Good Luck


“Good luck to you,” she whispered in my ear as she pecked the air next to my cheek and walked away.

My brain told me to say “thank you” – that’s how I’ve been brought up – but I was caught off guard and cognition was limited.

But she is right. Good luck to me indeed.

In a world where I have to convince, argue and force people all the time to let me keep doing the things I am doing or let me do the things I want to do, I need all the luck I can get.

Don’t get me wrong: I am not oppressed or suppressed. I enjoy almost a first-world like lifestyle despite being a speck in my third-world country’s population. But I definitely live in a place where even a broader mind does not let go of (their own definition of) traditions, social structures and the its-always-done-this-ways. And people like me will always want to travel in two different boats at the same time.

It will always be done this way. Good luck to me indeed.

Escape


He looked around the room again as he dabbed the sweat on his forehead.

Lots of people milled about. Too many! But he knew this was it: it was time to run. He shouldn’t waste another seco-

He jumped at the sound of the main door banging open, stricken with panic. Too late.

A vision in white was gliding down the aisle and then in front of him. His fears seemed to melt into oblivion. He realized he’d do anything for her. He was ready to give in!

The minister cleared his throat and began: We are gathered here today…

 

(Originally written for Reader’s Digest’s 100-word Short Story Competition 2013)

Sunday Evening Thoughts


We never do much together but the house seems empty without my sister. I’m sure she’ll have a blast. It is indeed the experience of a lifetime.

Everyone’s really glad that her trip is only for two weeks though, including traveling time. It’s hard to admit that the baby of the family is old enough to leave the nest and step out into the world by herself.

Meanwhile, I use all the technology available to me to stalk her to hide the i-miss-her and the small twinge of green. Flight live-tracking and hotel websites for the win!

Speaking Your Mind


How do you say exactly what’s on your mind? How do you give your listener the exact picture that you’re seeing? That exact array of emotions?

And once another person has heard you, whatever you said becomes toothpaste. You can’t cram the words back in your mouth and swallow them out of existence, no matter how much you want to do so later.

Generally, you have to convince yourself to talk. That talking it out would help you with your problem. You talk yourself into talking. And all the while, your heart pounds like a drum and your throat feels scratchy and you sound squeaky like a boy who hasn’t hit puberty yet.

When you do manage to string two words together and spew them out with sound, it comes out wrong. Of the ocean you want to convey, you barely outline a puddle.

And you realize how futile speaking your mind is. The other person might listen but is not going to understand.

So you trail off, have your palate give your tongue a hug and silently brood on.

Tunnel


This cookie dough doesn’t seem to be getting baked. With each day, I’m just getting older, tireder, rawer.

Ii’s like I’m…stuck. There’s no going anywhere. There’s no moving forward. A perpetual cycle of sameness.

And exhaustion.

Oh, the exhaustion. A deep, bottomless pit, stacking itself on yesterday’s pile, every day, every second.

Where’s the light at the end of this tunnel?