Day 20 of Writing 101: What the Future holds

None of us know for sure what the future holds. We make guesses to shape the best possible approximations of what we think our future will be. Take me, for example. Last night, I continuously tossed and turned in the bed – as the day of my big move nears, I can feel its effect already. For the uninitiated, I am going to be in a completely different part of the country come next week, starting my first ‘real’ job, away from the warmth and protection of home. Needless to say, I am a nervous wreck at this point. Anyway, last night, while fighting insomnia, I formed last-minute plans for the things that I had been putting off for sometime: visiting the bank, going to the telephone office for porting my cellphone number to a different operator.

This morning I woke up and mother informed me that today is a national holiday. Of course, it is! Our father of the nation, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, popularly known as Gandhiji, was born today (And so was my mother! Happy birthday, Mom!). How could I forget about the national holiday? National holiday means both the offices I mentioned above will remain closed for today. This sent me into a panic mode. The things I mentioned above really need to be done, but tomorrow, Saturday, is a half day and I am so not sure if everything will go as per my plans. What if the bank manager decides not to come tomorrow?

You see? You make plans and then future screws them and has a good laugh at your expense. I could go on to give far more scary examples, but this is the last day of Writing 101, so I should aim to sound hopeful.

I won’t start by saying ‘5, 10, 20 years from now,’ because I live in a perpetual worry that I might not live to see another day (I am grateful for every single day I breathe in Earth’s atmosphere, no matter how polluted it is). My plans are fairly short-term as far as writing goals are concerned.

Writing 101 has taught me a few crucial things:

1. If I force myself to respond to prompts, I churn out things which I didn’t even imagine myself to be capable of doing.
2. Second point is somewhat related to the first point: I am what they say, an ‘organic’ writer. I do not plan, I definitely do not plot. I sit down before the blank MS Word page and let whatever story come to my fingertips. So much so that I have never really written stories off prompts for practice. But now that I have surprised myself with what I could do in response to prompts, I must do it again! Everyday!
3. I can play with word count anytime I want. Even though, with the new job I may hardly find time to write longer pieces, I can surely write some six-word stories or hundred word stories while watching people eat at the office cafeteria! Remember the W101 task about writing in a cafe?
4. Thanks to W101, I experimented with writing serialized stories on the blog for the first time. The story in point, Not Today, was published over three days. Each day as the story unfolded, I received feedback from the readers saying they enjoyed how the story built up that far. That excited me to write the next part. That also made me nervous, because I worried I might disappoint the readers with the next piece – which motivated me to think harder, try harder. For the first time in my life, I tried to make a conscious effort to plan things! Yay to that!

Armed with all these lessons, my aim in the immediate future is to write everyday. Even if it’s not a fully formed story, then maybe a character sketch or a vignette. But write I must, and everyday. This is important to me at this moment because I am unsure of how much the move will cripple me emotionally and how much time I have to devote to writing once work starts.

I have really enjoyed this 20 days of rigorous writing cum blogging. A big hug to all my fellow W101ers and the readers who visited my blog and inspired me to write more with their feedback. I hope you’ll come back from time to time and inspire me in the same way as you have done so far. Have a great weekend, everyone!

Copyright © 2015 Arpita Pramanick

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How about you? How have you planned your future? Does the uncertainty of the future restrict you from making plans? Please join in the conversation and share your thoughts with me! As they say, blogging is all about connecting! So let’s connect.

Day 19 of Writing 101: My Top Five Reads This Week

Here’s a list of the top five reads from my WordPress Reader this week. Enjoy!

1. You Are Enough

In my early months of blogging on WordPress, I scoured the Internet for any SEO-related articles – I was so obsessed about channelizing traffic to my blog. Though I have since learnt that with blogging patience is the key, I wish this article was there just after I had started to blog.

2. Programmer vs. Artist – Small Shame vs. Big Shame

Anand, of Anand’s Parodies & Caricatures will never fail to make you laugh. However, even in jest, he raises a difficult issue in this post: The parental notion that being a Programmer is less shameful than being an Artist. I am sure many who pursue Art for a living (vs. becoming a doctor, engineer or architect) may have faced similar situations at some points in their lives. I know I did, though in milder forms!

