Because randomness is the way to go! ;)

What do you do when you’ve been planning on doing something for a really long time, like, longer than a year, and then you finally do it?

What do you do?!?

I’ll tell you what you do guys- you write a blog post about it!

(My first time embedding so I hope this works)

You should maybe watch the first 20 seconds of this video so you know how to read the above paragraph.
And then you should watch the rest of it because Hank! Singing! 
Foetus Hank, at that! (Fairly foetus-y, anyway)

The writer of A Blast of Random now has a Facebook page!


I now present to you my glorious Facebook page:

*sweep of hand*

*curtains rise*

(I’m unveiling it, get it? 
Never mind, I’m trying too many things and it’s just too difficult because it’s all online)


This is the profile picture- which I clicked and I’m really proud of: 


Now you’re probably wondering, What’s she gonna do on there?

Worry not, I brings answers.

Here are a few choice examples of what happens on the page:

There’s me trying to be funny (and punny)


When other people are funny, I post that:


I make you wonder if I might be a psychopath:


I post stuff when I’m bored:


I post my art because well…


I post things like this (because there are so many social media platforms!!)



I fangirl over Hamilton because I’m Hamiltrash (This is a relatively new feature) :


When all else fails, there’s always Tumblr to rely on. 
And you can always rely on me to rely on Tumblr.

Now I had also said (if you go deep down enough on the page, you’ll find a post where I welcome you and promise all these amazing and ambitious things on the page) that I would post about new and interesting projects I do, but that hasn’t happened yet.

Even then, I try and post wonderfully inspiring stuff I find on the internet became everybody else is so creative!


It is good stuff. 
I’d say it was supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

What that means is, you should go “Like” it!

There’s also a small box right here on the blog on the right hand side (where there’s also all that other stuff) which leads to the page, you’ll spot it easily enough.
Clickity-click, you won’t regret it!

P. S. Drop in a message for me on the page if you’re one of those people who read and like my blog (well, the latter is questionable)- I’ll have something special ready for you.
I don’t know what yet, but I’ll think of something! :P


I figured it out!
I finally figured it out!

I have actually been on the verge of figuring this out for a while now.
But the proper, complete explanation came to me today.

The reason I haven’t been blogging as much as I used to, once upon a time.

I have been worrying about it for a long time.

I made a list of all possible reasons, by comparing my past self with my present self as well as the circumstances of the past with the present ones.

Somehow I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

So when I started this blog I was not yet 17. I was so young, I had figured everything out.
Now I am older, I no longer have the luxury of knowing everything.

I had so many opinions back then!
Now I know nothing.

I do not know who I am, I do not know one thing from another.
I do not have an opinion on any topic. I am trying to figure it all out.

I recently happened to read a couple of my old posts, and I thought to myself, Wow! This kid is so confident! She is so opinionated.

She also had this thing going on, where she could very easily state, “This is me. This is the kind of person I am, these are the things I like, these other things I definitely do not like. This is never going to change.”

Now I’m just sitting here like, “Wow”

Now I am in a place in my life where I haven’t formed an opinion on the cheesy fries from Burger King!

(I don’t know man! The first time I was really excited to try them out but I didn’t like them very much, the next time when a friend was having them I had a few and I thought ‘Hey not so bad huh?’
The time after that I didn’t wanna risk not liking them so I said ‘Let’s buy regular ones’, but somebody in the group wanted to taste these so I was like ‘Sure!’
Then I ate like half of them.
I am yet to go to Burger King again, and now I realise that I need to have a stand on this situation and the pressure is too much and I don’t know what to do)

It’s a good thing to have your beliefs shaken every once in a while, but you can’t go your life not being on either side of issues. You cannot have a permanently neutral stand on things.
But currently I’m so confused.

I thought of things to write about everyday when I started the blog, I’d be travelling, I’d see something and then blog about it, with my thoughts on the topic. Lately I don’t have any thoughts whatsoever.

I don’t write anymore because the blog was started to write about my thoughts and opinions and I DON’T HAVE ANY THOUGHTS OR OPINIONS ANYMORE!

So, for one thing, I need to start having thoughts and opinions, if only for the sake of my blog, but this could take a while.
In the meantime I should also think of something else to blog about.

You are totally welcome to comment below and tell me if you’d like me to blog about something. You don’t have to, but if you have any ideas, go on.
I’m also trying to figure things out.

