The fighter

Dangerously Afloat

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Smoothly, it floated, sashaying down the slope. It twirled around, nudging its posterior, dancing to the tune of pitter-patter. Oh! It had the moves!

The notes were clear. It’s movement swift. It was a sight to see the graceful moves. Captivated, they looked at it shimming its way through.

As the droplets became heavy with moisture, it bobbed as it went with the flow. It knew the art of adapting to the movement of the stream. There was no stopping it. It was on a mission to captivate its audience. No, it was not everyday that it got a chance to show-off its skills. And it was not ready to risk all the adulation by losing to a menial obstruction.

With determination, it maneuvered a certain puddle that tried to create another obstacle in its path. Nothing! Nothing and no one could prevent it from reaching its goal.

The slush thickened. It wobbled, yet continued its journey. Smeared in mud, it ambled along, its progress still graceful, yet slow. And then…

It did a double take. Stopped. Jumped. Escape, not capitulate- trying to hold its shape.

It tried hard, rearing to be free. Finally, it accepted its demise, grateful that it had got one opportunity to enthrall.

Soaked, and dying, it mustered the remaining strenght to push through, dead set.
Head on! Refusing to accept failure, it strove once more until it succumbed to the damp and drowned.

The paper boat sunk- in shreds of nothingness.

 

https://picsart.com/i/259776631007202

The Divine Key

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The silence was eerie. The darkness was sinister. After his great feat, he had expected joyous celebrations, pompous gifts and that elusive key, his mentor had promised him. He was sure he would get the award of all awards.

 

His mind reassured him that the silence and the darkness were temporary. Therefore, he decided to wait…

 

He had lost count of time. He, however, realised a long period must have elapsed. He was not a person who let fate decide the course of his life. He carved his own future with grit and blood. He took matters in his hands and decided to find his way to the key.

 

He took a step.

 

Where were his feet? He had no feet! Yet, he had somehow moved. He was falling into an abyss that had a rough and rugged surface.

He raised his hands to break the fall, to stop!

 

Where were his hands? He had no hands! Yet, something disrupted his downward fall. He saw his body bounce up! He tried to swim through the air but, he could not feel his hands. Where were his hands?

 

Like shooting stars, arrows pierced his body. He tired as he may, but he couldn’t figure out the damage the arrows had done to his body. He widened his eye! Without hands, he couldn’t rub them. Then he figured out he had no eyes, although he had eyesight. He could feel the sight… But he couldn’t see.

 

Before he could deduce what was wrong with him, he was drowned in a coagulating liquid which had a pungent smell that he remembered. What was it? The liquid was suffocating him. He tried to swim out but, the lack of limbs had constricted him. Sadly the overwhelming smell of blood… Was it blood? He had smelled enough blood to recognise it. Strangely, he couldn’t smell. He had lost his sense of smell.

 

He thought he heard hoofs of angry bulls running towards him. But could he really hear them? Or were they only vibrations? He strained his ears to hear until he realised he had lost his sense of hearing.

 

Suddenly, like a pendulum, he swayed. He burnt in one end and drowned in another.  And then his body started bobbing in the viscose plasma that stifled him. Suddenly it dawned upon him that he could not feel anymore.

 

Bereft of his five senses, he tried to remain confident about his faith and beliefs. He tried to peer through the troubles.

 

What was wrong with him? He was frantic. He thought he was losing his mind until he realised he had lost his power to perceive and think!

 

But he was a warrior, he wouldn’t give up. Slowly he tried to reach this destination. The place where that divine key hung. His master had told him that he would possess the key when he performed that blessed feat.

 

He wouldn’t give up. He tried again until the momentum made him queasy. It made him retch, but, nothing came out. At that moment, he realised he had lost his body, yet, he felt it all!

 

The realisation struck him like lightning. He had lost his senses and his body. He probably was dead. It was only his soul that was facing all that torture.

 

He remembered what his master had said,
‘The blood of your non-believers will help him procure the key to heaven. That key would lead you to a penthouse of affluence and glory.’

 

He had killed a mass of innocent people to get that key. Where were the divine ushers? They hadn’t arrived yet! Didn’t his master tell him that the divine ushers would lead him to the angels and the land of opulence?

 

Robbed of a body and senses, what was that penthouse worth? Had he been fooled?

 

Although he was confused and scared,  he wanted his penthouse! He didn’t want to be a soul without a body. How would he enjoy those divine perks, otherwise?

 

There was a reason he had agreed to be a suicide bomber. He was promised the key to heaven by his master. Without a second thought, he had agreed to bomb them. But where was the key?

 

He was suctioned into a ball of fire. He was burning but not dying. Had he misunderstood his master? Was his fight against the infidels worth it?

 

Were they really infidels?

 

The jarring sound of the alarm woke him up. He was thankful he was still alive and blessed that he was not dead yet. He was honoured that life had given him a second chance.

 

Right then the alarm beeped a second reminder! He looked at his kit. The bomb would explode in the next hour. His master had given him the task to bomb a contingent on the move. His master had promised him that this act would lead him to the key that would direct him the penthouse called heaven.

 

He was in a dilemma. He didn’t know if he should forsake it all or give humanity another chance. But then the bomb beeped another urgent plea.

 

Trusting his master and ignoring his inner voice, in greed of that divine key, he wore the bomb and walked to his target – Death!

Pic Courtsey: C.L.K Reddy Poetry: 'Moon' Poet: Mona Singh ©www.wakenshine.com.

Short-Stories

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Revive.. Transform... Prevail!

 

Fable, as we know is a synonym for stories. In this channel, we will decompose insecurities, fears, hatred, hopelessness, avarice and other pollutants of our human existence. We will release the noxiousness from the lives of the readers and fill their hearts with healthy hope and a shine to live life.

 

Life might be tough. Disillusion maybe it's middle name. The journey of confusion can lead to the ultimate light of self- belief, self-acceptance, and self- enlightenment. All these 'self' elements are actually the 'Selfies' of experience that lead to lasting emotional awareness.

 

The Glitter-Gatherers of Wake-n-Shine will share short stories of life's ways with you. The journey will be fun, and it will make you eager for further installments of the developing plots. You will want more, and you will get it here.

 

When in a sticky situation, you will be reminded of some event from one or some of the short stories that are published here.

 

They will make you smile through those tough times, gear up, maybe be inspired to tackle it with might.