I am Destroyed!

When I realized – it was too late!

Tears of blood, predicting a flood;
Worn out soul, screeching in mud.

Splendid mornings turn out to rust;
Where shedding tears is considered must.

Sparkling eyes chasing crystals in the sky;
Thou each gaze pulls me strongly, making a way to die.

Strings of emotion tuned to deviate and devastate;
Crumbled heart seeking the happiness over-delayed.

The beauty of my soul vanishes away;
Thou enchant a spell to stand out in the breaking day.

Abhorring the wounds, all over the heart;
Surrendering to the agony, caused by the poisoned dart.

Thou snatched my life, scorned the blissful smile;
Blessing with the everlasting pain, in thee own style.

World around me perishes as thee left me forlorn;
Sweet smells bitter, flowers turn into painful thorns.

Invisible thee, but apparent to me;
Seeking thou in Eden, finding the glee.

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Passion

Passion – a dominating force.

The sole path escorting through Eternity

Sorrow or bliss credits the global Fraternity

Life’s a cheese cake; yet intricate to enjoy

Beating eggs, whisking flour and freaking sounds annoy

Love cradles my soul; suffering cuddles me

Is there any way out- any pending fee?

I swallow my breath collapsing in the soil

Inviting death after the long-termed toil

My soul enthralls my presence on this transitory abode

Passwords encrypted yet the accomplishments to decode

Passion to survive binds me training for the perilous flight

I crossed the stony beds, thorny deserts and mighty oceans; alas! My bare sight!

Blood implies the ending of my expedition

I lay back saddling my soul with the fire of ambition

First Attempt At HAIKU!

Note: This is my very first attempt to write a Haiku. I have been inspired by various bloggers around the blogosphere to try my pen (or for the matter of fact – keyboard) at it. After reading many beautiful and breathtaking “Haikus” written by various bloggers; I came to the conclusion that I should try to attempt this form of poetry as well. Due to the fact that it is my first time, all corrections are warmly welcomed so I can improve my skills on that part after all “Practice makes perfect”. According to me the choice of flavor can’t be justified unless you try other flavors too so here goes my attempt. Though I am not sure whether I made it to the right path or not but let me give you the task to judge it honestly.

Add your favorite color to your life after TRYING all the colors.

HAIKU # 1

Flow of the river
Mother Nature shivers
Love outclasses the pleasure’s quiver

HAIKU # 2

Love confines the sour flavor
World’s beauty serves the captivating savor
Voyage of  faith to explore and endeavor

HAIKU # 3

Almighty secures me within His arms
The quest for excellence is my sacred alarm
 The combination of holy charm and dilemma to harm

HAIKU # 4

Life’s reality overtakes the fascinated imaginations
Time becomes slow-paced with the over-delayed duration
Pursuing love schools the ecology laying the vital foundations

Escape (Part III)

Note: Firstly, Sorry for the delay in posting the third part of “Escape”. I hope that the readers who were eagerly waiting for it will enjoy it as much as they enjoyed the previous two parts. Those who have no idea about “Escape”, refer to the first and second part of the story before reading the following part. The links to the previous posts are as follows:

Escape – Part I

Escape – Part II

Thank you as always for the over-whelming support. Enjoy the third part!

 

Stanford hospital sounded busy at 8 in the evening. Jon couldn’t believe that he was in the hospital after watching the crowd hustling and bustling around as if it was a BIG SALE festival. Cara was sobbing quietly but the mental shock had left her as soon as she exposed herself to the outburst of nurses, doctors and patients around. Jon held her hand firmly as if she was his 2 year old.

“Jon, what’s this happening?” Cara stuttered. The fear in her voice was evident.

Jon remained silent. He chose to inquire about Mr. Laurengram and stray away from the common hall which was scaring both of them to death. He made his way to the reception which was as busy as he would imagine queuing up for the payment of his school fee on the very last day. After a couple of minutes, he confronted the receptionist.

“Mr. Laurengram. We got a call that he suffered an accident. Can we know the details?” Jon tried to sound composed.

“Oh, Mr. Laurengram! You can find him on the second floor, Room No. 208. Dr. Rossini is dealing with his case”, the receptionist gave away the details within a blink of an eye as if she knew all of it by heart.