3. Crumpets at Breakfast

Can you win an argument with a woman? Find out in this hilarious short story. It left me giggling like a little girl!

4.  Not sexy, but definitely happy

With this beautiful poem, Rosema at A READING WRITER, hits right at the heart of the raging debate: Does happiness depend upon body weight?

5. Is it possible to have more than one soulmate?

Thank you for starting the conversation, Shauna. Today it is not uncommon for us to be in more than one relationship at different points in our lives. What, then, is the definition of a soulmate in the context of the modern lifestyle? Can we name more than one person as our soulmates?

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I totally enjoyed reading each of these posts. What about you? Let me know in the Comments.

Day 18 of Writing 101: The Package

The Package

Arpita Pramanick

It says it is in Bhiwandi, Maharashtra, India. I do not know if Bhiwandi is a city or a town. I wonder, though, what it looks like.

I am zooming in. The satellite picture shows green and brown, but nothing is clear. So much for technology!

A notification beeps in my cellphone. The package has moved. Now, the painful wait begins.

Three days later, criss-crossing the country, changing hands, it rings as the doorbell.

The man is dark. He is wearing dark blue coveralls and a blue-and-red cap.

“Two hundred and seventy nine rupees, ma’am,” he says.

I hand him the money, counted to the exact rupee. I know these people well. They never return the one-rupee change.

The man hands me the package. I caress it like a long lost kin.

“Thank you for shopping with us, ma’am.” The man bares his malformed teeth. Ugh!

“Yeah, okay, okay!” I shut the door on his face. I can’t wait one more second to tear the cover and hold the treasure in my own hands.

No longer I care what they say about my craft. If no one else buys my book, I will!

I know what I should do. I’ll just order another hundred copies!

Copyright © 2015 Arpita Pramanick

Day 17 of Writing 101: A Day in Verse

Usually, I don’t share my poetry on the blog, because I am presently working on the betterment of my fiction-writing. I have a feeling that I am a better poet than a fiction writer (with no trace of smugness, believe me), but I would like to reverse that.

For today’s task, I looked back in Time and found a poem in one of my Facebook Notes. It was written on 30th December 2011, and titled: Rhapsody on the Bygone Days. I am republishing it without any changes to the original text.

Rhapsody on the Bygone Days

Arpita Pramanick

♣

All the pleasant memories, as the year ends,

Take refuge in debris.

Connections that were made

Faltered the test of time and withered away.

Copious tears shed on paltry feelings,

Have dried on forlorn cheeks.

And yet, as the bitter teeth of Winter recedes

And a glorious Sun rises,

I shall, in the maze of its halo, dream again.

I’ll stare as far as my sight lends,

Into the garden of roses in some faraway place,

Where the first glitter of the Sun dries

The nip of shimmering dews.

I shall fold my hands across my breast

And bury the memories that I made

And feel happy for all that I have.

And those that have left me along the way

I will for once forgive them,

As a sigh heaves out of my heart

(For wounds take a long time to heal)

Yet, I shall pass by the dark shadows

And not let your memories ruin my today

Though I know,

Some things are never to be forgotten

And some scars are to be kept alive.

Though I know

I’ll remember you once again and sob

But not today;

And for once lose myself in the laughter of Life.

♣

If I were re-writing this today, I will probably use more commonplace words than paltry, rhapsody, etc. I am not a native English speaker, so I had most possibly learnt those words in order to write the poem, though I am not sure if I remember it correctly. Now, I am more comfortable in my vocabulary and would like to use plain, conversational English to say something universal. I won’t try too hard to find fancy words to give an impression that I know so many words because now, I have found beauty in simplicity.

What about you? How has your writing evolved over time? Do share with me in the Comments.

Copyright © 2015 Arpita Pramanick

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If you do not blog and would still like to share your thoughts with me, please continue the conversation on my Facebook page, Fictionally Yours.

