Fiction and other Realities

‘Fiction is inspired by reality’ That is what they say. Yet, I have observed that a few events happen a lot more in fiction than they do in real life or vice versa.

Take sweating for example. Imaginary characters sweat way more than you or I ever would. I understand being in a story is testing since you are always in one difficult situation or another but that amount of sweating isn’t normal. Not even for the fictitious world. A lot of sweat and you run the risk of making your story stink.

Then there is this fact that everything occurs ‘suddenly’ in fiction. I know there are some realistic books where the story takes forever to fold. There are books-classics actually where nothing happens-no story at all! However, the popular opinion usually classifies them as boring. The fiction that sells real fast is often active with numerous suddenly this and suddenly that. I sincerely appreciate the characters’ reluctance to drop dead with ‘sudden’ heart attacks. Some of them do die that way though.

Beautiful Women/Ugly Men. Another thing, all or at least a majority of women in literature are beautiful or at least pretty… no wonder they are not real. 😂 Don’t even get me started on the impossibly humongous boobs! I wonder if that is why cancer is so common in the fiction city. On the other hand, men are usually ugly… at least if they are to be faithful. Handsome men in fiction, that is if they exist at all, are rarely faithful except in Jane Austen novels and even then they have at least one major character flaw. That is kind of realistic though, men are full of flaws and never faithful… okay maybe a 0.000001%!

Let’s take a look at the young adults now. All of them fall in love, which is alright considering their age. My problem is why the triangle is their favorite shape? I want a love circle, you know the protagonist loves nobody but themselves. That would be realistic for sure.

Weather. It is either a dark stormy night or a pleasant clear morning. Why are there no rains during the day and whats up with the fiction moon? Why does it come out on two occasions only? Either when a werewolf is on the lose or when the lovebirds want to do some outdoor rom-rom stuff.

Writers. There are always so many of them. This one actually makes sense to me. A writer writing about writing has to be genuine.
There are various other instances I’d like to point out too but that would be genre specific so next time, maybe. *Yawns*

However, before I end this, here is the final one; deaths or their lack of in the fiction. The mortality rate in fiction is too damn high. Although sadly, we are catching up with that trend. Yet, there are so many novels where characters needed to die but the writers decided to save their precious. I wish God would be that indulgent too.

326845353_7d197c386fImage Source

All GIFs from GIPHY

 

 

Advertisements

The Vegetable

“Hahahahahhahahhahahhahahhaahhaha”

His laughter echoed as the sharp ends of his wits ricocheted back from the hollow walls of the building. Wits were all he had at that moment for his form was reduced to an awkwardly arranged construction of weak bones, confined by means of ropes. However, he didn’t know that, for he couldn’t feel a thing. Every inch of his body was throbbing uniformly and had crossed the pain threshold to the point of numbness. His senses were affected. He could not tell if it was a day or a month, since they had captured him. He felt as if he had not looked at his reflection in a long time. However, he knew it could not be more than a few days though because his chin only had a few bristles. Good, he thought, at least my brain is working even if my body is broken.

The dark room had just a single candle in some far corner. Its light was throwing a bleak ray on the protruding spine of his naked, humped back. His face was lying limp between his small trembling knees, while his hands were tightly secured with a rope at the back of the chair on which he was being forced to sit.

“Bloody pathetic”, the big man said, wiping the spit from his mouth that had found its way there as it often did whenever he got too involved in his duty. Mr. Aubergine was a huge man with a narrow face and shoulders that somehow enlarged into a bulging tummy, giving him the look of an eggplant. He had a reputation of being a bully and was hated by those who worked under him. One of them had once bedded the same woman as him. She ended up sharing a few intimate details about Aubergine’s physiology with him and he, in turn, told his comrades. Ever since then, Aubergine was called ‘the eggplant with no eggplant’ behind his back.

‘Aubergine’ was not his real name of course but real names were not needed where he worked. Undercover names sufficed, and their leader had named the men based on their physiques or in some cases, functions. This has resulted in some ridiculous names. Aubergine’s partner, for example, was called Rhubarb being a thin man with a very red face. “What is he?” Rhubarb had exploded in anger when they were named, “A botanist?”

