Just a Few Grains of Sand

Quick Tales - Journal

2008-09-07T12:21:00.000-07:00

As I look at the boxes surrounding me I feel a tug of nostalgia. I remember all the years gone by in this beautiful house. This was the house I grew up in; the house I have lived in all my life. The house I now have to give up because I’m now someone’s wife. It feels unfair but I know it’s time to move on.

That’s when it catches my eye, the dusty shoe box under the bed that hasn’t been opened in years. I reach for it and sneeze as a billow of dust rushes up to greet me. My secret treasure chest, hidden away, forgotten since my teenage years. Inside it there are a few faded photographs of friends, now far away, and some trinkets which were exchanged with vows to never forget each other, and my old journal. I had forgotten all about it. I hadn’t written a journal in years. I know I shouldn’t waste time going through its yellowing pages but I can’t resist reading about the person I was a long time ago.

September 23rd, 1994

Today is my birthday. I turn 14 today. Ma let me wear my new watch to school. I just love it! After school I went for a movie with my friends and then we all came home for a small party. I’m so happy! I love my mom! And dad too of course :)

I smile and turn the pages, reading on.

December 10th, 1994

I don’t know what to do. This boy in my class asked me to go for a movie but I said no. I’m too scared to say yes. Maybe I will ask Sheetal to come along with someone she likes so we can go as a group. I hope that will be ok. I wonder why he was so insistent on going for a movie. It isn’t even a really good movie but he really wants to see it. Boys can be so weird …

I can’t help but laugh at my naïveté. I remember the double date that followed and how “the boy” was quite upset that things didn’t go as planned. I skip a few more pages and read on.

July 20th, 1995

I cannot cry. I want to but I feel nothing. I came back from school today and Rashmi Masi was here crying her eyes out. Mom and Dad are in the hospital. There was a car accident when they were leaving for work this morning and now Masi says they’re never coming back. How is that possible? I don’t know what is happening.

I close the journal and put it away. I know there is nothing more to read. The years that followed are still too painful for me. Living alone on a trust fund with a court appointed guardian for the last thirteen years made it all too real. I stopped writing because there was nothing to write about. I look around and start packing again.

It’s finally time to move on.

Fractured Souls

2008-06-15T16:51:00.000-07:00

“Shut up! Just shut and listen!”

“What?”

“I said shut up!”

“Ok. Fine. Go on.”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

Silence.

“Ok. I’m sorry. But you aggravate me.”

“What did I do?!”

“I said shut up!”

“Wow! You’re really being nasty. What’s wrong with you?”

“You. You’re all wrong with me.”

“Again – what did I do?!”

“Gah! You don’t get it do you? I really wanted to be super cool today. I wanted to be charming and interesting; a brilliant conversationalist. But you decided to show up and I had to just keep quiet and stay in my shell, while you made a fool of yourself talking about how breads were cooked in India! Ugh!”

“Hey1 I’m sorry. You obviously weren’t finding much to talk about so I thought I’d be a little informative while filling up those gaps in conversation. So sue me!”

“You’re an embarrassment.”

“O yeah?”

“Ok, ok! That’s enough of you two kids quarrelling. First, it wasn’t as bad as you make it out to be. And secondly, it was a good lesson for the future. At least we now know what not to do in a social situation.”

“Yeah! Don’t let her run away with the conversation.”

“Don’t start on me again. You could have spoken up if the cat hadn’t got your tongue just ‘coz he was there! I mean, ok he’s cute. So what? He has a perfect girlfriend who he’s committed to, so get over it already.”

“Hey! I’m not besotted with him ok? Besides he’s my boss. Our boss. So shut up”

“Is that your favorite thing for the day? Shut up?”

“Just shut up!”

“Ok. It’s time for our appointment with the shrink. Who’s going to take center stage today?”

“Not me! I went last time. Maybe she should go, she can talk all about Indian cooking and dazzle Dr. Householder.”

At Dr, Householder’s office –

“So, are the medicines helping?”

“I guess.”

“Err… which one of you am I talking to today?”

“It’s me, Nutty.”

“Have you girls been taking the medicines I gave you regularly? You know multiple personality disorder is serious. You have to decide to let go of your differences and combine forces into a single personality. That’s what we’ve been working towards, right? You do understand that?”

A Life Forgotten...

2008-03-27T01:38:00.000-07:00

It was dark and cold and the air so thick with fear she could smell it on her skin. She felt clammy. She needed to run but she couldn’t move a limb. She was being suffocated. She was in a coffin, buried alive, her screams dying in her throat.

