Eluding?

Silent prayers for
success that eludes.
Journey back and forth
on an ever changing road.

Doing whatever it takes
to make time stop still,

if only for a few moments.
To gather baggage and quilt 

to trudge across the finishing line.
The one, that loves playing  vile tricks,

further down the road, it, forever spins.

Proclaim myself victorious,

 to find obstacles strewn across,
 newer, stronger, unexpected.

 Blasphemous messages to ancestors gone,

 return, unheard,

The mocking Gods roll over in mirth,

pointing at this "puny human" in distress.

Curve Ball

Sometimes life throws you a curve ball before you can throw one back.

Everything arranged to perfection, the invites were out.
The surprise party, a celebration of our fifth anniversary.

Today he dropped a bomb, he is seeing someone and wants a divorce.

The report lay unopened on the dressing table, I was finally pregnant.

Submitted to Love in Creativity Project (flash Fiction)

P.S This post for BlueBell Books and the post for the I'll Tumble 4 Ya Blogfest  on feb 10 are the only exceptions to my break from blogging till around Feb 15 or 21.

An Ancient Story Retold

She lay by the lakeside; in the moonlight casting no perceptible shadow  against the glistening waters.  Strangely restless and content, weaving and unweaving  her matted coils…some stangled and twisted to hideous effect or laid as they were. Dark, tangled strings that reflected the  surrounding gloom.

He had escaped far too often, she had let him live the ignorant dream…his scent deadly yet irresistible…his high notes ripping her apart…

 Letting him believe to be the victor in this ancient game she had perfected into an art. The night was their timeless friend, eternal enemy; bewitching , betraying, bespoken…rendering them puppets to mutual desire and hatred.

A secret dance,  feverish  glance lacking tenderness…wine and viper, stillness and motion,  beast and prey circling  in vanity and pride.

Soft footfalls, shodden grass groaning under the slight strain…picture perfect. They waited, glinting eyes and forked tongue for the sweet song to soothe and succumb to, for a little while.

 Medusa and the nightly visitor, her  lover and foe, evenly matched but tonight one would fall , the other would savour a shallow victory…as he played his magical notes, the coils unraveled…inhabiting every inch of the tiny meadow that was their’s alone to claim.

The Muse Ran Off With The Stories - IWSG

The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day for participating blog owners who may be professional or amateur writers. (All you need is the passion and output, published or not). Started by Alex Cavanaugh the author of the sci-fi space opera CassaStar and upcoming CassaFire, it is a means for writers to talk about their fears big and small. It is also an opportunity to connect to other writers who may have conquered these or are sailing in the same insecure boat as you.

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 bleakiness, 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. And just when the adventure was getting to be fun, lady luck decided to play games again.

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
 "The Girl/woman is taking a blogging break for two to three weeks" beginning tomorrow.

Be careful who has control over your body - Surgery hours Part 15

Silencing the beeper, Stewart stood undecided, his current state of mind not ideal for any form of surgery and he knew it.

The bodies had disappeared… Damn these visions! 

 He took a valium to calm his nerves. He needed to get his act together, retain some semblance of normalcy. Else the repercussions could prove fatal. He could not allow anyone to visit home till he had cleaned up the place. The staff from the agency was due for the maintenance visit in the weekend, which gave him just two days.

Angela…he missed her so much.

The investigation had begun, now that they had found Josh’s body; the attention had swung back to him. The detective, blast his name, had already called him twice as had the reporters. It had taken all his strength to answer the questions with composure, regret and anger in the right places.

He changed into fresh clothes while calling Malcolm, his friend from medical school. Malcolm had seen his share of emergencies, being a visiting surgeon at St.Vincent’s with a thriving practice of his own a few blocks away.

Luck on his side, Malcolm had already been contacted by the hospital staff. He was aware of the strain Stewart was under and promised to watch his back.

Next was Brendan, his loyal assistant whom he acknowledged with a “You will be joining Dr.Malcolm and Dr.Bakshi. I will be there as soon as I can.”

A nervous, agitated voice responded, “It seems like a routine accident case, drunken driving…but…”

The hesitancy prompted Stewart to ask “Did you ID the patient?”

“Nothing on him, detectives are swarming the floor and a couple of government officials have turned up.”

‘Must be a local politician or high ranking official, a potential cause of embarrassment’ mused Stewart as Brendan’s voice came back on line.