Not Today (Part 3)

← Previously on Scribbles@Arpita (Not Today: Part One & Part Two)

(A Short Story spanning a day)

6.20 PM

The hedge was towering over her. The walls were rigid. She had no clue that what was beyond. She walked, slowly at first, in control. She was sure she would find a way. How difficult can a hedge maze be?

She walked on and on and found passages after passages which led on to more passages. But there was no exit. Her breathing grew faster. Her throat felt dry and she gulped her own saliva every so often. There was no exit. She was locked. Locked in a labyrinth with no one to her aid.

The colour of the day was fading fast. Somewhere, far away, the sun was creeping past the horizon.

There was no one. No one to her aid.

Then the birds started to appear. They were small, white birds. She was sure she had seen them before, but she could not place them anywhere. The little birds flew and flew in circles above her head at first. Their screeches grew louder, so she had to close her ears with her hands. And then, the birds broke the symmetry. They started spreading out like a tangent to the circle, and then flew in straight lines along the tops of the hedges. Instinctively, she followed them.

“Ma’am, your bill.” The voice was loud and hammering into her ears.

Adrija started like she had risen from underwater, breathless. It took awhile to focus on the waiter. Her ice cream had melted.

Quickly, she took out the hundred-rupee note from her purse and gave it to the waiter.

“Keep the change.”

She slid the strap of her handbag across her shoulder and got up of the chair. Before she left, she cast one long glance at the large poster on the opposite wall of the ice cream parlour: A hedge maze with a woman lost inside. The woman looked so tiny in the picture that you would miss her if you were not looking carefully.

9.00 PM

Adrija ate a hasty dinner in her hostel room. The food was no different than other days, but Adrija had brought it into her room, unlike the other days. Usually, she preferred to eat with her hostel-mates, sitting on the table in the dining room, watching television and shouting on top of their voices in order to be heard over the noise. Not today.

After she was done with her dinner, she stood before the mirror and looked at herself. She touched her cheeks and lips with her finger and outlined her brow. She ran her finger lightly over her eyes. She looked just the same as yesterday. Only, she felt she had aged by years.

She wondered why the maze generated such images in her mind, because she had been to that ice cream parlour many times, without ever having such an episode. She still had goosebumps imagining the vividness of the incident. She could still feel herself locked inside the green jail of hedges.

The birds! She remembered now where she had seen them. The guy at the mall with the Peace tattoo! He had exact same birds on his wrist.

Adrija was more confused than ever. What did the boy have to do with anything? Nothing made sense. Then again, did anything make any sense the entire day today? First, no notifications on her social media. Then, her friends’ and juniors’ weird avoidance. She checked her phone again. But the gadget had never been more silent.

10.00 PM

Adrija lay in her bed, toying with her phone. For some time, she played Angry Birds. When she was bored, she fidgeted with Talking Tom. It was good to hear someone speak, even if it was her own words twisted in a strange mechanical, cat accent. Couldn’t they make an app into which you could speak your mind and the app would listen and answer you like a human being, a friend?

The maze was a cage. The phone was a cage. The people around her were cages. Once she was inside, she had no way of getting out. No way not to feel bad about the lack of attention. About the lack of noise around her. About the stronghold of silence.

Yet, for the few hours when she was sitting on the stairs in the mall, watching people, as an observer, not getting involved, not interacting, she had felt a sense of peace.

Peace, written in black ink in a fancy font that you see in ancient books. Peace, with little birds circling around it. Peace, with finding a way out of the maze.

3.00 AM

It is late and Adrija is asleep. She is dreaming but she will remember it no more when she wakes up in the morning. In her dream, she is seated in an open air restaurant. There are scores of tables around her. Each table is surrounded by four wicker chairs. A vase of freshly plucked long-stemmed flowers sits on each table. The flowers are white.

Adrija is sipping hot chocolate from a large mug. The guy with the Peace tattoo is walking on the other side of the cobbled street. Adrija does not see him. As she dreams, Adrija thinks that she has never visited this place. It is true.