Jon thanked the receptionist and made his way to the second floor. Cara chose elevator, hence they both hassled with the buttons of the elevator and after a couple of minutes they were standing right in front of Room # 208. Cara could see her dad lying peacefully on the stretcher with his eyes shut; he looked exactly what he did in the morning but there was one difference – the bandaged forehead. Cara broke out in a cry hugging Jon closely whereas Jon’s eyes were in the search of Dr. Rossini. Jon’s shoulder was patted by a young good-looking Chinese lady. She looked like a student but later Jon came to know that she had been practicing in the hospital since eight years, it was because of her short height and soft features that made her look extraordinarily young than her years. She was barely five feet; her crooked nose, big eyes with flashing eye lashes and the pink cheeks were the kind notes contributing to her young appearance.

“Jon Stanley here”, Jon shook her hand with the little lady wondering how his hand was enormous compared to the lady’s hand.

“Jon, Can I know how you are related to Mr. Laurengram?” the husky nasal voice questioned.

Before Jon could answer the lady back, Cara broke in the conversation very boldly.

“I am Cara Laurengram, his daughter. What happened to him?” Cara resisted back her tears sounding wobbly.

“Well, Cara, he has been a part of the accident that happened on the 121 Commercial Street which is adjacent to the Subway Station. His injury was not serious though but the situation could turn over into a very serious case for him.” Dr. Rossini explained.

“What do you mean? Don’t try to make me resolve mysteries at this moment”, screamed Cara with her tears trickling down the red burning cheeks. Jon patted her back and made her sit closer to him so he could stroke his hand whenever she was too hysterical.

“Cara, I know it might be difficult for you but before proceeding to reveal the reports of Mr. Laurengram, I would want to know about Mrs. Laurengram. Can we reach her to discuss with her primarily about this very accident?” Dr. Rossini politely asked blinking her eyes million times over to deal with the pace of her verbal speech.

“Amazing! You want to reach someone I have never seen in my life. She died after giving birth to me and since then it is ME who live with my dad all alone”, Cara was flushing with frustration due to the delay but Jon worked like a catalyst to calm her repetitively.

“Well, fine Miss. Laurengram. Let me proceed with the case then. We have not received the reports of Mr. Laurengram yet but we doubt that he was driving drunk. To resolve the mystery, we have taken his blood sample and after 12 hours that is tomorrow noon, we can only tell whether your father would be charged with a crime assault or was this a simple mistaken car accident”, Dr. Rossini breathed deeply after explaining plainly.

“What?? He never consumes alcohol before driving. He is a sane being and a very responsible citizen. You guys are out of your mind, are you trying to tell me that my father is a murderer??” Cara’s emotions filled the room with her echoing shaky voice defending her dad even before he was proved guilty.

The accident I always feared;
Sorrow overtakes and happiness disappeared.

“Cara, I respect your emotions but this is very serious. The bus was loaded with around 55 passengers and around 20 are seriously wounded while others had minor injuries. It is supposed that Mr. Laurengram’s car was on the fast track and he didn’t bother to give the indicator to the bus behind his BMW and that is how the bus driver bumped into Mr. Laurengram’s car when he applied breaks swiftly.”

Dr. Rossini took a minute’s pause as to let Cara digest all the rumbling facts.

“The driver applied the breaks as soon as he could to avoid the accident but it was too late. You should thank Almighty that no one lost their life in the accident otherwise it would have been a serious Police case, whereas, driver is doing well now also. Therefore, I would suggest you to wait until the reports lay down the plot of the entire story disclosing who was at fault – your dad or the driver.”, Dr. Rossini stood up and knelt down in front of Cara’s chair to look into Cara’s eyes which were lowered down to face the ground. She was resisting back the tears to avoid the fiery rage to be washed away with the overwhelming emotions. 

“He will be fine, Cara. He needs you to be strong for him”, Dr. Rossini pressed her hand against hers ensuring her the presence of the possible positive vibes.

“When will he regain consciousness”, asked Cara hastily.

“In about six to eight hours – indeed very soon”, replied Dr. Rossini smiling.

It ain’t easy to see you in there;
My heart beats for your survival – the pain I bear.