“I only got a look at him; they are keeping things pretty hush hush…” “Doc, Gotta go…”

He hurriedly parked his car and took the basement elevator to the second floor. The scene that greeted him was one straight from the movies…what caught his eye however, were the two officials standing apart from the others. There was something familiar about the muscular men.

  Nurse Lee, ever competently helped him sterilise, as he tried to keep him mind alert and focused. As he pushed his body through the side door, his colleagues greeted him with somber looks. As they updated him, it was obvious that with a head injury and a puncture to his left lung, the patient’s chances of survival were rather slim. They worked in silence, in perfect tandem for the next three hours till they were relieved by a newer set of surgeons brought in.

One of the muscular men stopped them outside the sterilising room with a curt “We need him alive.”

“Who is he?” queried Malcolm.

“What we say stays here, is that understand?”

The three nodded…“He is ex CIA agent, Alex Sonneberg.”

Stewart collapsed on the floor…

“Surgery Hours” bn~30 Days 30 Writers 1 Story.

I am BlogNosticated and feature on the exciting new bn~30 Days 30 Writers 1 Story My section is online now and if you click on the badge below you can read where we’re up to.

# 45 RandomMusings For The Day

Not been well for a while, the blood test revealed a chest infection plus severe anaemia....hopefully the infection will turn around in a week or two but the iron deficiency will take longer to rectify..
I should be able to get to regular blogging soon, don't miss me too much. ;D


Tomorrow happens to be India's republic day....makes me wonder....where is a republic headed when it panders to a small group of religious fundamentalists and prevents an eminent Indian origin author from participating in a literary festival (having banned his book Satanic Verses 20 years ago)??

Thrill Or Trick - Epilogue

I apologise to all my centusians and commenters for not responding last week.
 Not been well for a while, taking the blood test for the incessant cold and cough.
I should be able to get to regular blogging soon, don't miss me too much. ;D


For Saturday Centus at Jenny Matlock's blog...any genre, P.G as far as possible, not to exceed 150 words. Based on the literary device of a cliffhanger...this is the epilogue of the story that concludes the last two weeks' posts of cliffhanger and  resolution respectively.. Check the others afterwords there.


Ali and Simi trudged up the slope... the others would have gathered on the top by now.

Ali looked at the plains in grim silence.

 Simi walked quietly beside, the ideal travel and sparring partner to her twin, though she was hard pressed as to why he didn't fly the carpet.

Reading his thoughts, “ This journey is as much for her as Shammi Uncle, isn’t it?”

He looked at her for a moment and responded, “ I promised to protect her and failed.”

“You saved her life…the healer says that her soul is lost in the void, not left her body yet.”

Ali smiled,a first in many months.

There were many sad eyed, happy faces that stared back at them.

“How is Ria?” asked T.C as a small group approached them.

“ The same since you  last visited.”

“Come children, change into your robes, the memorial chants begin shortly.”

Thrill Or Trick - 2

 Part  1 is  the previous post.

Shammi replied “The Green Dew.”

Simi looked at him, a fear and question in her eyes as the others looked to the edge.

Ria or her lack thereof forgotten.

“Gather your clan children here,  protect them all.”  Time to seek his estranged warrior brothers, their very existence at stake.

 Image Courtesy Libertatea

For Saturday Centus at Jenny Matlock's blog...any genre, P.G as far as possible, not to exceed 50 words. Based on the literary device of a cliffhanger...this is the second part of last week's cliffhanger to conclude the story.. Check the others hanging offs there.


*Not keeping well, hence will get back in a day or two, my fellow centusians.

Thrill Or Trick - Part 1

"Some things never change around here." Simi poked around trying to fish out the harried souls.

The souls in question seeking solace from the stern elders, often alone or in groups of two and three by the lake.

'Sharing secrets inside the mansion walls was both embarrassing and dangerous' opined the teenagers.

This bunch was not smarter than the ones in the preceding years but used a different system of disguises. Hard to know if the portly, middle aged man she detected was indeed Shammi Uncle.

'Offending a senior member of the household meant hanging off a cliff like... Ria...
what the hell was that?'

Google Image modified

For Saturday Centus at Jenny Matlock's blog...any genre, P.G as far as possible, not to exceed 100 plus the prompt in bold. Based on the literary device of a cliffhanger...that is, the second part next week will complete the story.. Check the others hanging ons there.

Something New - Something 2012