randomized

“Are you sure you did not come into my shed last night?” I asked my sister Dana again on the third morning it had happened. Somebody moved my lantern in the night, again. Which meant that someone had been using my lantern, again. Which meant that someone entered my shed during the night, again. “Why would I? No!” “Someone moved my lantern again last night.” I said fixing her with a gaze. Her expression changed from an incredulous one to a straight face. “I have no interest in your lantern, or getting into that fowl shed of yours, even during the day, let alone at night.” She added that I ask someone who I should be asking. That she had more important things to do at night than moving lanterns, like sleeping.

This is the third part of the story. Find the first two parts here and here . The first 'here' points to the first part. ;) Note: This part is narrated from a third-person's point of view. Doing this from Joy's POV was my initial resolve, but it wasn't coming along as good as I wanted to, so I decided against it. This is a loooooooooooooooooong post. *** 'Let me help you!' 'No, I 'm good!! I'll ...just...have to...jump a...little...higher...ahhh.' 'You'll get hurt. And what if someone sees you jumping like this?' 'What of it?' 'You're a Princess!' 'Oh, all the... better...Nobody...will say...anything..."oh fishes"...to the...Princess.' 'Here! Take my knife. It'll be easier with it.' She waited out of pride, contemplating whether to take the knife or not, thinking she was definitely capable to do it by herself, but then she took the knife and thi...

This is part two of the story 'Princess and the Closed Room'. Find the first part of it here . *** I came out of the house and started walking absentmindedly on the driveway and later out of the big iron doors, on the cobweb of streets. I wasn't paying much attention to the path and turns on my way, but I knew, in that uncaring absentmindedness, where I was going. It was an impossible thing for me otherwise, due to my not so good sense of direction, but I kept going without any hesitation, as though I was following a map without actually having one with me. As soon as I had come out of that house, it felt like a big weight has been lifted off my chest. I felt less uncertain, less worried and less scared. I was free. I know I had made a lot of promises to people in there, specially to Joy and I know he would hate me later for doing this, but it was something I had to do. I knew this was wrong and I knew this would break the hearts almost all of those inside, ...

This post is part of Theandric Thursday , a fortnightly  whenever-she-feels-like-posting feature hosted by Ashna Banga . The dictionary definition of 'Theandric' is 'Relating to the joint agency of divine and human nature'. Sounds interesting? Write your own Theandric Thursday post and drop a link on her blog. You can write fiction, real events or a mixture of both. You may use the image on the right for the same. Happy Writing :) *** I don't remember how it all started. It felt like jumping straight out of one dream and into another. We were in a quiet suburb street, me and Lily. It was afternoon and no one could be seen around. Dull, bland houses lined the alley on both sides. There was a peculiar grey tone to each one of them.

The story below is a chapter-in-continuation to Ashna's story/chapter which she posted last month. We've come up with this super-cool idea of writing alternate chapters of this story without discussing what we are going to write beforehand anywhere and it's turning out to be real fun.  You can check the previous chapter written by her, on her awesome looking newly revamped blog here :)  *** 'No shit!', I said, mocking surprise at the guy in pink shirt. The guy shifted in his place trying to hide a smirk. The young man had just informed me that I had dropped my phone on the platform. He had informed me after I had screamed and kicked and tried to force open the door of the coach which closed just after it got knocked off my hand by a bull of a de-boarding passenger, onto the platform. After the train started moving and when I resigned to just looking at it lying there, waiting to be picked up by a lucky soul, pinky said, 'You could have pushed...

The incident happened with Mr Pankhawala, the accountant,  many years ago when he was in his early thirties. He was travelling from Patna to Calcutta in a modest carriage of a modest train. Mr Pankhawala, who always chose the side chair/berth on his journeys, being the quiet  adventurer that he was, had acquired one that day too. He had slipped into sleep while he sat, elbow perched on the window-pane, palm supporting his slightly egg-shaped, clean shaven, long eared face that rocked with the hum-drum of the train, looking into the darkness outside, watching the endless stream of dark trees and dark fields and sometimes an occasional hut or canal pass by. Somewhere later that night he had woken up, unconsciously aware that the train had stopped, as one often does during railway trips and looked out of the window. The platform was of a tiny halt named Chholapur . 'Curse you, modest trains!', he had said in his head, still half-asleep. Looking at the stati...

This post was part of the meme ' Theandric Thursday ' , a fortnightly feature hosted by  Ashna Banga . The dictionary definition of 'Theandric' is 'Relating to the joint agency of divine and human nature'. If you're interested in participating, write your own Theandric Thursday post and drop a link on her blog(link above). You can write fiction, real events or a mixture of both. You may use the image on the right for the same. Happy writing. :) *** "But why this sudden love for the library that you have to go today", my mom said. "You know ammi , sometimes, you just have to do what you have to do, because errr ... you-have-to-do-it" I said the last words more as a question than a statement. She stood staring at me, definitely calculating my chances of ever becoming normal(as she would say) one day. "I mean, I just have a feeling, you know, of going there ... from inside." "Why don't you ge...

Note: This is very long  story . I would suggest you to read it when you have enough spare time. *** A scene forms in front of my eyes, slowly, as if I am rubbing them open after a long satisfying sleep. I am sitting at a bus stop somewhere in the southern, quieter part of Delhi. The road crossing through, a narrow two-lane track, looks washed up and extremely clean. The cool air carries a strange enchanting mysticism. The golden rays coming from the newborn sun, filter through the moving clouds in a dancing fashion and make the wet road and steel railing glow up. The bus stop is peculiarly, of a small and high frame. Unlike any I have ever seen. A flowering, old, low bent tree stands on the side of the bus shelter. Fresh yellow & red jasmine like flowers hang from it. Some lie on the shelter foot and road too, shining in the warm sunlight. It smells like a mixture of wet earth, flowers and a sweet fruit. I feel there is a rainbow somewhere behind th...

This post is part of a meme 'Theandric Thursday' by Ashna Banga ( Pages from a Young Diary ). Below is how she describes the meme, Once every week, on Thursday, I'll be posting something that's a cross between Fiction and reality, something that's not really on an average person's mind on any average day (including the supernatural!) That's where ' Theandric' comes into the picture. The dictionary definition  of  the word  says, 'Relating  to the joint agency of the divine and human nature' . © Ashna Banga

©Ashna Banga .....I am standing, shifting my attention between the two people sitting in front of me. The first one's  asking for water, for the third time maybe. I nod my head at  him just as the other one says something about a shop. I answer him referencing the odd time of day, afternoon. I hear a dialog from TV in the background. Something about blood. Then suddenly, something happens and I run to my room, only to be left severely disappointed by the mess I am landed into. After a while, while going I don't know where, I hit my head on the door. Hard. And I just sit down holding my head.  Looks like a bad day.... 

                ' a cross between fiction and reality, related to personal life and its happenings ' In response to this prompt, rather a meme by Ashna Banga , this post gives an account of a horrific event of my life. Trust me, its really horrifying. © Ashna Banga