Cara left the room and Jon followed her after thanking the doctor. Cara stood in the passage way observing her dad peacefully lying on the stretcher bed from outside the room. She did not have the nerve to trace her dad’s hand while the IV line was tangled around his wrist gripping his veins to supply his body with glucose. She was reminded how her dad had the “needle phobia”. He would never chose an injection over tablets or capsules. Cara gave up to the rushing memories within herself. She was taken back to an incident that took place at least five years back, the day they had their Hepatitis C vaccination. He cancelled his appointment and drove back to home as soon as Cara’s vaccination was done. When Cara asked him that why did he cancelled his appointment, he giggled and answered how he was scared of the injection’s breathtaking long needle. They both have had laughed a lot promising each other how it would be a “Jack-Pack Secret” between them. Cara felt the warmth of a hand on her shoulder, she anticipated that it must be the doctor and she decided to ask her to leave her alone for sometime but as she turned around; her stern expressions smoothened reframing the edge of her stumbled face while the fury burning in her passionately faded all at once.

“Jon, look at dad! What has happened to him?” Cara worriedly exclaimed.

“Sweetheart, he will be alright. He has always been a fighter; he will fight this trauma as well – for YOU, baby”, Jon smiled to comfort Cara.

Observing you in pain is a hard job,
My soul is devastated – I continuously sob.

Cara noticed a queue of chairs arranged before her dad’s hospital room. She didn’t dare to open the door of the room and step in to expose herself to an intense unpleasant smell of a typical “hospital-room”; hence she sat on one of the chairs while Jon sat down on the floor in her footsteps wiping away the concurrent cloud of tears forming in her eyes every now and then. She laid herself back within the chair while her head rested against the wall and it was not long enough when she was roaming in her dream valley independently. Jon stood up from the floor and seated himself carefully in the chair beside her and placed her head to rest on his shoulder so as to avoid her suffer a neck cramp. He felt contented to watch his little angel asleep – the only way her precious tears would not be washed away.

“I love you Cara. Forever and always!” Jon whispered in her ear brushing away a loose strand of hair from her face to tuck it behind her ear. The moments swayed away as Jon rested his head against the wall; playing with her slender fingers, he was transported to his dream valley also.

Cranky Old Man

Respect them for you will be here too one day!

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value. Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. The oldman’s sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem. 

This old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the globe awaking masses to accept the reality that“nobody can run away from the dreadful old age however ravishing their young age may be”.

Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . .. . . What do you see?
What are you thinking….? When you’re looking at me?
A cranky old man . . . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. With faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food……. . And makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice. .’I do wish you’d try!’
Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . … lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking?. .Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse .you’re not looking at me.
I’ll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he’ll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . ..my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . to see I don’t mourn.
At Fifty, once more, .. …Babies play ’round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future … . . . . I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . And the love that I’ve known.
I’m now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
It’s jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And I’m loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. …. . ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within. We will all, one day, be there, too! 

Eccentric Voyage Of Life

The feather thus soft, though caresses me hard,
My life is short but the expedition of million yards.

My body’s burly, how about its strength?
Come; get in my shoes to sense the weariness in length.

Rather I supplicate pardon at your doors, my Lord,
My attire’s worn out, my body gashed, stabbing my sins with your sword.

My blood is yellow as that of piddle,
Flowing to signify my sins, concealed as a riddle.

Why am I not apprehending my fault?
Why am I succumbing in this fatal vault?

Halter of a stallion, clasped in my hands,
As fast as I ride, endeavoring to conquer the productive lands.

My dreams are shallow, my heart bears a dark hole,
My soul persuades me to accomplish the past of my role.

My conjectures fail, defeat embraces me in a glance,
However I desire to see the colossal tower for my lost radiance.

Abiding the affliction, my bleeding feet propels the ground back,
The road is smooth but the audacity I lack.

Peace cuddles my soul, love sows new seeds,
Almighty is here to secure me, blessing me with the wisdom of His creed.

My lips are parched, my gaze standstill,
Is this The Glory Of Life I seek everywhere- desserts, forests and hills?

The body slackens its burden, I’m in trance,
Presence of my Almighty, craving every single opportunity for His glance.

My soul enlightens accounting the Heavens,
His commands are my constitution, His contentment my goal.

 

 

 

Tear Drops

Cry until happiness embraces the swollen eyes

The reflection unseen,
Craving a cup of caffeine. 

