Catching Up

Well, I know it's been some time since my last post. There was so much going on that I rarely had time for anything. In the mean time I have written some more.

So here's one of them,

 

It’s Never Late…

 The dimly-lit corridor was damp and empty. The sound of my footsteps echoed creepily. As I walked on, I didn’t know where this dark path took me. I couldn’t see much further ahead. I knew I was supposed to be scared, but I wasn’t. 

And as I traipsed on, a double door came into sight out of nowhere. I wasn’t sure whether the door was already there or it emerged as I came close. Nonetheless, I walked through it, as if some unknown force was guiding me along. The pearly white door looked heavenly in this dark and dirty place. It gave out an ethereal aura.  I crossed the threshold hoping to enter into a warm and welcoming place.

But what I entered into was a hospital ward. Where did this come from? Anyone walking in that dark passage would not think that it led to a fine and comfortable looking hospital room. There was about half-a-dozen beds, all covered in white bedspreads. All of them were occupied by people, patients I guess. The nightstands, the bed lamps, the floor, and the walls, everything was white. It seemed like the entire place was built of bright white light. There was no trace of another living soul except for the patients, all of whom seemed to be fast asleep. 

As I stood there, wondering who in there right mind would build a luxurious hospital ward in a cold, dark place like this which painted all kind of horrible images, something caught my attention.

I couldn’t really make out what it was. A patient? From the elevated chest and long hair I deduced that it was a female. Her face partially covered by her bright red hair which lay in beautiful curls around her face. Her head stood out like flames in this absolute whiteness. Unconsciously, unbeknownst to me, I drew closer to the bed at the far corner of the room, as though drifting in space.  As I got closer and closer, the woman’s’ face seemed very familiar. I had seen her before but I couldn’t remember where. Perplexed I got even closer to the bed and gently lifted that red curls covering her face…and saw her…

My world turned upside down. I stood there rooted to the spot, thunder-struck. I couldn’t move. This was not true. It was bound to be a hallucination. But it wasn’t. As realization hit, I found my voice and let out a yell that was enough to wake the dead.

“Moooooooooooooooom…….”

It was my mother. It was my beloved, my dearest, my wonderful mother. How did this happen? How did she die? No, I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that she was gone. Gone forever!

Then looking around, I realized that all of the other beds around me were occupied by corpses. What was going on? Why would anyone lay dead bodies in a hospital room, instead of a morgue. I couldn’t make head nor tail of it. All was a confused blur. Most of all I couldn’t understand how my mother died. Yesterday she was there, real and solid as she could possibly be. Yet here she was deathly pale and icy cold. She was definitely dead.

My heart bled. “Oh! Mother…my dear, dear mother…” I cried. I cried and cried, I wept as hard as I could. I cried my heart out. I cried until my eyes were dry. I cried until there were no tears left to cry. 

“Tina…Tina dear…wake up. Breakfast is ready.” I heard my mother’s voice calling me from a far, far away place.

“Tina...” she called again.

I opened my eyes. I was staring into the ceiling. I blinked and looked around. I was lying in my bed safe and sound, but soggy with sweat.

Then I realized that it was a dream. Oh! Thank God! Just a stupid dream. It had been very real. Just as I pulled myself together, my bedroom door opened and my mother stood there in the doorway, with a stern look in her face. Relief washed over me.

For me she looked like the angel from heavens. Looking at her face, her beautiful face, her bright red hair pulled up in a tight bun; I realized for the first time how much I loved her. I got out of bed and walked straight to my mother and hugged her tightly. She hugged me back.

“Tina…what is it?” she asked.

“Nothing, I just wanted to tell you that I love you Mom. I love you so much.” I said, hugging her even more tightly. 

Standing there, resting my head on her chest, I felt like it was the safest place in the world. The most loving and beautiful place there could ever be. 

“I love you too Tina. But you’re getting late for school.” Said my mother. 

“Yeah, but it’s never late to say that I love you, Mom" I said smiling.

The Writer's Platform Building Campaign

The Writer's Platform Building Campaigne from Rach Writes will be held for the third time  from Monday, August 22, 2011 to October 31, 2011.

http://rachaelharrie.blogspot.com/

On Not Giving Up…………Failure: A Teacher

Failed at something? Good.

Failed again? Excellent.

You are a lucky devil you know, to be learning from the best teacher in the world.

Because that’s what failure really is, a teacher.

A rung in the ladder, a clever device to test your talent, your courage, your thirst for success.

And if you persevere, and push and hang on long enough,

And grit your teeth and still manage to smile, you’ll bask in the sunshine.

What’s more, you’ll sleep well at night.

When Does Your Muse Come To You?

Do you have trouble having ideas for whatever it is that you’re writing? And do you sit for hours musing for that one scene or contemplating the climax? 