But she will visit this place, in some years, of course. Because tomorrow, when she will wake up, she will shed her old skin. In six months, she will throw a few clothes in her back-pack and go for a mountain trek where the electromagnetic signals become feeble and feeble as your scale the altitude. There will be no more notifications on the phone.

The End

Copyright © 2015 Arpita Pramanick

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This is the end of the 3-part story that started as an assignment for the Writing 101 blogging course. The goal was to write a story spanning about a day. I am thankful to everyone who followed the firsst two parts of the story and offered their feedback. I had not published a serialized story on the blog before, so when I found interest in the story rising among the readers, I also felt excited to write the next part. I must do more of these in future! What do you think?

Day 16 of Writing 101: How important is Scribbles@Arpita for me?

Once upon a time I was a stats-freak. I checked my Stats page everyday to see how many views my posts had received. Of special interest to me were the keywords search that let the readers to my blog. As I get more feedback, that obsessive checking of Stats page has decreased considerably but I still do check it from time to time.

It is no secret that I wish to be a published author. When I started this blog in March, it was with no concrete ambition. Every author has a website/blog, so I must also have one. That was the idea. My interest in blogging started after I interviewed author Tammy L. Gray on the blog. It was nice to see how having a blog allowed you to ask people for interviews, because it was a platform.

A few months ago, I published an article about fiction magazines in India. In India, unlike in the west, the publishing industry is not very well-organized, in the sense there is not much information/tips available online for beginning authors. Some time after I published the post, I received an email from a lady who thanked me for sharing that information. I felt so good! The same person communicated with me some weeks later saying that her story had been published in one of the magazines listed in my article and thanked me again for writing the post, because it helped her find the magazine in the first place. Needless to say, I was on cloud nine. That day I realized what a beautiful feeling it is when your work helps others.

More recently, I have published posts that deals with my fears and my guilt, and the feedback I received from my readers instantly made me feel better. They showed me that there was a world beyond my perception and I wasn’t doing as badly as I thought I was. I was a welcome relief. So, in so many ways, my readers are those friendly ears who patiently listen to me and help me alleviate my worries, even though they are often on different continents. Thank you so much, dear readers, for this! I couldn’t explain in words how much this means to me.

To answer the questions how my writing would be affected if I were to make my blog private, I would say my story-writing wouldn’t be affected so much, because my fiction-writing is not entirely limited to the blog. I write because my writing is my voice. I write because I know no other way. I will still write, but there is a different thrill altogether to be heard for what you write. So, were I to make the blog private, definitely some charm would go away from my writing, as I would probably not get to write on things apart from fiction. How else am I supposed to talk about my self-publishing journey? How else how I get to discuss my fears, my inhibitions and hope for answers from my audience? My writing will definitely lose its variety. I hope, for the sake of my sanity, I never have to make the blog private, because it is one place where I feel like I’m home.

What about you? How important is your blog to you? Would you ever make your blog private? How would that affect you writing? Do share with me!

Day 15 of Writing 101: Not Today (Part 2)

←Previously on Scribbles@Arpita: Not Today (Part One)

Not Today (Part 2)

(A Short Story spanning a day)

1:10 PM

It was lunch time. Adrija was sitting in the cafeteria. The two classes after Professor Ghosh’s were as boring as his and she didn’t get any time to speak to Sourav or any of the others about what was going on either. As soon as it was lunch time, Sourav rushed out of the classroom. “I have a meeting at the sports club. Catch you later, Bunny.”

“Don’t you Bunny me,” she wanted to say, but he was already out of earshot.

Just like Sourav, the rest of her classmates quickly crawled out of the classroom before she could confront them. Smita, the fashion queen of the class and a keen observer of what others wore, did not seem to notice that Adrija was wearing a different dress today, which was the oddest thing. Smita was quite known for her tart tongue.

Something was seriously wrong. Adrija could feel it in her bones.

At the cafeteria, Adrija ordered a chicken sandwich and a coke and munched on in a relatively solitary corner of the filled cafeteria. Her confidence was shaken. She dared not approach anyone anymore.

