Slinky Boots

Terry had never seen her in his life, but would have known her in a sea of coveralled women.

Five days earlier a chopper had dropped him and eleven others off on the vessel that was to be their home for the next four weeks. He’d smiled and inhaled the salty ocean air. The floating old rust bucket was three generations outdated but it held sentimental value for him. At least twelve hours of each of the next twenty eight days, he would spend working on it, so there was no point moaning about its limitations.
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Childhood

As I walked into the building, nostalgia flooded my senses. That baby blue paint! They’d maintained it all these years. Then the sight of the courtyard came threatening to undo me. Eons ago, this was a large, happy, sandy place students would run amok in while waiting to be picked up by their parents. Now, even empty, I see it is only a tiny space for mini-people. As everyone was in class, the halls were as I never witnessed them except during toilet breaks, “excuse card” in hand —quiet and empty.
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Cows in the Haze (2)

See Part 1 of this story here.

Chinny took the bag from me, peered inside, then marched silently upstairs. I stared at her open-mouthed as she walked away, but for once words failed me. There was no lying this one away. Minutes later I sat before a panel consisting of her and my mother, with Manuch launching his eight year old self in and out of the room like the restless soul he was. He was curious, but caught between listening in and punching the throw-pillows in the sitting-room. Kickboxing was his current obsession.

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Cows in the Haze (1)

It’s my thirty year old birthday today, so naturally I’m home, sitting at my desk and staring out the window at the coming night. It’s still light outside, yet an impatient moon floats in my horizon. Another milestone reached, another reason to grow a beard and reflect. It’s always good to remember. Where would I be, had things turned out differently? Earlier on I browsed nearby houses, and just now I’d been searching online for a decent engagement ring. Who knew? I close the lid of my laptop and drift back to the pre-Google 90’s of my pre-teens—one night in particular that shaped my entire outlook on life.
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The Spanner in My Gears

Like my mother, I’m in love with lists. I love making them, feel safe having them, and endlessly refer to them. So naturally, in a bid to improve myself as a writer, I made several lists documenting my entire process: what makes me tick, genres I’m interested in, what I hate about writing, things I have to work on, etc. Obviously, “challenges” was one of such lists. And in the spirit of having the courage to post the most seemingly-irrelevant, mundane or personal reads (this being personal, without a cloak of fiction), I thought to share this—My List of Writing Challenges—with everyone. Continue reading “The Spanner in My Gears”