“His world, his rules” was the reply from his friend.

“Bloody Pathetic”, repeated Aubergine, “They always do that to me.” Aubergine found special pleasure in breaking bones of people-criminal or not! What he did not find pleasing at all was when his subjects entered a state, where pain couldn’t reach them and his forceful movements meant nothing but tiring himself uselessly. What enraged him further was the captor’s nerve to mock him by laughing at his helplessness.

“Not a single man had ever done that to me”, boasted Rhubarb, “And you know why? Because I fucking know when to stop.” Rhubarb was a shrewd man. While he loved torturing people just as much as Aubergine, he never lost control when at it. He would hit them hard but ensure their sense of pain was preserved. Then he would hit again when his subject was least expecting him. He knew how to be there. Always.

Aubergine did not reply to his partner’s jibes. Since the man they were paid to torture was far beyond their reach now, they knew it was time for them to leave. Besides, she would be coming any time now and Aubergine hated her. She was the only person in this whole system that wanted to soothe these rascals. Why can’t she just play by the rules?, he thought for the umpteenth time, and will you just look at that crafty stick sniggering and planning on to make a move on her. He was looking at his partner.

“What does that whore even see in you?” he decided to provoke him but that didn’t work.

“Oh I just know how to keep her awake at nights”, he smirked and added gesturing towards the figure tied on the chair, “That heightens his torture in a manner that’d satisfy every muscle in your body.”

“You are a dirty man”, said Aubergine that made Rhubarb laugh. The big man left the room since Lavender’s aroma had arrived.


“This is all very interesting”, said the doctor, “I’d diagnose depression and anxiety.”

“But it hurts me physically”, he was saying.

“Sometimes in severe cases, this could happen”, the psychiatrist elaborated, “However, what I really don’t understand is why would you see depression as some kind of eggplant and anxiety as what did you say it was?”

“Rhubarb”, he reddened.

“And sleep?”

“Fragrant Lavender”

“What are you, man?” asked the doctor mocking him, “A botanist?”

“No, a vegetable”, he mumbled.

“He knows”, the crowd of intern psychiatrists gasped in unison. The subject of their experiment was not brain dead!

Originally Published on Medium

Toothaches > Heartaches

 

https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2742/4117987529_b8664cdc88_b.jpg

Tobacco, tomato, timber, and toothache.

Smoke it, hot, don’t burn, in pain.

Please don’t bother for my sake

Because I am pretty insane.

 

Human, you humane. Heartache!

Didn’t I tell you to refrain?

 

Nothing to offer, I have, I’m afraid,

Yet my blood, you continue to drain.

When the last few drops fade,

You come and feast on my brain.

 

My brain, my brain, my brain!

Is empty but frowns in disdain.

 

Chew your tobacco.

Clone a tomato.

Use the timber, build a canoe.

Sail and drown, deep in blue!

 

Heartaches, you may sustain

But curing toothaches? In vain!

A Perfect Sphere—WringoInk

“Not another triangle”, her mother scowled. The old woman was trying hard to control her anger but was clearly failing at it.

“It tastes perfectly alright”, Zebo protested in a small voice.

“Perfectly?”, her mother’s tone was extremely sarcastic, “Don’t you dare defend this misshapen piece of bread in front of me.” She exhaled and added somewhat sadly, “Girl you are not going to get married easily.”

Zebo knew there was no point in arguing anymore. Her mother’s honey-brown eyes were flashing with anger. She glanced at the grandfather clock that stood in the kitchen. It was 1:30 P.M. Abba would be here any minute, she thought. She grabbed her dupatta, which was hanging on the knob of the kitchen door, and covered herself. She left for her room as Amma stood up from her favorite chair. She would make a new one for Abba, she thought, it would be a perfect sphere.

Zoobia Shahid was among the brightest students in her class. The 14-year-old had only recently learned that world was elliptical. Copernicus and Galileo had faced quite a handful of troubles before the perfectionists finally came to terms with the fact that their beloved earth was not a perfect circle. She didn’t know what kind of sacrifice she would have to make for her parents to appreciate her truly.

