Killing the Creator (part 18)

Click here to read the previous parts.

My thoughts were interrupted by Al’s harsh whispers from the inside.

“Spruce!” He sounded quite tense- like he’d messed up something.

Oh shit. Not again.

I hurried in. The Creator was still asleep, thank god, but Al looked like he’d seen a ghost. He was clutching his left arm, the syringe lying half-empty on the floor at his feet.

My hand automatically clapped over my mouth.

“Did you…”

“Yes. Now hurry.”

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Killing the Creator (part 16)

Click here to read the previous parts.

Katherine Marlow sat down against a cybernetically-enhanced ash tree, clutched her knees and put on her best helpless face. Frankly, she was offended by the fact that in spite of being a silver-badge warrior, she was chosen to do this lowly job. But of course, orders aren’t meant to be questioned.

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क्या कोई कविता…

उस दिन जब दुनिया ने मिलकर

प्रेम-पर्व मनाया था ,

नफ़रत ने भी पुलवामा पर

मायाजाल फैलाया था।

चाहे उन कायरों को संपूर्ण देश की

बद्दुआ लग जाएगी,

पर क्या कोई कविता उस माँ का

आँचल फिर भर पाएगी ?

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Parade

Hundred-worders were never my thing until I joined WordPress. Then, I wrote a couple of them. Now, with two participations in Carrot Ranch’s Flash Fiction Challenge, (including this one), my formerly practically non-existent mini-fiction skills are getting some exercise. And the added benefit is that I’m blogging today although I have a Maths exam tomorrow. So, here we go:

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Papercraft Arsenal

The new boy liked making little origami weapons- swords, spears, axes- and leaving them on his desk for the next class to find. Aaron Privet was the one who found them this time. Ignoring Mr Doyle’s droning voice going on in the background, he examined the tiny war-instruments with a childlike fascination. When the other kids found them, they usually crushed and threw them away or played with them for a few minutes before becoming bored and flinging them in the dustbin.

But not Aaron. The delicate intricacy with which they’d been fashioned surprised him. He wondered how anyone’s hands could be so deft and clever.

“Mr Privet!”

Aaron hurriedly stuffed them in his pocket as Mr Doyle’s voice, like an arrow, shot straight at him.

“Where’s your attention, Mr Privet?”

“On- on the lesson, Sir.”

“Then get up, Mr Privet, and tell me, what is tan-squared-theta plus one?”

Aaron took a blind shot. “Um… sin-squared-theta?” He hoped it would be correct. Turned out, it wasn’t.

“Everybody, clap for Mr Privet, please!” The class didn’t oblige. It knew what was coming.

“I want fifty problems of trigonometry solved in your notebook by the end of the day, Mr Privet.”

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Necropolis

Hey, folks! Happy Halloween!

So trick-or-treating’s not really common in India (I wish it was) and we don’t celebrate Halloween like the Americans or the British, but I find the idea of Halloween fascinating. So here’s a Halloween- themed poem for you guys. Don’t forget to comment which costume you’ll be wearing if the festival is celebrated in your country.

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