Her mind worked furiously as she chewed. She hadn’t said anything bad about someone and had been recorded saying that, had she? Not that she could remember. Adrija wasn’t the kind of person who spoke behind people’s back. Okay, a little, maybe, but generally she went along with people and they went along with her.

A smile returned to her face. “Do these people think it’s my birthday and want to surprise me later?” But her smile was short-lived. Her birthday was in February and it was only October. Also, all her friends knew when her birthday was. She checked her phone again. Not a single person had liked her good morning status! Not a single comment. No reply in her Whatsapp group. It was as if a she was placed within a microwave shield, the one she learnt about in the electromagnetic theory class. She sent out signals to the world, but they were not received because of the shield. She, Adrja Ray, was being treated like a nobody. She was sure she was going to cry. Something was definitely wrong with the Universe!

Adrija called her mother. She picked up after three rings.

“Hi Adrija! Wassup?”

“Nothing’s up, mum.”

“You never call at this time.”

“Well, I just did,” she shrugged, irritated.

“Okay, okay. Where are you? There’s much noise.”

“College. What are you doing?”

“Now, Adrija, tell me, seriously, what is wrong? You don’t call your mother at lunch and ask her what she’s doing. Not on usual days, you don’t.”

“I don’t?” For the first time Adrija realized that it was nearly two months she had last visited home. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a real conversation with her mother. The tears threatened again, but she was determined not to cry on the phone. “Well, nothing is usual about today!” she sighed.

“No? What’s unusual about today?”

Suddenly, she realized how stupid it would sound if she told her mother that no one was liking her Facebook status or replying to her messages.

“It’s nothing, mum! I gotta go, talk to you later. Love ya!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, Ma. Lunch is over. I got classes! Bye!”

2.00 PM

Adrija was back in her hostel room. She couldn’t deal with any more classes. She needed some alone time to make sense of what was going on in her life.

What if people continued to treat her like she was invisible for the rest of her life? She felt a lump form in her throat. She wasn’t used to oblivion; she wasn’t used to being alone. She felt a strong impulse to throw her phone at the wall. It took every ounce of her will-power to resist herself.

5.00 PM

Adrija was at the salon, getting a facial. A mud pack was on her face and two slices of cucumber covered her eyes. The beautician was working at her nails, giving it a fresh coat of paint. She could feel the cool of the chemical on the nails as the brush lingered on them. It was hypnotic, she was almost falling asleep.

6.00 PM

Adrija was sitting on the stairs outside the shopping complex, admiring her nail-art. Her nails now had little flowery patterns done in thin black lines above the pink base. Beautiful! Simply beautiful! She took a picture of the nails and shared it on Facebook via Instagram. Had she quite forgotten what a failure she was on Facebook lately? Good for her!

Lots of people were scattered on the stairs: some couples, a group of boys and girls no older than her. There were even middle-aged people who seemed to have come directly from office: they were in their formals; some even wore ties, albeit loosely wound around the neck.

To her surprise, Adrija liked sitting there, alone, watching the people. She was glad no one was asking her from where she had got her nails done or why she couldn’t get over pink. Not talking, not being loud wasn’t so bad, at least not half as bad as it was in the cafeteria.

Adrija didn’t hear him until the guy was already in front of her, asking, “Mind if I sit beside you?” He was wearing a white v-neck shirt and faded jeans. There was a small tattoo on the inner side of his wrist. It said Peace and had little birds around the word. She did not know him.

“Yes, though I don’t believe I am saying this, but I do mind. Please excuse me.” Wow. This was a first! Where was all this coming from?

Adrija found herself walking towards the ice cream parlour.

“I’ll have the chocolate,” she said, when the waiter looked at her.

…to be continued

Copyright ©  2015 Arpita Pramanick

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Here’s the result of the poll conducted on Day 6 of Writing 101.

Even though my short stories rank third in the poll, I decided to give it  shot today because of the following reasons:

1. Bettering myself at writing fiction is one of the fundamental reasons that motivated me to take W101
2. After I wrote the first part of Not Today, I wanted to know more on what was going to happen with Adrija and I wanted to know it fast!