Well. You are not alone. Lot of writers have that problem. I’m not J.K Rowling and I’m no expert on the subject, but figuring out how your story starts, progresses or ends could be very challenging. I for one, have started writing many stories and abandoned half way because I didn’t understand what direction the story takes. And I feel that in a sense, its writer’s block. Though not in a professional way but in a beginner’s way.

So what I’ve learned through experience is that finding out at what time your brain works best is the medicine. I mean when do you feel relaxed and could come up with some interesting material for your work. Well, as for me if I sit down for a muse or go to a beautiful park, it won’t come to me, no matter how long I sit. Rather I get all the ideas I need when I sit down to write. I mean sit down with pen and paper. I don’t know where they come from, but they just gush in. And sometimes I have a hard time putting all the thoughts down on paper. That’s how I write.

Whenever I came up with a new plan for a piece of writing, I was not confident whether I’ll be able to finish it. But then, when I prepare myself, when I sit down to write with pen and paper I am able to finish what I started. Thankfully, now I know what works for me. Now if I start a new work I am confident that I can write it because I know that when I sit down to write, ideas will come to me.  

   

Hence the best thing to do would be to find out what works best for you. Does your muse come to you while having coffee, a stroll in the garden or when you sit in the toilet (believe me some people do get their cogitation while in the toilet).

So find out what works best for you and probe in that. Happy writing journey people!      

Just Another Piece Of Writing

A Friend In Need Is A Friend Indeed

I was standing in the doorway, staring at the Jasmine bush near the gate, thinking of all the things that have happened so far. From the tragic death of my mother to my lonesome miserable life; everything was going the wrong way for me. Why is destiny playing such a cruel role in my life? Why was my mother snatched away from me so cruelly? Why am I living a life engulfed in darkness and with no hope? Why am I feeling as if I am trapped within my own emotions? Why have I not recognized my talents, though deep within me I knew they were there? And why on earth am I feeling that I am inferior to others, though deep within me I knew I am not?

“Jane…Jane” someone called my name. I came out of my reverie and looked for the source of the voice. It was my little sister. She wanted me to help her with her Math homework. “Coming Sarah” I said as I hurried after her into our room. Although I was looking at the algebraic expressions in her book my mind was far away from it. The Jasmine bush in front of our house has been there for years without even having a bud. But it was full of flowers. It felt weird, though in a happy way. Is something good coming my way? Then with a sad feeling I recalled that my mom’s favorite flower had been Jasmine and my dad had planted it there in memory of her. That night I went to bed in good spirits, something which I didn’t have for a long time.

The next day when I went to school I saw Rachel, one of my new friends, helping another girl write her composition. I thought what a wonderful girl Rachel was. I had known her only for two weeks but had started to like her immensely. I admired her for her brilliance in studies, her intelligence, her talents; she was a genius when it came to writing. She was incredibly kind and friendly. All of these traits impressed me so much that more than once I thought that if she had been a male I would have fallen in love with her. She was ever ready to help anyone who was in need of it. I thought how amazing it would be to have her as a friend. But then something happened, something which changed my life forever. As I was reflecting her intrinsic worth, suddenly she walked to me and told me something which touched me so much, that I was craving for her company thereafter.

She said “is there something bothering you? From the moment I met you I had this feeling that you’re not happy, that you’re missing something in life. Well…that feeling was proved right last morning because I overheard you talking to Clair about your mother. I’m sorry, I truly am. But why didn’t you tell me? Don’t get me wrong. Please don’t think that I’m being nosy. I just want you to know that if you want to talk to someone, if you need a friend, I’m here. Whenever you want. Don’t hesitate to ask anything and I’ll help in any way I can. Besides you shouldn’t bottle up your feeling, you should put it out. Only then you’ll be able to find solutions for your problems. Whatever they are. I just wanted to say…that you could count on me, that’s all.

While she told me all this I was gazing into her face speechless. Who is this girl? Why is she being so kind to me like no one has ever been before? But then I felt I could talk to her about anything. It felt easy talking to her. All of a sudden my sense of hopelessness was replaced with hope. I felt elated. I have a found a friend who would be there for me, who would care for me. Then with so much excitement I remembred that for the past two weeks she had been encouraging me in everything I did. She valued my opinions. She made me feel that I am important. She made me feel that I am an independent individual with great talents. She was the source that illuminated my gloomy life. After that little chat with Rachel, every day I was dying to see her, to talk to her. After all they say ‘a friend in need is a friend indeed’.

 

A Novoice

Writing is my passion. It’s what I am good at. Well, not that good, but at least to an acceptable standard. I’ve needed a platform to explore my talents for a long time. So I thought here I could post my writings and see what other people thought about it. At the moment I am in the process of writing a story. I’ve written 8 chapters so far. I am doing it after many failed attempts. Hope it ends well!