I could maybe help figure them out on the blog. Not interesting for you?
Don’t worry, I’ll only post here if it’s interesting.

Many of the things could also be personal things I might not wanna write down, here on the blog.

Haha let’s see how this goes!

I do still have a few ideas to write about from before that I had written down somewhere and totally forgotten, so maybe I’ll work on those.
(And if all else fails, there’s always fangirling- because that’s here to stay)

Meanwhile, I also have a teeny-tiny announcement to make, and I’ll do it the next time I write, I guess!

So all of this should last us until I figure out the mess.

Wish me luck!😀

(Look who’s finally gotten around to doing this)

Special thanks to Leanna at Short Story Long Blog for nominating me for the Sunshine Blogger Award!

It has been a while since I did the Leibster so I was really excited to do it (And the questions are so cool)😀

The rules for the Sunshine Blogger Award are:

* Answer the 11 questions from the blogger who nominated you.
* Nominate some wonderful bloggers and write 11 questions for them to answer.

My answers to Leanna’s questions:

1. Who is your favourite Youtuber?

I don’t even have to think about this. 
The vlogbrothers. 
No competition whatsoever.




2. You have been captured! The protagonist(s) of the last book you read is coming to your rescue. What are your chances of survival?


The last book I  finished reading was the second book in the How to Train your Dragon series. So that would mean Hiccup and Toothless are coming to rescue me! Consider me rescued.

But also, I’m currently reading a huge-ish book called Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality. 
It is a fanfiction, and it is brilliant.

Harry is smarter than Hermione. He is raised by good stepparents. He reads a lot- by that I mean, A LOT.
If this Harry was coming to rescue me, he’d probably ensure that I never get captured in the first place. That’s how much of a genius he is. 
Like I said, it is huge and I’m still reading it, but all you Harry Potter fans out there (and a lot of you follow this blog too): Read this! Highly recommended!

[Shout out to my new-ish friend who made me aware of the existence of HPMoR and who knew that it was just the kind of thing I’d like to read. 
Also a shout out to her for understanding all my feels about the book.]

3. What is your favourite pun?

Could I change the question to “What is your favourite kind of joke?” And then answer with “the kind with clever puns in it”?


Well okay.
Then I’ll do what I do every time I can’t choose, and list as many as I can find.

Ready? Here I go:











4. What was your favourite cartoon as a kid?

The most my brain can go back is to remember ‘Recess’ which was a cartoon series on Disney and I loved it, and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t marathon it today if given a chance.




I also loved love Phineas and Ferb, but I think I was already at least 12 by the time I started watching it. 
So, while I now think I was a kid back then, my 12 year old would take some major offence at being called a kid.






5. Favourite book-to-movie adaptation?

Ermmm…. Harry Potter?

The movies aren’t without their own faults and they could obviously have done lots of things differently but the entire series is so much more to me now that I can’t not watch the movies whenever they’re on TV. 
I say this all the time actually. 
I should either find another answer, or a different way to put it.

Harry Potter is always a cop-out answer anyway.

6. When you were a kid, what did you tell people when they asked you what you would be when you grew up?

Doctor, I think? For a while it was “Doctor”. 
Although not the Gallifreyan kind- I wish kid-me was that smart for having watched Doctor Who at the age of 5 or whatever.

After the Doctor phase it was scientist. I had my heart set on being a scientist all through childhood, and for a little while as a teenager too. 
I don’t remember when exactly I stopped wanting to be a scientist- but it was around the time I was taught electromagnetism and things like that in physics and I couldn’t comprehend a word of it all… Around this time I had also started taking my reading and writing seriously so then somehow the scientist thing wasn’t too difficult to let go of.

7. What’s your favourite bridge?



8. Do you listen to podcasts? Which ones?

Currently? None.

And a bunch of others, but none of them regularly.

9. What’s your favourite dish to cook?

I don’t really cook, but recently I have started to, a bit.
I like making mashed potatoes or French Fries. Truth is, I love eating them so I don’t mind cooking them as well. And for one thing, I’d never rely on my mother to make mashed potatoes just the way I like them.

[Update: A day after I typed out this answer and saved it as a draft, my mother made mashed potatoes because I was feeling too lazy, and they were the best mashed potatoes I’ve ever had. So guess who’s going to be making the mashed potatoes henceforth?]

