first few followers...then gave into my ambitious, pestering brother's advice and took up writing full time in 2010."
"Moving out of Mumbai meant I couldn't even get a part-time accountant's job since I never managed to crack my C.A (C.P.A equivalent) final exams. I lick my wounds with the hard fact that in the 90s only 3% of 15,000 students got that elusive title every year, maybe because of fewer job openings then... sigh...but on the flip side, I have a lot of time to read, write, research, submit and get rejected, photograph, fabric paint, mess around with different software applications and blog now."
Alex softly "Lets get back to writing."
"Did I mention I got a commerce degree just because Arts is not a cool career option for the great Indian Middle Class! To cut the long story short...finally found the courage to get around doing what I love and what I think is one of the few things I am good at. So, if my books get printed or not, sell or not....I am and will be an Artist/Writer!!"

 Alternate version

There was a little girl who was a bit different, impulsive, hot tempered, rebellious dreaming false worlds when she should have been studying some more. The daydreams grew larger, more verbose and sometimes silly. As the space between the grey cells shrunk, she took to writing on pieces of paper... some saved, some frittered away carelessly...she never showed them to anyone lest she be mocked at by the uncaring. Then it happened, the stuff that her fears were made of. Unlike other kindred spirits, the more she read others, the less pieces of her own got written till a day when the dreams knew better and took flight to the nether regions of her mind, a self  imposed exile.

Time flew, walked, crawled, the dreams peeked out now and then and verses took shape that were protected fiercely for years and yet the best ones cast one day into the fire of battered self esteem (especially the ones dedicated to her fiancé-husband who broke her spirit)....and then after years of grey bleakness, the tumultuous life led her back to the road she had long ago abandoned, the only one left she could travel through, to save her sanity. The journey was risky, shaky, encouraged by loved ones who had secretly read her amateur works...she trots along enjoying the passing scenery.


And lo behold,
 The Twin, The  Muse Ran Away....
leaving behind a sci fi that is just about a quarter complete, a fantasy barely written, a poetry collection due for e publishing in March with quite a few missing pages, short stories to be drafted and rewritten from scratch.
She filled a complaint with the "Missing Muses Retrieval" writers club in December but yet to hear from them.
Anyone who sees 'Reka Sang' slouching around in the upper decks of cyber space, do cajole her to come back please...as said she is moody and cantankerous, gets offended easily. Will this be enough praise to melt her heart??

Penned bold thoughts /

Heart never speaks of /

Love this muse //

 3-5-3

 This is how the Muse looked when they last met....maybe the lady should check Facebook, for sure she is whiling away time with those mindless games or the news rooms where she is flirting with the big boys.

 The strain of these online searches and researching in her absence simply translates into nothing written in the last 3 months.


Wrtiten for a blogfest

Why this private blog?

Will be adding as and when I write, some may not make it here. The poems and stories still have to go through another round of edit even a rewrite . Someday will write enough to print...atleast before my 45 th bday??

One Can always Write and Hope, can't One?



This  private blog accessible only to beta readers and critiques will contain material for:

1. A. Poetry and Micro fiction collection    free ebook june 2012
20 poems + 30 pieces of fiction
poems
freeverse    12
form            4
haiku            4

Micro
55 words                             5                                                          
69 words                             5
50 words (dribbles)             5                                                                
100 words (Drabbles)         5                                                        
Hint fiction - 25 words        5                                                      
Tweet fiction or 140 Fiction 5                                                    
(140 characters including punctuation marks and spaces between words.)


1.B.     An urban fantasy short story  free ebook aug 2012  around 3000 words                  
 (500 words on paper so far)

2. Poetry Collection           64 Poems  including
(submit  to publishers by dec 2012 ....if rejected by six of them, self publish as Ebook  through Smashwords.com/Amazon in mar 2013)

 Freeverse                            40
Styled poems                       22
 (Japanese forms)
Tanka                                     1
Haiku                                   10
Picture Poem.                         1      (the poem will resemble the image it is based on).


It contains my stories  (will be edited and added)

3. Flash and Micro fiction collection                                                         50 Pieces - 16000 words
( Ebook by self through Smashwords.com/Amazon in jan 2013)

 Flash Fiction - anything between 300words to 1000 words
Micro Fiction - between 10 and 300 words or less than 500 characters
                                                                         done           left
50 words (Dribbles)       10     250w                   -              10
100 words (Drabbles)     10    1000w           5 ready          05                                  
200 words (Droubbles)   10    2000w           3 ready          07                                    
300 words                      05    1500w           3 ready          02                          
500 words                      05     2500w          3 ready          02                              
713 words                      05     3565w          5 ready           -                                  
1000 words                    05     5000w          2 ready          03
                                     50     15835w          


Some of these poems and flash fiction were posted on my regular blog http://www.achronicleofdreams.blogspot.in/ for feedback from blogging friends and now deleted from there...hence may find certain posts with comments

4. Short stories collection (between 1200 to 2800 words)     12-14   around   28000 words i.e 110 pages. (done by jan 2013 for submission)
 Written   Edited   Rewrite                Wip      outline/idea
 3                1        2                          2             10

5. Photo Book Collection of sky and landscape  40 Snaps 
( at lulu 2013)

Taken by
Me  (Rek)                        30
My Brother (Prak)           10


6.A. A Picture Book           >= 10 pages ( Single copy for my nephew Akshay) April 2013

 6.B. A Children Book             25-30 pages ( single copy for my nephew Sidartha) April 2013


7. A Ebook Toon Collection       30 Toons
(for fun)

By finish means...one drafts and one edit by self...read by at least 3 betas, second draft and edit, formatted as per standard and ready for a critique partner to read.

