Breaking news!!

The entry sent into the "Clarity of Night" contest has managed to bag an "honorary mention"!! The unedited version of the story shall be put up soon on the blog. Till then, here is a story, which was done after Metamorphosis , incorporating a mix of narrative techniques. It also includes the staccato narrative that I used for the entry. Needless to say, feedback only makes a writer feel a writer, so drop in your words of wisdom, if deemed necessary.
Presenting, The Pill...

The Guy @ 12:05 p.m.

The biggest hallucination to live for is Life.
Right or wrong, good or evil, are like grapes on
A neglected table. Rotten or otherwise,
Who cares a shit?
Sometimes, the colors speak.
The red says its fading, the purple; rotating.
You want to stay afloat in this shithole, you gotta swim for
Life. Sometimes all you need is a telephone.
It gets you hooked or laid. Both or neither.
Sometimes or Always. You become the mirror after
The Pill. That’s when you see fangs and the burning eyes.
He is going to get you. I am the one. Time to shoot up to the stars.

The Room @ 12:20 p.m.

Torn wallpaper. Red and faded at places. Discarded needles from last month. Three legged table with flecks of cocaine. Bed with unwanted, dried stains. Blood, semen, puke. Necessarily not in that order. One eyed Bob Marley discarded cushion cover. One man lying in the corner, semi conscious. Waking and not liking. Misused telephone, being manhandled right now. Call the dealer. No purple.

The Dealer @ 12:35 p.m.

I don’t live to make the world a better place; no one does.
I scatter happiness though. A lot of it, sometimes.
I make you feel like being on a rainbow.
I make you see purple. I make your face melt and
then refreeze it. I make you feel Out of the Human and
Into the Soul.

Sometimes I make you feel bugs crawling all over.

It has to be just one pill this time. My rent is overdue.
I can’t let him die on me.

Not just yet.

The Pill @ 1 p.m.

I have landed.

Landing on a three legged table with specks of cocaine
for company doesn’t exactly make you feel like
Neil Armstrong. It makes me feel good though, that I am the
only one here. I will be gone in a while,
taking away guilt, pain, anguish, greed, hatred, neglect,
loneliness, jealousy, angst, disbelief, betrayal, lust,
redemption, loathing.

Can’t blame me. Gotta trip sometimes y'know…


The Guy @ 1:30 p.m.

Ever tried hypnotizing time? I have been doing it
for the past fifteen minutes. At one time, you want to
slow it down and shrink it at another. Sometimes you
want it to disappear, leaving you in a timeless,
spaceless…gap.
I have taken the pill. I can feel it starting to happen.
I go to the other side of the mirror now. Reverse.
What's in Flow here, is always the Wolf there…
Menacing. I don’t like goin' in there, but then again;
What’s left of this side anyways? The watch says its
half past while I have been hypnotizing time for only a quarter.
I guess I have hypnotized time.Purple time. The red is getting brighter.
The reverse is beginning. I am going into the mirror now.

Reverse.
Re-verse.
River. See.


m.p. 03:3 @ guy, The

LivE.
Colors see I.
ReddeR.
Life for Swim.
DiaL.
FloW.
Guy, The; Am I? High, am I?

Repeat Telecast

Hello, lost reader! Since you have wandered in here and wondering what to do, there is this writeup which is waiting for you! It had been published before and taken out, and is back now. This is the original unedited version. Incase you want to see the one which did not win any prizes and is a more refined version of this one, then click here. Since I am in a good mood, there is another fresh story right where this ends, and wonder of wonders, its been added today as well!
Double whammy yo!! :)



Eating Out

It was just another night.Maybe not quite.

