no sugar please

He wakes up in cold sweat. Not that this was an unusual thing for him but it still makes his heart race like a gray hound. Nightmares are a part of his life. Hus whole body’s shaking and with those shaking hands, he pops some pills into his hand and gulps them down with some water. He kneels down and sits taking deep breaths. He’s calm after a few minutes. He calls, even though it’s midnight, he cals, believing that she’ll receive the call. “what happened?”- a reply “it struck again.” “take the pills. Please take care of yourself yaar” “I just did. I will. How are you?” “I’m fine. A bit sleepy though” “then go to sleep. You have college tomorrow.” “I will. But first you go to sleep” “think I’ll go for a ride. good night dear” “good night. make that right short will ya?” “ok” he hangs up and turns on his computer. After sending some songs to his cell phone, he quietly sneaks out of his house with his bicycle. The cold air is refreshing. He then rides along the three hour...

“SURV;VE” That’s the tattoo in his wrist. He then pulls up his hood to go back to his home from the jog he was on. A dark house where no sunlight touches the floor. It’s a messed up home. papers thrown everywhere, dimly lit room, smell of coffee and booze and two pictures hanging on the wall. He looks at each of them and smiles.      It was soon 7 o’clock. He dresses up for work with his suit and ironed pant and just as he was about to put on his shoes, he remembers that he was fired from the job yesterday. “damn I forgot that shit” well it was his fault technically since he punched the teeth off his boss. He has some anger issues and yet none of his colleagues knew about that. He only had a few friends and most of them were far away from him. “guess I led them there” he speaks as he changes to his casual wear and picks up his bag.      “don’t you have a job to go to? What the hell are you doing here?” Sia greets him as soon as he appea...

Now at 20 years of age, he still has that wish that he had some twenty years ago. What was the wish you say? For that we have to go back thirteen years. It was a time when people rarely had mobile phone, any computer or MP3’s. it was a time of tape recorders and earphones.      He was just seven years of age when he first saw a tape recorder. His brother bought some cassette albums to play with it. Even though it was somehow uneasy, they enjoyed. He looked up to this guy; his brother. While he was somewhat of a social outcast, his elder brother was a cool guy. His brother’s name was Roy. Roy had friends; he played, flirted, sang and enjoyed his life. He was somewhat interested in music. the younger brother (Peter) was interested in words. Roy never cared for Peter though. As a matter of fact, Peter was always a pebble in Roy’s feet. Roy always tried to hurt peter, be it emotionally or physically.      Peter never knew his brothers emoti...

It was somewhere around mid-summer of 2017 I guess. He was walking down this dark alley of Obscureville, smoking and drinking canned coffee. He always loved doing this; drinking coffee and smoking while taking a midnight stroll. Yes it was midnight. Dark clouds gathered in his mind and while the extra dark coffee tried to clear his mind, those thoughts tried to fight their way into his mind and somewhere among those thoughts he saw a face. He smirked. 2015, the year when an unexpected event in his life occurred. Criss always had a knack for portraits and in fact he was even going to a portrait sketch class. He’d been going ther for over a year and was excelling at his own pace. He was fairly getting good at charcoal. He was calm, friendly but slightly damaged if you must say. But that’s not the important part here. An acquaintance of his had asked to teach her older sister how to sketch. Agreeing to her request he called up Simran; the older sister. At first he was some...

“People call me crazy, idiot, moron and a freak. No! I’m not a definition of a normal teenager and yes, what they say is true, I’m a moron, a freak, an idiot and crazy.             May be it has something to do with my anti-socialism or maybe it’s just the way I love solitude. At 16, most people would be roaming the streets but I am different. Dear Diary, I’m a freak, a loner”             With these words he closes his diary and takes out a cigarette from his hidden stash. It’s almost midnight so everyone in his family is asleep, except him of course. He goes to his balcony from where the street is visible and watches the emptiness as he sits down and smokes his cigarette. Funny, even at this hour there still are walkers, the roamers of the night. It’s his favorite pastime, especially since he has problem sleeping. After smoking 2/3 cigarette he goes back inside and turns...