10. What was your least favourite class in high school?


11. Favourite thing on your bookshelf?

The books, really.


Most priced possessions would probably be the Harry Potter set, and my signed copy of Gavin Aung Than’s Zen Pencils book (never miss a chance to mention it).

My nominations are:

1. Diary of an Introverted Schmuck
2. Anything and Everything
3. Freedom and Inspiration
4. The power of Dreams
5. The Writing Hufflepuff
6. Something Else
8. Fandom Addict
9. The Vocal Wallflower
10. My Tiny Obsessions
11. The World Past Me

If you’re reading this, and wish to do this challenge and answer my awesome questions, but I haven’t nominated you, this is for you! Consider yourself nominated! Go on, do it!😀

My questions for you lovelies are:

1. Did you listen to the Hamilton soundtrack? 

2. If your answer to that question is Yes (or ‘OMG YES!’ preferably), which are your favourite songs (I know it’s impossible to choose just one), favourite character, favourite voice to listen to? Go on! Fangirl/ fanboy!!

If your answer to that question is No, what exactly are you even doing with your life?! 
While that question started out rhetoric, now I’m curious. What’s happening? What’s new? What are you excited about in the short term? Tell me.

3. Do you have any tattoos? Would you like any (more)? Describe them. 
If no, why not?

4. If you were a Greek God (or Goddess) what would you be the God of?

5. Why do you think cats can’t fly?

6. If you could hop into a time machine right now, where would you go, past or future? When and where, specifically, and why?

7. Which is your favourite book cover? Why? (Of course attach a picture!)

8. What is your comfort food?

9. Tell me a funny and/or cute story from your childhood. (You can and should ask your parents for help in this one!)

10. Which F.R.I.E.N.D.S. character are you?
(Take this Buzzfeed quiz and post a screenshot of your answer!)


I'd say I did good, wouldn't you?

11. *Bonus question space!* What question do you wish I had asked you? Ask yourself it and then answer.

Good Luck to everyone who was nominated for having undertaken the task of answering questions, nominating people, and finding 11 questions for them!

May the 4th be with you!
(I am posting today- couldn’t give up on the opportunity!)

Edit: Do put a pingback to this post and/or comment with your blog link here so I can go check out your answers! I may act all chill here but I’m so excited to read all the answers.😛

Recently when I had voluntarily taken a break from reading (the break was about a month long, and it was only partly voluntary, but that’s not the point), I ended up reading a book anyway.

It was a short book full of short stories, which is why it was easy to read in spite of aforementioned break.
I read it in just a couple of hours, in fact.

It had some very interesting quotes and witty dialogue, so I’m going to post some here for your reading pleasure.

If they convince even a couple of you to go read the book, that’ll be cool because it is truly hilarious.

The book is called Politically Correct Bedtime Stories by James Finn Garner.

It is a collection of the fairy tales (such as Cinderella and The Frog Prince and Snow White) we all were told as kids, but stripped of all racism, stereotypes, sexism, misogyny (no but seriously, how sexist and misogynist were all the stories I loved as a kid anyway?), lookism, ageism etc.

It was refreshing to read these stories where the “bad” guys were not simply bad by virtue of belonging to a particular class of people living in society and they could also maybe do good things sometimes, and to see how the “good” characters maybe weren’t exactly as good as we grew up making them out to be.

The title was enough to convince me to go read the book, and the book did not disappoint.

Here’s a quote (one of my personal favourites) :


From The Little Red Riding Hood

Here are some more:


The Emperor's New Clothes


The Emperor's New Clothes, again.


Rapunzel of course

This was the disclaimer paragraph by the way:


I especially loved how Rumpelstiltskin and Snow White ended.

Here’s the ending to Rumpelstiltskin (as for Snow White- it makes more sense within the context) :


Speaking of Snow White, here’s a comic I found around the web which matches the tone of the book:


Nice, huh?

Reading this book, and finding similar posts to the one above, made me wonder, would children grow up any differently if the stories we told them were more politically correct and helped them become more socially aware?

And yes, we need stories with beautiful ball gowns and glass slippers, but maybe not all of them need the Prince and the Princess to get married for them to be happily-ever-afters.

I wrote this two weeks ago but did not post it for whatever reasons, one of them being that I thought it was kinda silly and onions don’t really sting that much, do they? A few minutes ago, all I did was cut 4 onions in half. That’s all- in half.

