Tell me a Story…

Hello peeps!

Now as my ‘about section’ will tell you, I am crazy for stories. I read them, write them, adore them, inhale them, exhale them… you get the idea! For me life was going this way until kismet decided to do me a favor, which given my history doesn’t happen too often, and I met this awesome woman, Midu Hadi, who shared my passion for stories.

Long story  short (see what I did there =P), we became friends. One thing led to another and now we are here to further our dreams that every story-enthusiast will share with us.

How?

The aim is to tell a story! This is as simple and as complicated as that. However, there are no rules. It can be prose, poem, art work, or anything. As long as it tells a story, it floats our boats. This makes it that easy and that hard. Okay, I should stop doing that. Here is the deal:

We will be sharing a story, every week with our lovely friends here but with a twist. I will give you a link of her story before sharing mine!

Read what Midu has to say

And then perhaps find out what happens…

When a Heart Fails

Once I had a brain,

With various thoughtful trains.

It housed a guy called Cerebrum,

Who was aplenty quarrelsome.

He was a big shot

And had important jobs.

Thanks to him,

The sounds made sense

The colors felt dense.

I talked, and could interpret

Without a lot of fret.

He also had a Maiden

Whom he called Cerebellum,

Who was the Master of pose!

Made my movements flow!

There were some other players too

Who mostly connected these two.

They also had in their control

All my actions I couldn’t patrol.

In short, they all performed!

Then I met your wretched form!

Kaboom! It was the big bang!

All over again but nothing had formed…

The house in my head was now a broken home.

It was an empty dome.

The gray matter

Turned into gooey batter.

And it leaked out as poison

At the slightest provocation!

I thought I’d die of this depression

Instead, I met a myocardial infarction!

P.S: Don’t forget to share what you think about it.

 

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Why So Serious?

“Hi, doctor!” Jaz greeted Dr. Domestica. A poker face stared at him as she lowered her veil.

Duzan Domestica, however, had been too long in this line of business to miss why this green-skinned, strange looking girl was there in his clinic. Despite her emotionless face and heavy makeup, her smile lines were more than visible. Fanning out at the corner of her eyes were several small wrinkles resembling a cat’s whiskers or a crow’s feet. Then there were the horrible concaves bracketing her thick lips, almost conquering her nasolabial region. Duzan focused hard on her left cheek but was not sure what to make of it. He reflected for a while. Then, “Smile,” he sighed and issued the one command that only he could give without risking his life.

Image Source

As if waiting to do so all her life, Jaz gave him the brightest of smiles he had ever received. It indicated that she was in her happy place and probably knew that it was the last time she would be there because her smile was a classic clichéd one. The one that came straight from the heart or could illuminate the darkest of the hours, you know the magical one!

Duzan shook his head in despair. It was there alright — deep enough to house a million of microscopic entities or a very tiny grain — depending on which you are more likely to carry. She had the cursed symbol that alone could have destroyed her forever. She had a dimple!

“Is it that bad?” asked Jaz. Her eyes were moist because there was a lot of smoke in the dingy clinic of the damned doctor. Duzan, however, misinterpreted it to be tears of sadness.

He took a step backward from her and barked, “Hold the waterworks, please. I hate emotions. I will fix this for you but you must never do it again.”

“Do what?” asked Jaz, “The S-word?”

“Smile, laugh, giggle, snicker… nothing!” he told her, “Or else…”

“You are giving me the last stage treatment, huh?”

“I have to,” he said, “orders are orders.”


A few hours later Jaz emerged from “Domestica Cosmetica.” She was the same woman who had entered the loathsome glass building with only one exception — her face was now completely devoid of any line.

With Zac gone, she did not have any reason to smile anymore. Zac would probably be under some kind of genetic experiment at the moment that the West is notorious for, she thought, meanwhile I am stuck in the pathetic East aka the rat hole where women can’t smile.

“Women do not smile like we do,” A man on a large screen which were very common throughout the country was saying, “Their smile is a weapon more lethal than the most dangerous bomb you and I could ever invent.”

“What b*******!” Jaz checked herself just in time. She was about to scoff.

“Therefore, we suggest that all the women should pay a visit to Domestica Cosmetica and be free from the wretched signs once and for all,” the screen man concluded with a smile.

“And become a ticking time bomb the moment they dare to stretch their lips only a centimeter wider from their natural position,” Jaz muttered to herself.

She was very upset now. She missed her childhood, where all the sci-fi villainy belonged to her imagination and her mother played the role of an evil person by imposing certain rules. This real-life nefariousness was taking a toll on her nerves.

“If it got really difficult,” she told herself, “I will just laugh my worries out.”