So, dear Reader, are you enjoying reading Not Today? If yes, then why? If not, why, as well? Does the narrative keep you interested, or do you feel like clicking away? Please let me know in the comments. I am looking forward to your feedback on this story.

Day 14 of Writing 101: Not Today (Part 1)

Not Today

(A Short Story spanning a day)

7.00 AM

Adrija smiled as she woke up from the dream. She saw herself sipping her favourite cup of hot chocolate in an open-air restaurant she had never been before. The flooring underneath was cobbled. Four wicker chairs surrounded each table with white tablecloth and a vase of freshly plucked long-stemmed flowers.

Today is going to be a great day, thought Adrija as she walked to the wash-basin.

7.15 AM

Ardija flipped open the cover of her smart-phone and checked for notifications of good morning messages on Whatsapp and Facebook. Unlike most popular girls at college, Adrija was admired by both boys and girls because of her easy manners and approachable demeanour. She was slightly plump and dark and had a long, flowing mane. She was forever buzzing with activity and filled with oodles of confidence.

No notifications? Adrija’s face fell.

“Not an issue,” she smiled and typed it into her group of college friends on Whatsapp: Good morning, beautiful people! She added in a few cute-looking smileys and hit Send. She sent a similar one to her group of school friends.

7.30 AM

Adrija collected her bucket and walked to the bathroom. Six girls shared this bathroom and almost everyone left the house at the same time, so the mornings were pretty busy. There was already a queue in front of the bathroom, made by buckets. The blue one in front of the row belong to Sayani, the pink one to Aditi, the bigger, iron one to Rita. Adrija placed hers at the end of the line and returned. She met Sayani at the end of the corridor.

“Hi, Sayani.”

“Hi, you!” Sayani smiled briefly and walked past Adrija.

“What happened to her?” Adrija muttered to herself. Usually, Sayani was a chatterbox and Adrija would take great steps to avoid her if she was in a hurry.

Once in her room, Adrija checked her phone again. There was still no notification on Whatsapp. What happened to everyone?

She quickly opened Facebook and wrote a status: Good morning people, wakey wakey!! and tagged her bunch of college buddies.

Everyday her friends would be online at this time, furiously commenting and liking her status. They’d send her jokes and funny quotes on Whatsapp. Not today.

9.00 AM

Adrija had bathed and was brushing her hair in front of the mirror. She wore a new dress today, a salwar-kameez that she had not worn to college before.

The phone-thing was biting her at the back of her mind. What the hell happened to all the people? Why was nobody replying to her texts and status? Had everyone suddenly gone off the phone and internet? Impossible!

Adrija decided to call her classmate, Sourav. The phone rang for a long time. No one picked up. “Must be getting ready for college! I should get the breakfast, too.”

10.00 AM

With still no notification on her phone, Adrija slowly walked the college corridor. People were rushing past her, busy talking among themselves. No one looked at her. She saw a group of juniors in front of the physics lab, poring over their lab files. Almost all of them knew her from the Music club or Nature club or Science club.

She walked towards them and tapped a bespectacled girl by the name of Leni on the shoulder, “Writing lab reports, are we?”

Leni turned and smiled. “Yes, Adrija Di. Kinda busy. Catch you laters?”

“Yes, yes. Sure thing!” Adrija walked on, curious how none of the others turned to speak to her. Usually, they’d crowd around her and ask her something about the lab report. She had taken the same subject in a previous semester.

10.30 AM

The professor drew a series of sine curves on the blackboard, to explain the effect of Frequency Modulation. Adrija was sitting beside Sourav. She poked him in the arm with her pen and whispered, “Why didn’t you pick up?”

Sourav gave her the ‘don’t disturb me now’ look and scribbled on, matching pace with the professor. Adrija placed her right hand on his copy and eyed him. He glared at her and muttered in a dark voice, between clenched teeth, “What?”

“Why didn’t you pick up the phone? I called. And sent a bunch of text on Whataspp and Facebook, too. I thought you had died.”

“I was busy.” He removed her hand from the copy and attempted to continue his drawing. Adrija quickly placed her hand on the copy again and muttered, “Busy? That’s it?”