Yes. They do.
They do sting that much.

A lot more than what I have described.

So here you go:

Last night my mother left me alone and I was forced to cook food, to ensure my survival.
Invariably, as so many of them do, the dish I cooked required me to chop onions.

Now see, I don’t really have an opinion on the chopping of onions. It is one of those utterly irrelevant things I do in my life.
Which is why I never even have any gum on hand whenever I am faced with the daunting task of cutting an onion so I can devour its little fleshy pieces which will add taste to my food.
(Chewing gum helps you not cry. Mad science, isn’t it?)

I go through life not thinking about chopping onions.

Unless I’m doing it, and then it won’t let me think of anything else, as much as I’d like to.

Years of onion-chopping had prepared me for the onslaught and pain that would follow. 
What I always underestimate though, is how quickly after you let the knife touch the onion, your eyes start stinging. 
One stroke to the onion, and the tears flow like a sword was swung through Ned Stark’s head.

All the tears compelled me to reevaluate every single one of my life choices leading upto this point in my life.

And then, I couldn’t help but wonder about the life choices of the person, the first human being on this earth, who thought eating onions would be a good idea.

No but really, think about this:

Here’s a small round object that I found after digging up the ground.

(That’s not shady enough already)

It came from a plant, so maybe it is edible. From my previous experience I have realised that not all of the things I find from plants tend to be edible.

Let me try to get rid of this annoying and crackling skin that’s covered with dirt, maybe there’s a soft fleshy part inside.

Oh yes indeed there is….

Aah let me break this into smaller pieces to facilitate their entry into my mouth.

(I’m assuming the person wasn’t so stupid- or adventurous- as to literally bite into a thing that nobody he knew had ever eaten, so far in his life)

Oh my God!!! My eyes!! 
They’re burning!!!

Water is flowing through them and I don’t like this one bit!!! 
Oh no oh no oh no!

Let me go splash some water on my eyes and hope that they survive this, which is, and shall forever be, the worst experience of my life!

*drops onion pieces on the ground and runs to fetch water, from like a stream or whatever*

*comes back feeling slightly better but not really, because HAVE YOU EVER CUT AN ONION? THE TRAUMA LASTS FOR MONTHS*

Aah yes. 
My eyes feel considerably better. Can’t say the same about my heart though. 
This experience will haunt me for several full moons.

Just holding these pieces of new, round object have caused me to break down like I never have before.

*slowly sits on the ground near the fallen onion pieces*

You know what I’m gonna do?

*picks one up*

I’m gonna pop it into my mouth! 
Let’s see how that goes!


In other news, I googled 'sexy onion' just to see if anything came up, and I was not disappointed!


The curator switched off the main light and looked back into the room. All seven paintings were lit by their individual soft lights. They were placed all around the room with benches for observation in the middle of the room.

Personally, the curator didn’t like this particular exhibition of paintings. They made him uneasy. He couldn’t point out why but they seemed to be eerily alive- especially in the dark.

The curator left the room in a hurry. It was 11.15 pm. He knew he was late. The wife would be angry. He checked the room once more before locking up for the day. His boss would have his head on a platter if anything were to happen to the paintings.

The room with the paintings was enveloped in complete dark barring the lights of the paintings. The room was quite empty and still. Yet something was breathing. Breathing, waiting, anticipating.

The room was aloof from the city while somehow still being a part of it. The muffled sounds of the Halloween celebrations managed to creep in. What they did not manage was to break the calm of the room. Paintings don’t get startled, do they?

At 11.45 precisely, a hooded figure materialised next to the locked door. It was a young woman. She was of slight built and pale complexion. She was panting furiously. The witch was still an amateur. Her name was Francesca Santorini and she had a job to do.

Francesca took a diary out of a baby blue coloured-satchel that hung by her side. This diary belonged to Vanessa Santorini. Francesca came from a family of witches but her family hadn’t produced a competent witch for many a generations. Francesca was the first witch after Vanessa. So, naturally, the burden fell on her young shoulders.

Frannie, as her mum called her, started preparing for the ceremony. She lit seven candles, each kept in front of a painting. She took out an ornate knife. The knife had a marble handle carved with the symbol for house de Clancy. Not even Frannie’s 103 year old grandmother had any idea how the knife had come into their possession.