Waiters shuffled around like exotic insects while dim lights created haloes around the heads of the people who sat, uncaring of the world which eroded around them like neglected birthday cakes.These people sat and cared for sins over sanity,for sex over salvation; a sea of ripe filth which was beyond redemption.No one noticed when two rather well-dressed people walked in and sat at a table in the corner which was empty. "Two glasses of Chardonnay please", one of them ordered. He was dressed in a white suit, complemented with a white tie, and his eyes exuded brilliance which was almost unearthly. His blond hair almost shone. "Not very angelic...", the other guy mused and passed a half hearted smile. He had long hair and was rather peacefully dressed. There was a calm on his face, something which seemed to echo the solitude of centuries. He looked weary. The waiter arrived and placed two flute glasses filled with a clear liquid which bubbled slightly with subdued brilliance.Both of them picked up the glasses and looked into each other's eyes. "To humanity", they chorused and moved the glasses towards their pressed lips. And then it happened. The glass in the hands of the long-haired guy started humming and vibrating softly. Bubbles rose from below and burst on the surface in a soft hiss of expensive wine spray. The color of the liquid started slowly dancing, almost psychaldelic, changing into a fine azure. The other guy stared with a look of resignation over his face. The liquid now started thickening and the bubbling abated.It finally rested, a glass full of crimson, peacefully settled on the white tablecloth. During all this commotion, the guy in the white suit had managed to get up and slowly move behind his partner. He nudged him and they both slowly slipped out of the restaurant. All that was left behind was a startled expression of a common waiter staring at a wine-glass filled with clear blood on an expensive white table cloth. Both of them walked on the road outside with dim street light streaming at their faces. Finally the guy in the white suit spoke,
"Dont you think it ought to be the other way round?"

An Open Conversation

He looked down, what looked like miles below, cars zooming past signals, ants running amok among scattered crumbs. The moon, of course had no business interfering, so it stared,nonchalantly and continued to shine upon a dismal world.He wiped away a tear that seemed almost on the verge of stepping out of the comfy confines of his eyelids."Only I am allowed to fall;from grace or from the top of a building",he thought and thats when the past came hurtling back, an unruly engine without a driver.His life was the way it was supposed to play out in the movies;his girl dumped him for someone richer, he lost his job to recession.The latest was his landlord finally asking him to vacate the house.So here he was, talking to himself, playing out the movie of His Life.This is how it was all supposed to end. He would jump off this building, stop traffic for sometime,till a few screams later, someone would finally scrape him off the sidewalk.Quite simple actually.Infact...

" I wouldn't do that if I were you", someone spoke from behind him.The shock almost knocked him off balance, into the screaming nothingness below, but he just managed to right himself.He couldnt let his death be an accident.It had to be a well thought of exit from this world to the next.No accidents please.

The man was standing in the shadows and was not clearly visible. He wore a shirt and pants, all shadow colored, not revealing anything about him. Besides, when he had come on the terrace to end his life, he clearly remembered himself being alone.Then this must be...

"Yes I am the Devil himself", the man said and moved forward. He was now standing in the dimmed neon glow of the single bulb that flickered on the terrace. The man was, no offence whatsoever, ordinary.He looked like he could use some maintenence but being in hell was far from it. So our very own "suicide man" asked the question that would probably be bubbling in some cornerof your brain now,

"You dont Look like the devil."

"If you had expected me to come with my tail and pitchfork, I am sorry to have broken your heart", he retorted, smartly fishing out a cigerette from his pocket and lighting it. The glow from the match revealed what the bleak bulb could not; two pointy little stubs sticking out of his head. That proved it then. This was the devil. The suicide man believed it and he did not need a certificate.

Smoke rose up, forming a little stinky cloud of cigrette smoke, as he continued," I decided to give you more time you know. A few setbacks and you want to come storming, right up my ass!Whatever happened to perseverance and 'things get better'?Couldnt we all use a little more time?"

This was starting to get a little weird for someone who had come up to put a period to his life's sentence.He stared at the man who claimed to be The Devil and wondered if this was all a dream. He looked down at the traffic which was still moving just as he had left it.He finally mustered the courage to ask him what had been troubling his mind,
"Wouldnt you be happy to have me as a part of your army? Or maybe in the league or whatever you call it?"

"Accomadation is a problem everywhere sonny",the Devil said slowly, rings of smoke drifting out of his mouth."Its this new thing that I have started.I try to reduce as much traffic up there as I can, and ask people like you to hang around here. A little bit of effort and things start getting chirpy. Trust me, its happened to people before you, and there is no reason why it wouldnt happen to you!All I am saying is stick around for a while and if you dont like it, then you anyways have a one-way ticket to my place!"