Originally published on Medium

Read more about the siblings:

Their childhood — The Midday Adventures of Zac and Jaz

What happened to Zac — SPPRIG Testing Laboratory

SPPRIG Testing Laboratory

Image Source

“Natural selection,” the voice said, “is obsolete now.”

Zac was struggling to focus on the words that were resonating all around him. Despite having memorized them by heart, he had to listen to them daily because according to ADLTHood 101, he had yet to internalize the concept.

“After extensive research, it has been concluded that Nature has turned too soft in deciding what to keep and what to discard,” the words continued. “Therefore, We had to intervene.”

Zac had no idea who these We were. Neither any of his acquaintance knew. The only thing they were aware of was that We were important and right. There was no question about that. Zac was too much of a conformist to question who’s, how’s, and what’s of the system. He was not a rebel, at least not until he had met Aby!

“By our method, only the best will be allowed in this world,” the metallic voice summarized. “Misery will be eradicated, once and for all.” Zac had once again missed the point and he knew that We would know. He will have to attend this session again tomorrow. He was not worried about it because he had just spotted Aby and judging by the sheepish look on her face, she will be attending the class too. He waved at her and she smiled.

“May you see the birth of supreme race,” he greeted her.

“And you,” she replied.

“Today?” he asked her in an undertone.

“Too dangerous,” was her reply. Before he could completely wear his disappointed look, she added, “but I want to.”

This made him happy but in an attempt to show it, he ended up with a comical expression on his face that was a mixture of happiness and disappointment. Aby couldn’t help but laugh. Zac was born with a genetic defect that slowed down his gestures. Therefore, he was often caught between two emotions that resulted in a confusing look on his face. Aby thought it was cute. On the other hand, Zac found it even cuter that instead of inheriting her mother’s dominant gene, the love of his life had her father’s recessive ones. She was bald. This made her unique because according to what science he knew, this was a sex-linked gene. Yet, he had never set eyes upon a woman more womanly than Aby!

They both knew they were not supposed to be like that. We had told them often enough about their defects but failed to instill a feeling of regret in them. It was mainly because the whole world was like that. Everyone had their own set of deficiencies. Since they had never seen for real what Wedescribed to be the perfect human being, except as models in labs, on technological devices, and as monumental structures on every street, they thought it was just an impossibility and an exaggeration.

“Meet me behind the great statue,” he told her. “The one at the end of your street.”

She blinked and was gone.


“You are beautiful.” He was drawing intricate patterns on her hairless head with a SpecPo, which was a pointer with fluorescent ink in several shades. He was holding a mirror in his free hand to let her see his art.

This is beautiful,” she almost screamed examining the now-finished mandala of vibrant colors on her head. It was the latest fashion trend and Zac did the best replicas of the designs she pointed out to him, from the international magazines.

“Shhh!” he warned her. She suppressed her giggles and clicked his photo from her DigCam.

“No way,” he almost yelled looking at the photo. “Is this the expression you will draw? It is ugly!”

“Fuck off!” she said. “This is such a singular expression. I have never witnessed you being scared, amused, and turned on, simultaneously.” His eyes twinkled and she busied herself in drawing magic on a paper pad. He produced an electronic cigarette from his pocket. They puffed on, taking turns.

“Zac,” she said after a few minutes. “If we got caught, horrible events will ensue.”

“How about we register for a compatibility test?” he suggested.

“I don’t know, Zac. There had been zero cases of love marriage in the previous centuries of which we have any record,” she was unsure. “Rom/Jul were the last ones to think about the L-word and you know how We had staged a series of evil stratagems leading to programmed deaths.”

“This is why I propose to follow the rules,” he tried to convince her.

In order to ensure that children with only the best genetic makeup were born, We used compatibility testing called SPPRIG. It stood for sex, philosophy, psychology, religion, intellect, and genetics — the characteristics that were evaluated in this test. It was based on the latest scientific research and was supposed to generate the ideal results. Data of thousands of people reached them and they ran a set of tests on it. There conducted interviews, blood testing, psychological checkup, and medical examinations. Only after that, were two people allowed to copulate.

“I am positive that our SPPRIG will be acceptable,” said Zac, hopefully.

“You do realize that so far, none of the marriages arranged by We have succeeded in terms of love,” she said.

“Look, they are not interested in love, I agree. But if our SPPRIG score is convincing, they might let us do it,” he told her. “Our sexes are different for the starters,” he joked. She rolled her eyes at him.

“Philosophy and religion are not an issue either,” he counted on his fingers. “You know our family backgrounds, schooling, and beliefs are similar”

“Hey, you missed the psychology P,” she intervened. “Also, what about intellect and genetics. There is no way to estimate those parameters on our own.”

“I ran a few tests on my tech toys using our data,” he told her. “The results were promising.” Zac hesitated and then added, “I have a friend in the SPPRIG headquarters. He will make sure our tests come out alright.”

