From The Author's Mind

My takes, views, opinions and venting out :P

I usually pen down my thoughts on a general matter which don't have any finite plot line or cast, just simple viewpoints.

Who is to blame

A strangled question manages to come out from my dry throat and rests on my suddenly parched lips. I was perhaps great at being brave, nay let me be honest, pretending in being brave — sounds better.

Yarn Of Thoughts

My little world of fictional stories. 

Imagination and reality truly depends on what one feels and believes in. Doesn't it? There's nothing good or bad, nothing right or wrong, nothing true or false. 

Memories

His POV...

"Even though it's twelve years your presence now creates a void in my heart. I love you Rose... I truly do. Memories barely let me be apart from you. 

Love, 

Daniel"



I scribble my name at the end of the the page...



It's my diary... I am not much of the writer type.. but this is the only way I can communicate with her...



It was gifted by her... on my birthday...



She wanted me to pen down our memories as life takes us ahead...



But the cruel destiny took it's own turn and this diary is only filled with my memories of us together...

Christmas Eve

24th December 1994


Niagara Falls - United States of America.


He.


My little stubby fingers tightened their grip around the rough texture of a navy blue woollen jacket. Even though the biting frost froze me I was irritated of the layers of woollen sweaters piled on me. I clasped my glove covered fingers around the railing and stared at the frozen waterfall in amusement.


"Juno sonny, we must get to the hotel dear! Soon it's gonna strike twelve and it's Christmas and Santa's gonna visit you my boy!" Nanny tugged at my elbow. My maa or dad were never really next to me. Dad was busy in office and Maa always had strange aunties who had their hair fluffed on their head and have atrocious make up piled on their face.

The Letter

Library, the only place where I could calm my head, my son having eaten it by being a mini saint, really he doesn't mind his enemy’s brilliance — even though it hurts him, occupied in those thoughts i come across the section which contained various letters, unknowingly I was drawn to one particular one which was written from a daughter to her mother, I felt a connection there, having just argued against my son , on top was scribbled in dry black ink, “I am happy for her success, this letter is very important” Wow, the exact situation in my house, hence I read on further.