I remember that night,

That night, when I last saw you.

You, with your eyes flooded with tears;

Tears, that told your story,

Story of the loss;

The loss of a loved one,

One, that I had once wished was me;

Me, with my thoughts about you,

You, and your beautiful Eyes;

Eyes, that had made me fall in love,

Love, only a word to me… till we met;
Met, ( Read more... )

As he took his seat, that fateful day; He had no idea what was in store for him. All he had hoped for is a lovely hour long performance and yet, what would grab his attention was where everyone wasn’t looking.

Fifteen minutes after the start he first noticed her. She was sitting in the row in front of him and to his right. Actually it was the ( Read more... )

It rained heavily that night, the papers the next day would talk about statistics of how long back in the past it had rained that much. The newspapers would have missed this story.

He was waiting by the side of the road under a shelter with dozen other people. His bike was parked across the street. As he had run towards the shelter he was hoping ( Read more... )

Found this site that analyses what you write and says which writer you write like… I decided to run the test on a bunch of my short stories and a few of my latest blog posts… Here are the results:

Short Stories:

One Hour - Stephen King

The Question - Issac Asimov

The Photographer - Mark Twain

Fact Is Fiction - P. G. Wodehouse

The Sculptor’s Statue ( Read more... )

Its amazing how when you are thinking of a particular concept or idea and the universe suddenly starts throwing things your way that echo your thoughts. I read somewhere that its a Psychological phenomenon, but its hard to believe that all that is psychology when it seems too ridiculous to be chance… Anyway I digress… This is a follow post to this ( Read more... )

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You have the power to cure all the world’s diseases but the price for this is that you must kill a single innocent child, could you kill that child?

Thats the question asked by the protagonist during the climax of Swordfish… I have thought about that question many times, asked it to a few ppl too… Frankly, the answer might tell you something about ( Read more... )

Yesterday I was reading a short story I wrote about 5 years ago. I was amazed at how my writing has changed over time. While I hope that I write better now, there is one thing I know for sure, the past 'me' had unlimited spirit in writing.

Just reading through five pages of text gave enough perspective to juxtapose the twenty year old me and ( Read more... )

A motion picture, or music, or television, they have to maintain a certain decorum in order to be broadcast to a vast audience. Other forms of mass media cost too much to product to risk reaching only a limited audience. Only one person. But a book… A book is cheap to print and bind. A book is as private and consensual as sex. A book takes time and ( Read more... )

The flakes of snow was all over his face, concentrated on his facial hair. He stopped for a moment to wipe a layer of ice off his forehead and stared at the fog of ice at the distance. His face was the only part of his body exposed to the numbing cold... he had once told a porter "Pain is important my boy... Its the most true feeling of being ( Read more... )