The following short story is from a universe of my own creation, which I am building bit by bit. As such, it is close to my heart. I hope you enjoy it! Expect more from this universe every other Wednesday (opposite to diary entry Wednesdays).
“It’s the king, stupid. See the jewels in his turban?” Karim said, prodding the piece of paper clutched in his new friend’s hands with the wooden stick he had been using as a pretend sword. “And that’s you lot.” He shifted the wooden stick slightly to indicate the swarms of people sat around the central figure.
Sayem frowned down at the drawing, which made ‘his lot’ look quite dirty and ugly. “We don’t look like that.” Continue reading
I still remember when you held me in your arms, both of us illuminated by a full, bright moon determined to show us the best possible versions of ourselves. I was at once the most powerful and the most vulnerable creature in this world. Sometimes I still visit the tiny island where I felt your lips on my neck for the first time, and I can feel them still, a faint ghostly tingling as I turn my face towards the night sky, hoping, praying, that my home did not claim your life as my family insists. That I will see you, an unexpected surprise on the sand, mooring a boat with your head tossed back in careless laughter. But I have not seen you for almost twelve full cycles of that moon, now, and whenever I hear the waves crash against the rocks on particularly stormy nights, hope slips a little further out of reach from my heart. Continue reading
And every other Wednesday I will be back, as I had started last year, with diary entries! (This time will try to keep it up!)
August, some years ago, Age 10
Went to get R his bike. Watched Judwaa.
Wow, was clearly so busy living that that day’s entry was super short! Note, this was the original Judwaa, on a VHS tape.
Judwaa was a Bollywood film that came out in the nineties (slightly betraying my age). It was absolutely ridiculous in terms of plot and everything else, but for some reason I loved it. Watched it a stupid number of times. Continue reading
“Write yesterday’s fortune cookie. It got everything wrong.”
Er, might have missed the point of the above but it inspired the below short piece – enjoy!
Fortune cookies are funny things, aren’t they? They’re either ridiculously cryptic or they’re so simple they’re scoff-worthy.
Last night, I had the girls over for take away and mine said: “You will marry your lover”.
I, of course, had outwardly scoffed and inwardly glowed – that’s the other thing. If they’re what you want to hear, then you still get a warm fuzzy feeling. Continue reading
Very quick post just to say, I’ve been really appalling on here – no posts, nothing for months – and I’m really, really sorry. Especially after my hopeful new year’s post.
The reason is because I’m working on The Ultimate Dream – the Big Project – yes, an actual full blown first draft manuscript of a potential (POTENTIAL), dare I say the word itself, novel.
I do want to continue with this blog as well, though, so I need to work out how to juggle the day job, life, The Ultimate Dream and my Sugar Fuelled Scribblings. It might take a while, however!!
To all those who follow, or stumble upon this blog and read my old posts, thanks, as always, for stopping by 🙂
So I was supposed to be doing doing diary entries on Wednesdays – this has totally failed and only I am to blame!! My battle between work, life, this blog and other creative pursuits continues. Maybe that should be my new year’s resolution – to master the balancing act!
I will return to the diary entries – just as soon as I find the first volume, which I’ve managed to lose. This will not come as a surprise to those reading this who know me.
Er, anyway, in other news, I received a rather cool book for Christmas which is supposed to help me come up with new blog posts. It’s filled with prompts…
So, watch this space!
Thanks for stopping by 🙂
Listening to raindrops, accompanied by the shrieking wind, pounding against the window whilst I sit wrapped in the warmth of a huge blanket.
Immersing myself again and again into my favourite fictional worlds, each visit affording new discoveries.
The smell of my parents’ home as I step over the threshold, the perfect blend of spices, incense and comfort that I have never not known.
The phenomenal taste of my mother’s dal dhokli, best described as an Indian pasta dish, exploding against my tongue in all its tangy, sweet glory
Singing karaoke at the top of my lungs alongside my closest friends. Continue reading