She woke up screaming soundlessly, gasping for breath. It was still early, not quite dawn yet and it took her a moment to realize it had been nothing more than a nightmare. The storm continued to rage outside her window, as if echoing the turmoil within her. It had been raining all night; the sound of thunder had been echoing through her room.

It was that day of the year again. Every year, for the last fifteen years, on this day she would try to wake up from a nightmare similar to the one she had just had, only to find herself scared and always alone. It was the one night she had no control over her inner demons. It was her personal hell which she had to bear ever year, to pay for a crime she hadn’t been able to commit.

Fifteen years ago, it was on this day that she had felt her world coming to an end. And she had lived through that, only to see her life changed forever.

She had been young and full of idealism. She was strong, beautiful, loved by one and all who knew her. But none of it had been enough. She was alone, with a coldness in the depth of her heart that no home and hearth had been able to reach. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake off this sense of failure. This sense of not belonging to anything or anyone ate away into her soul, till she was numb to the joys and pains of the world.

And then she had started hurting herself just to feel anything at all. It was difficult to remember the first time it had happened but soon enough it was an addiction. It started with a small pin prick that stung her. She remembered hiding in her room while everyone else was busy with their lives. She'd use a rusty old blade to cut herself and feel the blood drip to the floor. She would make the cuts high up her leg where no one could see them. Sometimes she’d cut her inner thigh where the wound would continue to hurt long after she left the safety of her room.It was the only way she could feel something real, even if it was excruciating pain. It was the only pain she could feel. It was the only way she knew she was still alive.

And then on that fateful night, fifteen years ago, she had decided the pain wasn’t worth living for anymore. So she’d taken the blade and slashed her wrist. She was familiar with the pain to know it was only a flesh wound and would cause no lasting damage. And she wanted more. She kept slicing at her wrist wondering when the pain would stop. Exhausted she lay down and watched Life ooze out of her.

It had hurt. Just thinking about it still caused a flash of pain that made her wince. She could still see the blood flowing and mixing with her tears on the pillow.

But there had been a knock on the door. Her sister had walked in to see her and she ran back to call for help. For fifteen years she had lay still and watched the world around her as if in a daze. The paramedics had come and taken her to the hospital. The doctors had thought she was slipping away. They had tried everything they could and she had lain there watching them as she heard them pass the verdict that she was in a coma and could not be revived.

For fifteen years she had lain in this hospital room, living life in her head, alone, silent. Her sister had stopped coming to see her long since. Her father had died and she hadn’t been able to shed a tear. Her mother still came to see her when they allowed her. She was the only familiar face she had seen in a long time.

Every year on this day she would feel herself being jerked into the real world, the one that existed beyond these four walls. But then something within her would resist and she would go back into her world where she would live with the nothingness that she had fought so hard against.

But tonight was different. She was cold. She could feel herself shivering under the thin nightgown. She curled up into a ball trying in vain to hold on to some warmth. She tried sleeping. Slowly she felt her breath catch and as she gave one last gasp.

She looked down at the lifeless form curled up on the cold hospital bed and she felt no grief. She had said her farewells to the world of the living fifteen years ago but she had only just moved on.

She finally felt free.

She finally felt peace.

Just a few grains of sand...

2008-01-30T19:40:00.000-08:00

This blog is my first serious attempt at dedicated fictional writing. I have tried writing a couple of short stories on my other blog which, if I may say so myself, were quite well received. That is, unless my fellow bloggers, darlings that they are, were just being too kind. All the same, the damage is done and I am now motivated to try and write some more. I do, however, think it's necessary to delineate my introspections and half sweet, half nutty life's experiences from my inspired creative outbursts :)

So here are just a few grains of literary sand that are my contribution to the coasts full of fictional reading material out there. If you want to read my earlier attempts at short stories you can find those here, here and here.

Although I will try different genres of writing, I do want to warn you most of my stories will have a distinct flavor of (what I believe is called) "creative non-fiction", i.e. most of my stories are inspired from real life incidents which I experience or hear of. And yes, you will find a lot of "chick-lit" here too.

One day, hopefully, I will also start a blog which will have my first novel! But for now, short stories it is, which by the way, may not be all that short at times either. Do not say you were not forewarned :)

Template changes etc to follow, with, of course, lots of stories too. Hopefully.

Yaaay! What fun!