“The girl has exceptional talent with words”, her language teachers would tell her parents on every parent-teacher meeting at school. While her Abba looked proud about it, Amman would only frown.

“Let’s go talk to her Home Economics teacher”, she would tell him. Zebo dreaded that very moment since she knew that teacher Zulaikhan would tell her parents about all her mischiefs.

“She shouldn’t be called a girl”, Ms. Zulaikhan would start. Her Abba would look annoyed about it but her Amma would only nod her head in a gesture of understanding and sympathy.

“She is the perfect definition of the word disaster”, her teacher would resume the chiding, “She had cut herself more times while peeling vegetables in the class than politicians tell lies in their entire lifetimes. Recently, she reached new heights after she accidentally set fire to the tablecloth on which she was working. You have no idea what a nightmare it was!”

Her mother would add snippets of her sins too. “She broke a dozen eggs before coming here…”, “You should see what a mess her room is…” and “One day she was playing with her younger brother. This girl had the nerve of using the cover of my new hot pot as a shield while she pretended to safeguard some imaginary kingdom with the rolling pin…”

“Oh, I can totally imagine the horror”, her teacher would gasp in a dramatic way. After a while, they would get bored of talking about Zebo. Then one of them would comment on some fine stitch on the other’s dress and they would enter a fantasy world of their own.

“Women”, Zebo and her father would sigh simultaneously.

Then there was the Rishta parade. Zebo was 100% successful in crushing yet another dream of her mother. The girl had effectively been rejected by a dozen rishrawalas. She deserved bonus points for being rejected for different reasons every single time. Her most popular tactics included revealing to the guests that the amazingly delicious delicacies were not prepared by her as opposed to the claims made by her Amman, sitting improperly, laughing too loudly, and bragging that she could twist her left thumb into an abnormal position. Once she had even told the potential groom’s mother that she might be at the risk of developing breast cancer because of family history. Her Amman had only one breast.

“What’s in the other cup then”, the aunty had asked her jokingly. Zebo had looked at her mother who was glaring at her from the adjacent sofa. “Probably some weapon of mass destruction to destroy my existence”, she had replied.


“There is no way to domesticate this wildflower”, her mother would often say and smile. Apparently, she was wrong because her death did the trick. Her Amman’s other breast had cancerous cells too. However, they were incurable being at the last stage.

Zebo is now a mother of two. You would never find a sphere more perfect in the world than the Rotis she cooks.

Originally published on Medium

Category ‘Young Adult’, Story 2

Also like our Facebook page for other interesting tales by 5 different and extremely talented writers.

The Shark’s Den  

Once upon a time, sharks flew across the sky and what a sight it was!

Hue — the painter produced the finest painting of his life while Click — the photographer captured an inspiring shot. Bard — the poet crafted the most memorable couplet of his life.

Finally, Cloe decided that something must be written on the beauty of this view as well and Cryptr was hired to write an awe-inspiring piece on the magnificent scene.

In short, everyone was so busy in imprisoning the moment that they failed to notice the happenings that unfolded next. Had it not been for a small girl standing on the shore, the vanishing act of the sharks would have remained a secret. However, as it so happened, Zaph — a 6-year-old, inquisitive girl witnessed and reported the incident.

“MYSTERIOUS VANISHING ACT OF FLYING SHARKS, REPORTED BY A KID”

The headlines of the newspaper next day were definitely far from routine.

“Mommy, where did they go”, asked the little girl from her visibly shaken mother.

“Now, now dear”, her mother had replied, “Sharks do not simply vanish into thin air. I wish you had not inherited that ghastly imagination from your father’s side. Sometimes you talk exactly your Aunt Muriel and God forbid she is 26 and unmarried. What a disgrace!”

Hogwash, thought the little girl, the sharks had definitely gone to some place fun and mommy just simply do not want me to go there. I will find the place though.