Red swollen face and the rolling tears,
To tug the outburst within revealing fears. 

The dark starry night thus so long,
Rumbling words tuning into a rhymed song.

The alcohol defy to tempt insanity,
The roller coaster of life betrays humanity.

My body’s numb and strength fatal,
Love rescues my conscience unstable.

Panic strangles the mystery,
Tear drops narrate their history.

The hasty breaths release the firm grip,
The grievous setback attempts to make a flip.

The calmness pleads the hustle bustle to take control,
Happiness forgives sorrow for its vicious role.

Endurance of tear drops uphold a smile,
The enchanting air heals the wounds in a while.

 

 

 

 

Photoshop (My First Love)

A header created for my website – TERRORISM

Photoshop – a toy with which you have to dirty your hands when you are ultimately a teenager whether it is the part of your high school curriculum or not. Instead, let me phrase it like this: Photoshop for ALL AGES! Photoshop, Dream-weaver, Flash, Corel Draw and many more have been playing a great part in nourishing the young minds overflowing with creativity enabling them to sketch their minds out on a virtual white sheet with the help of some enthralling virtual tools. This is an extraordinary idea for people (like me) who would have many creative and innovative ideas at the back of their minds but due to poor drawing skills; they lack in presenting their thoughts efficiently. “PHOTOSHOP FOR ALL AGES” – once who gets addicted to editing through these incredulous software; their vision is sharpened with technicality. However, they are able to point out at minor and major flaws naturally with a bare glance comparatively to those not-so-crazy-editor-beings. Professionalism is always encouraged when it is blended with fun and creativity and thus at the end of the day versatility always have the biggest share.

I have been having fun with many of my personal photographs as well as my friend’s photographs and this is one reason why Photoshop and some of the other software works like a heart beat for me. The “Editing” treasures my boring world; I love to add “MY-SIGNATURE-TOUCH” to all what I own especially the collection of  “GOTCHAS”  – it gives me and my friends a good time to laugh hysterically while comparing the real shot with the edited ones. Mitsy (my very best friend) is fond of my editing. He would make fun of me, pull my leg and do all he can to just prove how I made a fool out of myself while editing our shots but at the end of the day he is the first one to thank me for reframing things amusingly which makes our day so very special every time. Photoshop is steaming software – ALL IN ONE PACKAGE where enjoyment is guaranteed.

 

I was first introduced to the editing world when I was twelve and Photoshop became the part of my secondary school curriculum – at that instant I hated it to death. Of course, as a part of the curriculum which student would embrace it counting on its benefits but after all, when I turned 15 and I made my first website with the help of some online tutorials on youtube; that was the smashing moment – the time I fell in love with Photoshop. With that website, I won two titles – one from my high school and the other from a computer agency to which I presented my website with the help of a power point presentation. The titles were “The Wizard of Computer” and “The Next Bill Gates” respectively. From then onward, Photoshop was all fun. I earned US$ quite a few times on the basis of these editing skills by offering as a freelancer editor. The experience was mind blowing and encouraged me to learn more about other things in the immense Cyber-World so as to survive in the society where unemployment is a huge propaganda.

 

The homepage of my first ever website – BOOK CLUB

The first ever header designed by me for my friend’s website

The header for my first website – BOOK CLUB

Therefore, there is a short message to this post. Evaluate your creativity and pursue it to enhance and improve your skills that can help you in future to fight the disastrous world. No one lags creativity, we all are able to express ourselves in one way or the other. For example: the writers are creative to construct a golden bridge through a simple pen, an artist displays his creativity with a simple paint brush (and colors of course), a lover showcases his creativity to accomplish the destination of love through his efforts and no one in this world is less creative than the other. We all have our own potentials to flourish and prosper accordingly. Believe in yourself and you have a way to pave. 

The Union Carriers

WE ARE ONE” – the voice conquers the WORLD

Wrecked remains of a colossal mass,
Animals slaughtered in the fields grazing grass.
Hearts captive in a fist, ALAS,
A short expedition deliberated, yet to pass.

“WE ARE ONE” was their ultimate voice,
The union of strong and weak with no choice,
Applauding each other, they willingly rejoice,
Darting like arrows from bows, they hustled bustled and created noise.

