Sunday, September 9, 2012

Sunday Scribblings: Existing and Living

For Sunday Scribblings, and the prompt is "Revolution".

Sunday Scribblings


I took the earth-goes-around-sun definition of "revolution", and here's a little fantasy nugget:

image by 2753productions on deviantart


The other world revolved around the sun in exactly 12 hours, and we looked at the people there and pitied them.

There were six hours for sleep and six hours for work, and no time for leisure. There were no dogs on leashes being walked by its owners and no galleries full of art connoisseurs blabbering about symmetry and surrealism. There were no parties that went on till the morning and no time to learn the names of the constellations. Once they had beautiful names and shone with the majesty of their mythology, but now they were just stars in an unordered cosmos. There were no beautiful ponds of koi fish as there was no time to admire them, and birthday cakes were simple things with no butter-cream or chocolate. Weddings were quick affairs and dreams often had to be cut short for the sake of life. Books were short and had to be read at the workplace or in quick snatches just before sleep. Dads had no time to play ball with their sons and Moms had no time to knit. Girls never learned how to slow waltz and boys knew only to peck, not kiss. Library books caught dust and the librarian didn’t have enough time to dust them. There were no serenades and no gondolas under the moon, no opera or acid-tossing rock concerts. There was no time to dance with gypsies or run through the waves, no circus elephants dressed in red or festivals that celebrated only mangoes. There were no long walks through foggy parks or stolen moments under gas lamps. Friends didn’t meet for pizza and old men didn’t meet to discuss the affairs of the world.


The other world revolved around the sun in exactly 12 hours and the people there were adapted to it. They didn’t miss what we had because they never had them, but still we looked at them and pitied them because their lives had no magic.


The other world revolved around the sun in exactly 12 hours, and those 12 hours were the gap between “existing” and “living”.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Trifextra Writing Challenge: 66 word story


The Trifextra Writing Challenge is a writing challenge that happens every weekend- and it's a lightning fast one at that! This week, the challenge is to add 33 words to this 33-word story:

The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction.  She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be.
Here's my take on the challenge:


thanks to wb-skinner on DeviantArt for this image

The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction.  She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be.
She had spent hundred years collecting as much as possible, and there was never enough happiness in the world to fill a bottle.
But sorrow was black as tar and filled entire rooms.

(I just couldn't help but go all fantasy on this as well)
Happy Weekend! Be back tomorrow with Sunday Scribblings :)

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Sunday Scribblings: Gypsies or Dragons?

Note: I want to tell you so many stories. They're just bouncing around in my head, and I don't know which to write. I don't know how to start because the images and characters are so strong in my mind I'm afraid they won't translate as well to paper. I could cry, but instead I'll write till I get it right, or until a particular little story sits up and says "Just publish me on the blog, already!"
This one is kind of weird. It got stuck in my head and spun round and round and wouldn't let go, although I kept telling it that it was too fantastical for such a tiny, insignificant, dreamy little thing. The unedited version had a paragraph about 700 sheep and another one about The Sound of Music, but somehow I couldn't put that in the final version.

This one is for Sunday Scribblings, and the prompt is Soothe.


Her soul was restless- twisting and turning, trying to break out of its shell, fluttering wildly as a butterfly caught in chewing gum.
She reached for the sleeping pills but she was supposed to be off them. A doctor had said so. She was already at the threshold of dreaded narcotic dependency. Addiction, habituation, substance abuse, white plague. The man had had a vocabulary.  
“Call this number if you can’t sleep,” he’d said, pressing a yellow sticky note to her arm. She’d pushed it into the pocket of her jacket, and she could see it on the floor now, peeking out of the jacket like a sunshine yellow beacon.
WE SOOTHE, she read, picking it up. We Soothe. What kind of a name was that?
It was two a.m. by the clock; two a.m. with the moonlight streaming through the window and the apple-tree outside rustling in the wind; rustling and rustling and raising its branches to the sky like something that wanted wings- any kind of wings- dragonfly wings or angel wings or the wings of a tattered devil; it didn’t matter as long as flight was achievable.
(It was two a.m. by the clock and her soul was restless, imagining apple trees flying.)
The hotline rang thrice when she dialed it. And then a boy said, “Hullo?”
“Hullo? I was supposed to call this number. If I couldn’t sleep…”
“Of course.” The boy said. “Gypsies or dragons?”
She sat on the bed and stared at the receiver. “What?”
“Which one do you like? Gypsies or dragons? Don’t say wizards, I’m sick of wizards. And we don’t even offer vampires anymore.”
“Gypsies, I suppose. Dragons sound frightful.”
“Okay.” Said the boy, and then the phone was dead.
She swore and lay back, but already something seemed to be short-circuiting in her brain. There were shifting sand dunes and a drowsy, golden afternoon sun in her mind. There were a long line of camels and a scent of soporific spices. A fire crackled purple and orange and whispered soft, strange whispers in the way only fires in fantasy books can. There were swirling, twirling skirts around her in a profusion of colors- purple and coral and grenadine and crimson- and gold jewelry flashed in sleepy blinks from brown, lithe limbs. A voice smooth and cool as the deepest, quietest cave sang a lullaby, and she felt her eyes close.
           We soothe, indeed.

*note*: I couldn't find the original artist to credit this image to, it's been used in the internet for so long that the original source is quite untraceable. So if anyone knows, please tell!

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Bookshelves, Bookshelves, oh my!

So my shelves are all filled! With my little brother and I both buying books left and right, being gifted books, and showered with books from all sides (we are notorious bookworms, I think) our shelves are full. Believe me, this is no simple feat. We have four built-in glass-door wall shelves, two large metal shelves and a smaller wooden shelf in the Library, one blue cutesy shelf in my room and one in my brother's, and there is no place to keep the new books. They're sitting on the floor! (If I could find my camera, I'd photograph them for you!) So we need a new shelf. And while getting one seems unlikely right now (we've just bought a lot of other furniture) looking at glorious bookshelves can't hurt.

Right?

I would totally love this one. But more for CDs maybe?


So neat!


Yin- Yang. Aren't you gorgeous?

squee!! Blue shelves!

Gasp, more blue!
Now, for the insanely awesome stuff:


Gasp! Can't be real.
No way. I refuse to believe.
(Oh my pretty!)


Want want want!
Need need need!



Holy hell!


swoon-worthy. also, something that seems right out of Twilight.



i love you. i do.
Maybe next week I'll actually blog about something useful. (Not that this isn't useful. It is. It inspires me to get rich, or get really, really artistic, or get a really, really artistic carpentry-loving, book-adoring friend)
For now, eye-candy galore.
For more (actually buyable) and bloody awesome bookshelves, check out one of my favorite eye-candy furniture stores that will never ship anything to India, Fabulous and Baroque
Have a great Sunday.

Ciao!

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Images used in this blog are either digital art created by the author or free photographs. Reviews and views expressed on this site are strictly personal. Text by Varsha Dinesh is copyrighted under Creative Commons.