The professor turned then. “Adrija, dear, what exactly are you two discussing? Care to share with us?”

“It’s nothing, sir, really!” Adrija gulped. Professor Ghosh was a stern man. He took no crap.

“Nothing, sir. Nothing, I promise.” She frothed in anger and wanted to burn Sourav at the stake, but managed to keep an apologetic smile on her face.

“Are you sure?” Professor Ghosh asked again. His eyes were non-blinking, like a fish.

“Yes, sir! I am sorry.”

“Good,” said the grave professor, “If anyone else has anything to discuss, please feel free to carry on outside the class. Now, moving on the what we were discussing…”

Adrija glared at Sourav as soon as the professor removed his eyes from her. But Sourav wasn’t looking at her. He was busy listening to Professor Ghosh. Adrija had never seen him so sincere.

…to be continued

Copyright © 2015 Arpita Pramanick

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Note to the Reader: What do you think is different for Adrija today? Why are the people around her suddenly behaving strangely? Let me know in the comments below.

Note to the ‘Writer’ cum Reader: How is Not Today shaping up? Are you interested in what is happening in Adrija’s life? What’s the best thing about this story and what’s the weakest? Please share your advice with me!

Day 13 of Writing 101: What does the Freud in you say?

A lush green field beneath. Too green. Like a tube of colour has been emptied all at once.

A free fall. The pull of gravity. A shiver.

***

A bucketful of snakes suddenly upended on the floor. Long, slimy creatures gradually covering every inch of the floor, the bed, even the bed-posts. A throbbing heart. Fearfully shifting feet. A shiver.

***

A dark, dark night. Front wheel of the bicycle slowly rising, so that the cycle is suddenly vertical. The futile attempt at pushing it to the ground. A dark shadow, taller than the highest tree appears. Chills through the spine. A shiver.

***

Car honking.

“Coming. I’m coming. Please wait. Please.”

Random pushing of the books into the bag. Hurried steps down the flight of stairs.

Oh, God! The assignment! 

Hurried, breathless steps up the flight the stairs. Car honking.

“Oh, please wait. Please wait. I am coming.”

Shifting gears. More honking. The rumbling sound of a vehicle moving away.

“Please wait. Please,I have an exam. Please.”

A shiver.

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Spoiler Alert: Can you interpret dreams? I need you! What you read above are fragments of dreams (or should I say nightmares) that I see from time to time. Needless to say, I wake up with shivers. And voiceless screams. (The last nightmare plagued me all through my school years, a reminder of the time when the pool-car that took me to school left without taking me). At once I knew what I needed for today’s assignment, because most of these dreams are recurrent:

Today, tell a story through a series of vignettes (short, episodic scenes or anecdotes) that together read as variations on the same theme. They can each be as short or long as you see fit — they don’t have to be the same length — but they need a common feature to tie them together, whether it’s a repeated phrase, a similar setting, or the appearance of the same person.

So, if you’re indeed a dream-interpreter, don’t forget to get in touch with me!

Thanks!

Copyright © 2015 Arpita Pramanick

Day 12 of Writing 101: 150 – No more, no less.

Motherhood

She sat in the bus, solemn. Her face was damp, coated with a layer of oil and dust. Her throat was dry.

She ran from her defeat. As fast as the bus could take her. The tears swelled in her eyes, chocking her voice at the base of her throat.

Then, the baby peeked from the mother’s lap, on the seat in front of her. He smiled easily, his cheeks dimpling in the process. The black wisps of hair were ruffled. He sucked on his minuscule thumb, saliva glossing his lips.

Oh well, she thought. I’ll just adopt – motherhood will still feel the same.

A smile crept on her lips, for the first time in the day. It felt liberating to her muscles. She raised her hand and waved it in front of the baby. He split in giggles and waved her back.

Yes, I can still be a mother.

W.C: 150

Copyright © 2015 Arpita Pramanick

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P.S: I was away for most of the day yesterday, hence the delay in posting this. Anyway, I am usually long in my rants, but have been trying my at hand at shorter works since W101 started. Hope you enjoyed this one!