For the first time during this conversation, she looked hopeful. “What is his id?” she asked.

“Pac. The one with two pair of hands,” he said. “Let’s do this!”

She nodded.


“Bos”, said Pac, “These two are a perfect match.”

The one called Bos smiled. He took the application form from Pac and stamped it.

“Denied?” asked Pac, shocked.

“My dear Pac,” said Bos mockingly, “do you really believe that SPPRIG is about compatibility?”

“Then?” inquired Pac.

“It is for controlling their willpower”, came the reply as Bos’ characteristic multiple laughter sounds rang out in the walls of the SPPRIG Testing Laboratory.

Originally published on Medium

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.”

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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 =)

Fission or Fusion?

atomic-bomb

Hey you!

Yes you.

You ugly thing.

I know you.

You are the one who knows how to detonate bombs.

Right?

But that is only what you tell other people.

 

I know you better than this, to fall for your lies

Or not ?

 

You are the exact opposite of what you claim to be.

You are the one who meet people, to find their button-the one you claim can switch off their personal nuclear bombs.

For every single one of us is a bomb, dying to explode.

Anyways,

The innocent people, desparate for peace tell all their secrets to you-show you their jewels and even their ashes!

 

You see that red button and smile to yourself.

Let the party begin, you think.

 

Sometimes you just threaten

I am gonna press it

I am gonna press it

You chant incessantly

When the person is all ready to burst

I am bored, you announce.

And leave.

What torture!

 

But I know that you come back.

You always do.

You can never deny the little pleasure to yourself, of starting a nuclear war, given that it is at another person’s expense.

 

So your little, fat, and hideous index finger does its work.

BAM

Your hysterical laughs!

You leave.

 

What about the one facing the aftermath of your action?

 

Death

Destruction

Sorrow

Hoplessness

That is the first phase.

 

Remnants of nuclear war,

The second phase.

Broken things

Crippled heart

Twisted nerves

Genetic mutations

 

And yet they heal

The third phase

Time, the saviour!

 

 

Years pass

Eons,

Or mere centuries.

 

Other people learn their lesson.

They never fall for your hoax

Or show you a different lever to press

Some even try to return your favours

 

But not her

And you know it.

A thousand times you blow her to pieces

And yet she keeps presenting her broken, poorly repaired triggering button

For you to press.

 

Reason?

She knows you have no button

Of your own.

Someone stole yours

Ages ago

And left you only with

An urge to press!

 

Oh you empty thing

How she pities you

You have no amunition

She has plenty

So she offers you hers

It never runs out!

The Man under the Tree

Man-under-tree

I cannot be certain

Of how and what happened.

The other day,

or was it the night?

Perhaps a movie

with the old theme,

Of a Dr. Jekyll

And a Mr. Hyde!

or was it because

of the two pieces

of the cheese laden pizza?

I don’t know the reason

but it happened so

I found myself split in two;

a man who was a farmer,

And I in my home.

We were both the same

But different each.

How we reached,

each other’s thoughts?

I really do not know!

He said he was not happy

as he sat on the grass green

in the village

of his town

I was on my bed

In front of me, a TV screen

in my hand was a cup of tea.

I was happy that he envied me.

then he said he was sad,

I told him a poem to write

or a great picture to paint.

he accepted my offer

and drew the beautiful site,

Scattered around him

Too vivid and yet faint.

I felt a pang of jealousy

for I found out

a skyscraper hiding my moon

and the air wasn’t either

Free of pollution.

we talked and talked

till the night

passed on.

He told me he was hungry.

I asked him what he’d eat

he showed me fresh butter and cream

and soft bread as I could only dream

I looked  down at my platter,

dried beans, nutrient less meat

right out of microwave appeased me.

 

I told him

he was blessed

a man he was, free

standing under a tree.

for all my sources of shade

had long come under the blade.

My only protection

against the heat

were ACs.

he could not understand

and left me as he said

“you are indeed

a thankless weed”

The Failed Experiment!

Shay_mouse-and-man_360

You were the red cherry,

Hanging on a tree.

I was the snow,

Covering the hills.

I wanted to fall

On top of you

To form something pink.

 

A pink house,

Probably,

With a garden,

Not of your thorns,

And definitely not my roses

But

Of OUR lillies.

 

It was simple maths,

Genetics and Stats.

 

The science however

Did not work.

The grand experiment,

All went wrong.

 

And I was left alone,

In the darkness,

That was not my own

 

But neither was it yours.

There is no one to blame.

 

Perhaps the theories

should be checked

On mice,

And not on men.

Tell that to Mrs. Whiskers though,

She lost her hubby,

And seven children

To the noble science

And chemistry.

What a Tragedy!