They screamed out loud, they held hands,
They laughed, they giggled, they would understand,
They fought, they opposed, they gave up their lands,
They rose up high, they took a stand.

Hands clasped pretending to be barriers,
Defeated the swiftness of rivers, the UNION CARRIERS,
Thawed the glaciers, cramped the mountains, emerged as the gallant warriors,
Paced with the winds, illuminated like the glowing chandeliers.

One shell that destroyed their years struggle,
One hand that thrashed their lives forever.
One moment that exhaled poison to juggle,
One name that stabbed their present with the dagger.

Life’s miserable but their steps remained steadfast,
Life’s a curse but a hope of blessing at last,
Life’s a caravan but the Heaven is vast,
Life’s a conjecture, hope to revolutionize the past.

I stood weak envisaging the battlefield in words,
Tears rinsing the blood coated swords.
Almighty exists, thus no worldly Lords,
I embraced the eternal sleep, frail as a cord

Incredible’s Credibility

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all 

“Once it happened that I was….”

Laura was interrupted by her only little angelic daughter Mary while she was communicating with one of her million fans in the same book shop; where masses have awaited her arrival from a long time since her last book broke the records claiming to be a BESTSELLER with 100,000 copies sold across the world in no time. Everyone wanted to catch a single glimpse of this beautiful saintly lady whose age was all a mystery for the exquisite world but the light lines across her cheeks and under her eyes was evident enough for her not-so-far OLD AGE prepared to embrace her anytime from now. Laura, a journalist and a columnist, working for a well known newspaper in Boston loved to share her world with her readers and so her exclusive attempt on scratching her heart out on paper in the form of a book of 472 pages was proved to be a right decision for a boost up in her career.

”Mum, can I please have your sign too?” Laura laughed her heart out and managed to convince her little angel on the matter of fact if it was okay for her to sign Mary’s home lesson diary once they drove back to home. Lately, after spending an hour or two in the same place in between her admirers, she returned back home, earlier than expected. She possessed warmth and affection for her family and home equal to that of her career and profession. She mastered the skills to balance everything in life hand in hand; there was nothing at all where her expertise had failed. Simply, Laura was a versatile woman who knew she had to jog in the morning, work out in the evening, be punctual at work, respond to her fans in due time, perform house chores and give all her remaining valuable time in the proper upbringing of the little Laura growing up under her nose. The sole reason why her home was yet a home, though being run by a celebrity was, her ultimate struggle to place her family before her promising future. This was the single handed answer to the bliss prevailing in her cozy abode.

She overlooked the lush green plains and vigilantly observed the sun ruling each and every bit of the land bathing the world with its dazzling ray beams addressing the mass about the functional importance of hope in life; which can be bitter or sweet simultaneously. The blue sky appeared like the protecting shield for Mother Earth, the squeaking birds seemed like speaking a valid language which could be deciphered by her and the world felt contracted as if nothing exists but only her home in space where she have to live isolated from the world till eternity. Her imaginary world was erupted once at a sudden when memories broke off in between leaving her body numb and mind hysterical, the past shook her from head to toe which reminded her of the accident that ruined her world partly, snatching away her finest possession and blessing in a heartbeat. She knew that she could never see him again and that they will now meet in Heaven only but there was dark side of her that regretted his departure from this universe leaving her forlorn and bare handed. Laura was thrown back in the present from those brutal memories that haunted her every now and then when she found herself trembling. She moved away from the window and seated herself in an arm chair soothing her pulse so as to regain the peace of mind. Laura, though missed her husband, but at the same time was thankful to Almighty for the everlasting sign of her husband in the form of Mary, she could still feel him compelling her to pursue the path of her desires. Laura sensed anxiety, uneasiness, stress and strain as if something worse was to be happening in near future. She neglected the uprising discomfort ruining her peace of mind and opted to meander more independently leafing through the GOLDEN REGISTERS, recalling her good times and bad times with him. Suddenly her heartbeat quickened and her racing heart shot for the moon when she realized why she was missing him so much. It was HIS day, his birthday, the day when his mother held him in her arms for the first time caressing and stroking him, realizing the gem in her hands she was blessed with. The tranquility and harmony in the room entertained her with his invisible presence, she could feel his hands over hers encouraging her to follow the same pathway leading to the achievement of the desired dreams, she dreamt as an adolescent. She could feel his gaze upon her encouraging her solace splendor, she could feel his lips on her ear lobe whispering how much he loved her and will continue to until FOREVER.