20 YEARS LATER at THE SHARK’S CLUB

Image Source

Shuh shuh shuh

A woman with a perfect hourglass figure was swimming in a corridor that was full of water. Suddenly she stopped in front of a room as a tingling sensation engulfed her. She inhaled and an acrid metallic smell welcomed her nostrils.

Blood… raw blood. She realized.

I will probably just throw up, she thought but she could not give up now. She had waited and worked for 1.75×10^5 hours to prove to her mother that all of it had been real and she was not going to let it slip through her hands now, even when what she saw was more disturbing than her mother’s demeanour. The scene was shocking enough to rob anyone of their senses — a group of sharks were playing poker in one corner while the others were tangoing. The dancing made them look even scarier than their usual appearances.What really made her hair stand on end was what they were eating — steaks — human steaks! She knew this was the place the mysterious sharks had come to when they had vanished 20 years ago. She could see a portal in the room and every now and then, sharks were zapping in and out of it..

She fumbled with her shapeless bag for her digital camera and found it after a while. It was waterproof. Holding tightly on to it, she took several shots. Some were vivid enough to serve her purpose and satisfied by her efforts, she decided to call it a day and swim away from the lair of danger. Her oxygen/nitrogen mixture was depleting fast and she knew she must hurry up to reach her crew in time in order to avoid detection by the shark bodyguards protecting this mysterious underwater club.

However, before she could so much as take a step, she saw 50 rows of teeth. She was tempted to swim right inside her.

Is that a smile or…? Her thought just trailed off as she heard the deep manly voice.

Source

“Henrie I smell a human”, declared the most handsome Shark sitting on the throne, “Catch the prey, bring me some fresh food and do not forget to play with the prey!”

She was caught and tied soon. You cannot out swim a fish, for god’s sake.

“We are about to eat you, Miss”, said one of the sharks.

Now they are stating the obvious, thought Zaph. Finally, they told her to sign a document, which was written in proper English. This was an educated lot. She read the document. It was an undertaking:

Dear future Homo sapiens,
I, a breathing human of my time, confess to have brought the wrath of nature upon you and myself. All your miseries are a direct manifestation of my careless liberties with the Mother Earth. Now all the creatures are raging a war on you because of my atrocities. I pray you lose.
Yours not-so-truly,
A loathsome human.

Zaph blinked in disbelief.

“I’m not like the others, Sir”, she began but had no idea what name to use for addressing the gigantic shark sitting in front of her. He bared his teeth giving her a clear view of his power. Struck by inspiration she said, “Sir Mighty Fangs, you are the owner of the best and the sharpest cutters in the world. May all the fine edges of the strongest swords turn blunt in the face of your fangs. Please, let me go and I promise I will work for your cause.”

There was a pause.

“She is a human and they are naturally shrewd and cunning creatures”, counselled one of the sharks.

“You should not mind planting a spy among my kind.”

“You must return our photographs”, said one of the Keeper sharks and snatched away Zaph’s life work away from her.

Reluctantly, they relented to let her go.

“Look at how your double chins are showing in this picture, boss”, chuckled the Counsellor shark as he commented on one of the photographs captured by Zaph.

That was the last she had heard of the Shark world.

A FEW YEARS LATER

“Zaph dear, eat some. It is just fish you know.” Aunt Muriel was saying.

She replied with a “No, thanks.” It has been a while since she had been declining such invitations. Every time when she even pretended to dig into any form of meat — red, white, or any other, her knife would break. Apparently, the curse was real.

Dissuading her Aunt, however, was not easy, she realized after being tempted to relish the seafood for the third time.

She finally said, “I’m a vegetarian, Aunt Muriel, so no thank you.”

Zelda — a Venus flytrap was growing nearby but Zaph did not notice its presence even when it caught a spider and emulsified it with its digestive juices. The vicious plant communicated something to the cultivar thriving nearby. The news broke fast.

“So she thinks we’re delicious?” said the old Mr. Elm.

“I would love to show her my delectability”, said the Cactus.