8. A Romantic Novella or Flash novel - Skip A Beat 30000 words written 26500 words so far
( finish by july3-aug2 2012) YA/ young adult and above ie 17 yrs and above.

9. A Realistic Fiction Novella - (my own story) On Domestic Violence  - Scarred 30000-40000 words
(  finish by sept 2012) Adult that is above 21 years

10. A Science Fiction Novel - Stars Apart    80000 words  YA/ young adult and above
( finish by 2014)

11. A Fantasy/Paranormal Novel - Restless    80000 Words  YA/ young adult and above
(  finish by 2013)

12. A Historical Thriller Novella or Flash  Novel  - The Barrier 35000 - 40000 words  MG/YA/middle grade, young adult and above i.e 14 years and above
( finish by 2015)


Printed
 A 55 word story n a for luv anthology
A poetry piece in  Mag
A poetry piece to be published
 A flash fiction in post card shorts.

Scarred

Chapter 1 - The Refrain


1
"Thond dhoney, Parsa karney, aangool"*...
The musical notes wafted through, every other morning from the bathroom. Like Beethoven's Concerto...the tempo changed over the next ten minutes reaching a crescendo with the litany of accusations and filthy words directed at her, her extended family, his friends and colleagues. 
 Despite her best efforts, she didn't always succeed in blocking out the stream of words. 'Words' which riled her temper make her scream back her own versions, which was one of the reasons he kept at it...rather enjoyed would be a better word, she had realised a while back . His face that grew ugly and dark while uttering them, his eyes that moved deeper into the sockets leaving most of the whites visible were the cues.
Sometimes, she felt nothing, just a numbed existence...as though an out of body experience or seen through someone else's vision. Often felt like a dead soul trapped in a living body that didn't quite feel alive.
At times, she just to sleep and never wake up to see the morning sun. it hadn't always been like this, not during the one month of official courtship and the first two months of marriage...'window dressing' he had told her later on, blasely at that.


*'Brush teeth, take a leak, bathe'


 Chapter 4


1

Shadows crept across the wall. Lights from the opposite buliding streaming in through the thin  curtains. The night lamp, not to be outdone added to the effects…so quiet, she could hear the heart palpitate against her chest walls.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the thin brush, mixed the colours on the palette and carefully painted the petals.

‘Bitchy Prostitute’ the voice echoed, stronger than it had all week. She barely manged to pull away the shaking brush. The leaf was now shaded orange.

‘Damn!  Get a grip.’ It kinda looked nice’,  she noted with concentrated effort…autumn leaves on the blouse would stand out indeed. She glanced at the clock on the wall to her right, 12.45 a.m…half an hour more before she tried to sweet talk  the mistress of dreams.

Lost in the swirling colours that came alive in her hands, she barely heard him till he stepped close to her. Laughed at her efforts,”Well, Picasso, get back to bed.”

“ A few minutes more” the timid voice pleaded.

“You know who is up at this time of the night?”

Emboldened “Not that word, I will really leave this time.”

“Really? Poor Mrs Virgin, pity your  face didn’t find any takers in college. We both know, your parents will send you right back.” walking away.

Ignoring the rolling tears, blurred eyes sought the brush… clutching it tightly, in its strength everything faded.

2000 words in paper to be copied...sigh

Epilogue


She paused at the doorstep...looking back at the room  once more. Everything was as she had left it  two months ago....the curtains, the dining table she begged and begged for months and finally got, her favourite couch rich blue with silver trimmings, a favourite with the only three neighbours who passed his test (well most of the time at least).

          The light blue sofa still stood, a mute majestic witness to the torment sessions, mental and emotional, countless endured to the point of a breakdown, the humiliations, the constant put downs that still sent cold shivers down her spine.

         His high pitched voice with a maniac quality echoed in her brain, cold swept all over her, the heart pounding at an inhuman rate...the well recognised  signs of a panic attack. She took deep breathes the way her doctor has taught her, clutched a chair for support and moved to gather her few precious belongings, a culmination of six wasted years.

          Every piece of cloth, a book here, a C.D there, remainders of the few happy moments she had managed to gather and salvage from the wreck that was her marriage. Her bags packed, she glanced at the house for one last time ....

        The house she had tried in vain to make a home but dimly realised now was never hers to begin with. The house now stood for only loss : loss of innocence, loss of her unborn child, loss of hope, loss of dignity, loss of self worth and the greatest loss, one that would haunt her for years to come, loss of the will to live.

       The lift stopped , her and bags deposited to the ground floor, the safety zone...as she turned to hug and wave at her few friends, the only ones that would miss her...never him, never him..

       She saw at last in the afternoon sun....behind her stood the skyscraper tall, looming and lonely ....before her stood her mother and the cab, her ticket to freedom bought at a bitter price.


         She walked with a spring in her step, a tiny smile, a smile none the less that threatened to break out of the gloom, knowing that though the road ahead was not easy, too many battles still to be fought.... He could never hurt her again.....