Squishy marshmallows

Sweet white marshmallows. Jane so loved to pop them into her mouth all at once. She had seen them when she had been to the candy store  that morning. Then of course she threw a tantrum and her mother was forced to buy them for her.
Now as she opened the pack of the snowy little things, she felt she heard a whisper. It was just the squishy marsh mallows of course. She took one of them and popped into her mouth. As she bit into it, she hoped that the fleshy taste was just another Halloween flavour.




Rain drops are like love pattering on the window panes. Tara always believed what her mother had to say. If they were little dew drops, there was seemingly less love. She counted them one by one as they raced down the glassy passage.
It was a dark thundery night when she was sitting all by her own. Her little fingers traced the droplets again. But this time , she didn’t know why the drops had turned a mystical scarlet.



I don’t know when the storms passed. The grains of sand had started to blind my eyes, though.My feet failed to meet substantial sand.I trotted towards what seemed to be a withered sack with criss cross patterns. Then it all darkened.

The two Arabs guffawed as one of them held the beetle trap towards the moonlight. “Scarab beetle. The symbol of God. We could keep this one with us .”
Another storm smothered both of their laughs that night.

Author’s note: Scarab beetles and the context was inspired from Paulo Coelho’s  ‘The Alchemist’ .

The show


Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. He clutched his chest both with pain and skepticism of a dreadful tomorrow. He stood on the stage illuminated in the limelight of his frail previsions.
” Just give your best in the concert.  Be strong .Thereafter, we shall move on to your next round of chemo…..” Somehow, the doctor’s words brought him solace today.
His hands had turned cold and his knees shook. The drapes in red stretched in front of him were the only demarcation that kept him from the bustling crowd outside.
The musicians behind him were all positioned appropriately.
The lights above him flickered to life. He clutched the microphone harder as the curtains parted gradually.

The stars tonight shall shine
  In shadows of yesteryears
  Because the dying star
  Has been born again.
  Let the curtains part in glory
  For the show has just begun…’