His things were all over the place when she had spoken her final words, " you could do better you know. Better than this atleast!"And then, with a swooping motion she had crashed the vase that had been standing like a dusty sentry at the corner of his roomfor years. The sound echoed in his head like a hollow drum. He shut his eyes tight and when he opened them, he was still standing in front of The Devil in overalls,smoking the common man's cigerette.

"Ok, how's this for a deal;you dont jump now, and I dont tell anyone up there that you were a sissy. Infact no one needs to know that you committed suicide.If you let it go for now, I would pass off your death as a heroic attempt to make an old lady cross the road, whenever you die. That way you get a double deal!"

Funny.Maybe that wouldnt be the right word, but really, who cared? He had come to end it all, and here was the Devil, trying to take him off the ledge like a cunning insurance agent.Had he not been there, his existence would have been a myth by now. Ash to ash, dust to dust.

But the last one finally struck home. Here was a chance of living off another week,maybe more, and then entering the next place in style.He would give it his best shot and hope things to work out.If it didnt, he already had, as they said "the devil on his side". So he spoke,

" All right Mr Devil. I like your proposal. I am not going to kill myself right now. Instead, as it happens in the good stories, I would try to be a better person or whatever they call it. But if that doesnt work out, you know you would have to stick."

"You have the devil's word my boy. Now go before I change my mind", he said and looked up to a sky where someone had left out a neglected bunch of stars. Withing seconds, our suicide man, was gone from the terrace, leaving the smoker to his own tending.

He stubbed out the cigerrete and reached out for his horns. "Almost real", he smiled to himself and took off the hairband carefully, so the horns would not be damaged.He stuffed it in his coat pocket and walked towards the door, mumbling to himself,

"I wish being the janitor of this building was a little easier..."

The Machine- Part 1

“I want a washing machine”, he said with finality in his tone. This had to happen, maybe a little later, but it was destined. The reason of this outburst was owing to the recent string of events that had cropped up in his life.
First there was Ronnie. He would have been more than happy to pretend that he did not exist but there were life functions associated with this…this thing. He ate and he slept. He spoke when the food was out or if he needed something. Chairs and tables did not eat, nor did they talk back. This guy did. He did not socialize but strangely required three pairs of clothes everyday. He slept enough to make the table in his room feel that it was moving around a lot more.
His clothes had been piling up and so were Ronnie’s. It would take Ronnie over a year to run out of clothes and he already had. And for some strange reason, he was fated to wash clothes for both of them. Why? He was the younger brother. It seemed like washing clothes of your sibling came like a precondition when you were born after him. Just like the price tag, which would always have to be in some hidden corner when you bought stuff from the mall. Like a secret smell, which lingered when you took off your shoes at the end of the day. It was just…. there.
So just when the pile of clothes had started resembling a Tibetan monastery, the thought had struck. The earnings were rather emotional, but this was important. Hell, this was priority. So the thought had been presented in front of the finance minister. And that had taken some courage.

***

“Get it”, he said and threw the credit card at him. This was a dream. He surely couldn’t have his brother’s card that easy. There was a catch. And then it came, a rush of pelting rain on a rather turbulent sea. “ Don’t make a noise after you get it and yeah, you start with the dishes too then. Also there is the phone bill that you would need to submit. I hope you remember the maid is out for two weeks starting tomorrow, so yeah.”

“Yeah. I am an idiot. Yeah. This is what I had been pining for when I asked for the washing machine. Yeah, I so totally want to be treated as a complete knucklehead. Yeah. HELL YEAH!!”

He did not say this, but his head could actually have blown off with the vocal warfare in his head. He just pinched his lips praying that his brother would turn into a lump of foul smelling dung and that he would exact revenge. His first did not come true. The second did.
(to be continued...)



[ This is a long story so I am putting in up in parts. Keep 'em feedbacks comin'! :) ]