Frannie used the knife to make a horizontal cut on the first finger of her right hand. It pricked and burned. She had an exremely low tolerance for pain. She ground her teeth and began drawing the necessary runes as per the instructions in Vanessa’s diary.

She was aware that she might not see tomorrow but it was a question of family honour and duty. The Santorinis were fiercely proud of being true to both.

Frannie finished drawing the runes- some of which were tricky to get right- just as the clock struck twelve. It was time.

She gulped down the putrid potion brewed by her mother. Her mother was not capable of anything but brewing the basic potions. This little vial had almost cost her her life.

Frannie began to chant. The temperature of the room rose. The air was charged with an underlying current of power. The paintings began to glow. Francesca Santorini’s violet eyes now had a feverish shine to them. She moaned in pain and ceased to chant. But now the room was filled with voices of those who had once lived chanting the same powerful words as Francesca.

The pages of the diary began to burn themselves into her mind, as if she had lived them herself.

Vanessa Santorini had been adopted by the Duke at the tender age of twelve. Being a charming girl with a sharpened wit had soon brought her the Duke’s favour. She wanted for naught for her every wish and her every whim was carried out by the Duke.

She was left unaware about the witch-blood that was pumped by her heart until the age of 17, the year when she came of age.

The Duke wished for her to get an education. Vanessa was sent to the University where she encountered two people who changed her lives.

It was there that she was reacquainted with her birth-mother who ensured that the Duke’s wishes were carried out. Vanessa did get an education, just not the one expected by the Duke. She was schooled by her mother in the crafts known to all witches. Vanessa was powerful.

Vanessa also encountered a certain Hugh de Clancy. He was like no one she had ever met. He was kind, smart and just so alive. She was instantly smitten by him. Hugh too developed a fondness for her. He found that Vanessa matched him in wit and humour, and they could converse on an infinite number of topics without ever getting bored.

Alas, it wasn’t destined to be for Hugh was engaged to a cousin of his called Margery who he dutifully married.

Vanessa was heartbroken and seeked her birth-mother’s council. Her birth-mother began preparing Vanessa for the fight to gain her heart’s desire. Preparing was all that Vanessa could do for her heart was still meandering near Hugh.

The following summer Hugh invited her to his lands. She graciously accepted his invitation. When Vanessa landed on Hugh’s doorstep, Margery was not around. Vanessa easily laid her trap and seduced Hugh. She expected him to divorce Margery at the very next instant. She thought his heart too yearned for her. Perchance that would have been so, had Margery not returned with a glowing face, a rounded stomach and some news. Hugh was to be a father.

In his inexplicable joy, Hugh forgot about Vanessa and began showering affection on the mother-to-be. Vanessa was enraged. She was envious but without hope. How could she match a baby?

She didn’t leave but spent all her time staring vacantly at the lush green grounds. Her plan lay forgotten. That is, until she received a letter from her birth-mother. With her mother’s words came Vanessa’s days of sloth to an end.

Hugh might have allowed her into his bed but she wanted more. She began lacing his meals with potions. Love, lust and devotion. Hugh’s attentions shifted again and Vanessa basked in them. Margery was reduced to the abandoned pregnant wife for Hugh had no time for her anymore.

One bright summer afternoon, the future Lord Hugh de Clancy proposed an arrangement to Vanessa Santorini. She was to stay in his mansion, not as his wife but as a mistress.

Vanessa was shocked. She, a Santorini, become someone’s mistress? That was unacceptable. She refused. Her pride was hurt. She realised Hugh would never be hers.

Meanwhile, Margery wasn’t willing to go down without a fight. She used all her resources to unearth Vanessa’s secret. Practising wicca was forbidden by the human law. Margery went to the authorities.

Vanessa was cornered by the Sheriff and the villagers but she escaped using the very powers the mob despised. Hiding in her birth-mother’s cottage, she poured her wrath into seven paintings- each standing for one mortal sin that she had committed. They were all there- lust, envy, sloth, greed, gluttony, pride and wrath.

She performed a spell that split her soul into seven. She escaped the mortal world leaving behind a diary for the squalling red-faced baby she had pushed out of her womb.

Vanessa Santorini would get her revenge.


The room in the art gallery was a mess. The curator was sure that he was going to lose his job.

There erstwhile spotless white floor was now a horror covered with dried blood. The seven priceless paintings by the mysterious artist Vanessa Santorini seemed to have exploded leaving behind shreds of the canvases. Candle stubs and wax blobs were stuck to the floor.