 

 

The Story was originally published on Medium 

When a Cat Calls

This happened a year ago.
We were in the third month of our marriage and life was grand. I loved her to bits and surprisingly, she doted on me too. When I said surprisingly, it is not just my low self-esteem screaming for some kind of validation but an undeniable truth. The thing is my wife is what you would call perfection–she is tall and beautiful without being vain or contemptuous! As if that is not enough, she is extremely intelligent as well. The only time I had doubted her thinking capacities was when she’d agreed to marry me. By the way, I am an average looking guy and fate has not left me with an attractive inheritance from a dead relative to make for what I lack in looks. So our marriage is a mystery to me!
Now as she was a permanent resident of the space that for the purpose of ease, I would like to call ‘way out of my league’ I had often imagined that at some point in life, I will have a competitor. However, it was a shocker when my rival came in the form of an animal–a cat!
It had happened so fast that there was nothing I could do to prevent it. One day, she had gone for shopping and when she returned, the monster was perched in her lap.
“Darling, what is this?”, I had asked my voice turning meek, as I dreaded the answer.
“He is Tiger–our cat”, she had answered in a very matter-of-fact tone.
I observed the beast–gray fur coated numerous layers of fat. Then I made the mistake of looking at his face. Slowly, he opened his green eyes and I could see all my nightmares coming to life.
I must clear a fact here. When I was a little kid, a stray cat had bitten me. Instead of turning into a superhero, I had developed a never-ending fear of all things feline.
“Dear, could we not do this?”, I tried making an attempt at rectifying the damage. Two pairs of glaring eyes answered me and I gave in.
As I had known all along, the new addition to the family didn’t work out for me. Apart from the obvious bone of contention chewed with equal force at either side by both parties, I had to endure sleepless nights as well. The cat had literally come in between me and my wife (he slept on our bed). Everyday, I would wake up on the carpet with scratches on my back, while Tiger enjoyed my spot on the soft bed. All I could get from my wife after relating his atrocities was, “Aw, our Tiger is so intelligent.”
I had to take naps at work to make up for my lack of sleep at home. Life couldn’t get any worse.
Or so I thought, for one day, my wife announced that she was going out, leaving the monster with me. Alone!
“Promise me you will be nice to him”, she said. I just nodded and she left.
Now, here I was with my worst nightmare settled on the carpet. I was lying on the couch pretending to watch television while all my attention was directed towards the monster, who was silently matching my hatred for him.
We kept at it for a while but then the sheer amount of negative energy floating inside the room forced me to move. So, I went to fetch something to eat from the kitchen.
When I returned, Tiger was resting on the couch wearing an ‘I own this place’ expression. I checked the time–it was 4:00 P.M. My wife was to return by 6:00 P.M. I realised that I had 2 hours to achieve eternal happiness by eliminating this hideous villain from our lives. I put my food on the side table, rolled the sleeves of my sweater, took a deep breath, and lunged for him.
What happened after that includes sharp claws and a lot of meows embarrassingly from both parties. After that, I lost consciousness.
“What in the world are you doing on the door mat?”
I heard an angelic voice. I must be dead, I thought, or rather hoped.
Deep down I knew I couldn’t be that lucky. It was my wife with her numerous shopping bags.
“It is the cat”, I began, ready to articulate in the most eloquent terms all the injustices done to me but I checked myself just in time. I knew it would be of no use.
“What has Tiger got to do with your sudden desire to explore the wonders of our door mat?”, she asked, sounding on the verge of losing her temper.
My 6th, as well as several other senses, informed me to refrain from telling her the truth. I used the first intelligent thought that came into my mind.
“I wanted to relate to Tiger on a deeper level”, said I, and when she continued to look suspicious I added, “You know in a ‘walk in his shoes or lay on his spot’ way.”
“Aww, this is so silly yet so thoughtful of you”, she burst into a warm smile.
This was the second time I had had doubts about her intelligence.
We went inside. The cat was sitting there like he owned the place. I accepted my defeat by offering him a foolish smile and he acknowledged it with a swish of his obnoxious tail.
A year has passed since, and I have stopped trying to get rid of him. It took me long enough to realise that a cat sits above us all!