”Mum, mum, mum!!! Are you listening to me?”, Marry cried on the top of her voice.

Laura was set back from the fast track drive of delusion when her daughter applied brakes to the rushing memories dissolving her in the solution of PAST. She smiled when she saw Mary in front of her, the little reporter she had in her home who bombarded her with plenty of questions in a bit of every second.

”Mum, what do you think more often?”

Laura shifted in bed, sitting with an upright posture so that Mary could rest her head in her welcoming lap. Laura stroked her hair trying to hide her trembling hands which merely expressed her distressed state and the inexorable war with her delusions even now, with Mary around her.

”Honey, mum have to think about everything; like you think about school, mum have to think about various things at a time”, Laura said gently.

”But mom, I don’t have to stand by my window to think about school”, Mary answered instantaneously. Laura faked a smile and kissed Mary on her forehead.

”When you will reach my age, these fields will attract you more than a couple of Barbie dolls and stuff toys in your room.”

”Mum, when you were in school, were you a lot famous like today?” Mary asked innocently adjusting herself in the bed.

Laura wondered how her 9 year old daughter makes her speechless with every other question more startling than the previous one.

”No baby, instead I never had friends. No one liked to be around me”, Laura blurted out absently.

”Mum, were they jealous that how you will become a celebrity one day?”

”Hons, its mum’s turn now! How can you frame such questions that relate me to…….”

Before Laura could complete her sentence, her cell phone beeped indicating a text message that reminded her how she had to go to a party today that was kept by her colleagues to celebrate her recent success, the award she got as a best columnist from The Times OF Boston.

”Come on baby, it is time for you to go to bed. You can continue your interview tomorrow, on the way to school, madam”, Laura remarked sarcastically.

This time, both of them laughed hard until they gave up in Mary’s bed where Laura hummed a lullaby and Mary was asleep in the matter of few minutes. Laura wore stunning black attire and just after few minutes she was found in her garage opening the door of the driver seat of her Mercedes and pulling the car on the street and driving all the way to The Resort, the venue of the party!

Apparently, she appeared to be in the state of mere ecstasy but behind the curtains was an explicit sorrow that no one can feel or see except of herself. She felt doomed at times when she had to believe that the man, who vowed to keep her happy for lifetime on 10th February 2001 (their wedding day) was no more in this world to keep the promise he made 11 years back, he was no more to uplift her in the difficult times instead he left her in the midst of life to struggle for owning bliss when she knew that happiness would never open its arms to embrace her cause she had abandoned that path a long time before. She wandered wildly in every bit of her head to explore the reason for the flabby smile she needed to paint on her lips for the world; no one realized how exhausted she was to keep faking the same smile when underneath the thorns clutched her firmly that she succumbed every incoming breath because her heart and soul always contradicted with each other, she was deceiving the entire WORLD.

However, lost in her own world, she lost the control over the convertible and her vision blurred. Within a minute, she had no control over herself as well. Her clammy hands went numb, her legs were trembling and tears were streaming down her eyes. She didn’t stop DRIVING. This time, everything vanished; she did not want to regain her senses and Almighty listened to her. It was very late this time when she realized that her convertible had hit the trunk of a huge tree and blood splashed coloring the windshield red. The bonnet was smashed and the car was totally wrecked from the front, she didn’t lose her conscience by that time. Soon enough she heard a BANG and was thrown out of the car. This warrior lady was still breathing in spite of her face being caked with blood and her dress being all drenched in the same fluid. She smiled, this time genuinely. May be this time, she could see the angels along with Adam. May be this time, she knew she will attain eternal happiness. Laura felt her soul descending for the astral journey when she finally voice her thoughts huffing and puffing, smiling elegantly,

”Thank you, Thank you for making things easier for ME.”

”Granny, did she die?”, John broke the silence.

”Well, I told you the whole story, now you have to think about it dear.”, granny responded sleepily.

Granny walks out of the room, leaving John with Laura’s baffling words echoing in his head which leads him to end up in bed dreaming about a mysterious beginning again, that will be made into a story by granny the following night.