Bloody footprints  were leading towards the exit. Vanessa Santorini, immortalised by her work, had to wreck havoc on the de Clancy family. It was her time for revenge.


About the author:

The author of this story goes by Mia, is a giant nerd and proud of it. She loves potatoes, desserts and almost all other kinds food. Mia blogs at Diary of an introverted schmuck. She is a Whovian, a Potterhead, a Westerosi, a Demigod, a Padawan and a Feminist. Her heart’s strongest desire is to watch Green Day, The Submarines and Fall Out Boy live.

Mia wrote the story inspired by this prompt:


I really liked what she did with the prompt- and to think she almost didn’t submit the story!

Yeah, remember how I said the previous one was probably the last one?
So Mia submitted hers today, which she wasn’t able to complete earlier due to various reasons, but I’m glad she did.
Now I could say that it was always meant to be posted and it was like a surprise, bonus story for all the readers- but you, loyal readers, know that I’m just not that kind of person, and I just tell you whatever is the truth.
That’s just my thing.

Now that I’ve gotten the extremely unnecessary ramble out of the way, let me proceed with the usual stuff.

If you like the story, comment here or on Mia’s blog telling her about it! 
She’d love to know your feedback.

The list of prompts was inspired by this article I happened upon, quite a few have stories written about them so go to the Fiction category on my blog, and you can read all of them and more there!

This is the sixth story of a part of a series of stories I’m posting, which were written by my friends, I talk about it here.

Here’s the previous story, you might like it too.

And here’s the very first one, if you’re interested in reading that! 

I did say that I had a story in progress but clearly that’s not happening and January is over as well!
But if and when I do finish it, I’ll post it here, and I’ll link back to a few of these stories so you know exactly what it was supposed to be a part of… Believe me, you’ll need reminding!

Have a happy February and I hope that the extra day brings you extra joy!

(Once upon a time, I liked leap years… I’m growing more and more cynical every year- or at least, every four years!)

(You know what? I’m actually wondering if you guys even read all the stuff I write after the story is over… I mean, the story is definitely the most interesting part, so why would you?
But if you do, then I’d really like to know about it…. Hmm… comment below saying “Feta and Avocado” and I’ll know you read it- it could be like a secret code word, and then, those who don’t read it will wonder why people are talking about salad-y things after reading such a wonderful fictional story….
Even better! Instead of commenting only on this one, randomly pick another story posted this month- you could pick your favourite- and comment on that!
Hahaha… This’ll be so much fun.
Unless none of you comment: then it’ll simply justify my cynicism.
Ha! It’s a win-win!)


It has been six months since I was trapped in this desolate room. As usual, the sun rises, sunlight filters through the trees and revives the grass. Raindrops rejuvenate the soil. Birds chirp. Leaves sway and the breeze scents the earth. Flowers bloom. Dew drops establish their kingdom across grasses. Butterflies whisper from one flower to another. Sunlight sparkles, rain splatters and the moonbeam illuminates just enough. But I cannot see any of these, because my fate decreed a life in a closet for me.

At first instance, my master seemed a kind man to me. When he brought me in this house, I anticipated a royal treatment. I expected him to take me along wherever he went. I admired him and considered myself fortunate to have him as my master. Whenever he touched me, I felt over-the-top bliss. I could sense that he adored me as much as I revered him. I knew I had come at the right place.

But it cannot be spring throughout the year. He seemed to be a busy man, always attending phone calls. He lived alone. For me, he was everything; but for him, I don’t think I mattered as much. He soon began to neglect me.

One fine evening, in a fit of hysteric outrage, he dumped me in a corner. I was injured in several places, but there are no hospitals for us. My spine was almost damaged. I wailed and wept; I despised what my loving master did to me. But he paid no heed to my screams- or maybe he could not comprehend my tongue. Since that confounded day, I have never been able to sleep peacefully. For seven nights in a row, I awoke imploring him to spare me. But he was not there to listen. He walked off, captivating me in this grim place.

I miss my sisters, brothers and friends. I miss my family. We all stayed together in a house which was more like a store. I had many friends back there. The head of our house was a bibliophile and shrewd businessman. There was an underlying tenderness in the way he saw us, cleaned us and always wanted to portray our best side to new prospective masters. With due respect to the warmth he provided to us in this stone-hearted world, we would go to any master he sent us to, without repudiating. This is how all of us would depart without grievances.