The Confessions of a Celestial Being

This story is written as part of a writing challenge–WRINGO (writing BINGO), which is proposed and played by my office friends. There is a grid with different genres for each grid. Every week, we are assigned a genre that is decided by a dice-roll. I will be  sharing my stories here. 

Genre for this week is Romance. 

I loved her–the Earth, I mean.

One fine moment in space, I told her so!

Now you may think that it was a very hasty decision on my part but that is not the truth. I had observed her for several centuries before deciding that she was indeed the one. It was a very calculated decision and not an emotional one at all for she had life (something that is rather extinct up here). Emotions got involved, but later–when she rejected me.

Somehow, it had made me want her even more. Perhaps, it had always been the reason. For you see, I was very attractive, I still am, actually. Nobody up here in the Universe had ever been able to ‘resist’ my charms.

Earth, on the other hand, had never been bothered by my worldly or perhaps otherworldly beauty. It seemed as if she was made from some other matter, which rendered her immune to my gigantic force of attraction. God knows, she was different. (This is where I sigh and fail to stop thinking about her).

Anyways, so without wasting any time in sending her the positive radiations to be caught and responded by her love RADAR, I decided to sneak right up on her, as per my custom. She refused to even face me. I still remember every single detail of that agonising encounter.

“Let me engulf you with all your splendour, Madame”, I had said in the loftiest tone I could manage amidst all the noise and chaos the particles (foreign, indigenous, and hybrids) of my body were making. They were jiggling up and down, cheering me, ready to welcome another member to the family. I felt confident despite the disorientation in my shape and size.

But, something unexpected happened. Mother Earth responded to my sincerest confession in the most unbelievable manner, that isshe DIDN’T. The most attractive entity in the Universe made her a proposal and she didn’t even pretend to acknowledge. Now let me make something clear to you all here. I am not an ordinary phenomenon. Thousands of maiden galaxies would have sacrificed their carefully crafted sensual symmetries for me but Ms. Earth was an arrogant bitch!

So it all happened and then came the emotions—anger at being rejected, hope that she was playing the ‘hard to get’ game, and finally a doomed feeling of emptiness. The cycle kept going on and I learned that only the first confession is hard to make. Later, you just start enjoying the derogatory behaviour of your beloved. Happened with me too and I started to look for reasons to ‘trigger’ her. I would not let go a single chance to shake her to her core. Yes, I can do that, I have mysterious powers. Interestingly enough, her inhabitants-lovers (what a whore, right?), haters (you can’t possibly have any fun without those), and children (illegitimate *shudders*) trembled at my every touch. What is even funnier is that they thought I was God. Just mess a bit with them, and these earthlings would readily start worshipping you. Now I am not God, not even close but who could possibly deny that degree of attention? God, perhaps!

This game was fascinating enough to keep me going. I almost stopped worshipping her but then one day she just decided to walk up to me. I thought that my opportunity has just arrived and I was all set to ‘grab’ it when she opened that mouth of hers, which turned out to be bigger than her other assets.

“I don’t even like you, hole.” Her hateful tone was forceful enough to destroy the whole Universe.

I, however, engulfed it, thanks to my very accepting nature and said, “Why do I repel you so when I have the most appealing existence in the whole cosmos?” “Also”, I added hastily, “I am well-connected.”

She ignored my last remark. “My people”, she began pointing towards her chest. Two gigantic mountains distracted me and I could no more concentrate on what she was saying. She sensed my perverseness and shuffled to cover her generous heap with some greenery and cleared her throat. “The thing is you are dark and my have enough of that already. With you by my side, the future will be darker.”

tumblr_mkr1a0sTdT1rkfzwto1_1280
Source: Safely Endangered Comics

She allowed that to sink in before continuing, “By the way, I am dating Moon for now and I occasionally flirt with the stars as well but you know who my real target is, right?”

“You will burn”, I tried to say but couldn’t. After all, who would have listened to a BLACK HOLE?

The End

Important: To read other writers’ take on the genre, visit https://medium.com/@logicowringo. You won’t be disappointed!!! Happy Reading =)