At my old home, my room was brightly lit. Every morning I woke up with the sun and slept in the arms of stars. I don’t know if my previous master decoded my preferences, but he always let me station next to the window. That is how I grew up, with nature. My clothes always shone when sunlight touched it. They waved when the breeze swept past me. The room had no curtains, only a door that my master locked each night before going to bed.

I have not seen the sun rise ever since I came here. I arise to pitch black darkness. Nothing is visible in the room before 9 a.m., until the maid comes to clean the room and switches on all lights. I have not talked to the stars about my last crush for so long. They might have forgotten me by now. The moon must be very relieved these days. I cannot see it waning anymore.

I don’t know why my new master didn’t take me along with him. Why couldn’t he release me? Why did he have to dump me? Why didn’t he kill me once and for all? Why did he have to subject me to such a lonely, cursed life? Why was I a victim of his frustration? Don’t I deserve a life in this world just like anybody else?

Life in captivity- it is one of the worst things that could happen to you. I can only imagine how animals stay in zoos and birds survive in cages. It is so difficult to be trapped alone, forbidden from moving. If I could walk, I would escape from this despicable place the very day he mistreated me. Sometimes, life does that to you. It closes every door, shuns you in the remotest corners. Helplessness is being able to do nothing about it. Sooner or later, you shall realize that for others, you are just not worth the effort.

If I am ever able to emancipate myself, I will run back to my old home. But I will also check upon my new master. Is he okay? No matter what he did to me, he had a life- I know he did. I would want to find out if he is fine. I cannot wait to reunite with my family. Most of my friends and family would have been sold to other masters. But there would be new ones and I would be glad to meet them. I long to return to my first and only home.

For most of us, there is no homecoming. Once we are sold to a master, there is no chance we can return home. But I see a ray of hope. Our old master often bought some of us again for a lower price, if the new master no longer wished to keep us. I don’t know how much money I was sold for. I had my eyes shut when the transaction was being processed. I didn’t want to go to any other master. But I could not tell this lest I shall hurt my old master. One of the reasons he kept us caringly was that the better we looked, the more we appealed the prospective buyers. He raised us as pigs for slaughter but we never minded because in the company of our beloved, we did have the time of our lives.

The maid has come again, after a week. The room stinks. Cobwebs have accumulated in every corner. There are so many right next to me. Alike the master, she pays no attention to me. She does not even touch me, she considers me so filthy. If she looked at me, I’d try to initiate conversation with her. I am so tired of keeping quiet. My mouth longs to utter a syllable. I seem to have gone mute since the incident six months ago. Those cries that fell on my master’s deaf years and the screams I awake to every morning- except yelling, I seem to have given no other task to my vocal cord in the past half year.

Imprisonment is not only a physical but also a mental assault. It is imprisonment of thoughts, ideas, voices, opinions, expression, choices and freedom. It is imprisonment of hope, joy, ecstasy, delight, vigour and life per se. It seems to be an end to life but not an end to agony; end to interaction but not to isolation.

Life as an old, torn, no more read book is not easy, my dear readers!


About the author:

A nineteen year old who loves reading, writing and orating. ​Reads fiction and started non-fiction lately too. Writes a blog, essays, stories, poems, letters, songs and anything else that strikes her mind. Often comperes events. 

Potterhead. Hufflepuff. Fighter. Motivator. Hardworking. Workaholic. Loves her family. Few friends. Loves few but loves too much. 

Takes pleasure in making others feel special. Wants to spread happiness all over and be the sunshine :) 

Aishwarya wrote this story inspired by this prompt:


I like how the prompt has been used as a hope for the character in the story, something that in fact, isn’t really a part of the story.

If you like the story, comment here or on Aishwarya’s blog telling her about it! 
She’d love to know your feedback.

The list of prompts was inspired by this article I happened upon, quite a few have stories written about them so do check them out!

This is the fifth story of a part of a series of stories I’m posting, which were written by my friends, I talk about it here.

Here’s the previous story, you should check it out!

And here’s the very first one, if you’d like to read that!

There might be more to come, but it depends on several factors, so as of now I can’t tell you for sure.

In any case, I’ll be posting other stuff as well, so you’ll want to return to the blog for my acerbic wit and humour, which, admit it, you’ve missed for a while now.😉

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