Amardeeps
Here to survive. Here to soar. Here to succeed
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Explore the concept of Silence in a poem...
Written by Amardeeps in portal Poetry & Free Verse

I have no voice and I must cry

A million rabid voices reside within a vessel

That heat and grow angry at every thought

But before the lips move to produce a sound

A tinier voice of apathy mumbles in a forgotten tone

'Let things be as they are and move on'

So the voice pulls back its brothers in heft

And closes the book on all discussions

Even before they had been formed

Never to utter a confession of love towards a girl

Or talk about deeper pains with loved ones

Keeping mum at every failure, rejection or loss

By the time the voice ends its pace of misery

The others too would retreat and vanish

And I a fool would be left to talk to it alone

But even today I feel its best not to advance

For we were never on speaking terms ever

6
1
0
Juice
16 reads
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Explore the concept of Silence in a poem...
Written by Amardeeps in portal Poetry & Free Verse
I have no voice and I must cry
A million rabid voices reside within a vessel
That heat and grow angry at every thought
But before the lips move to produce a sound
A tinier voice of apathy mumbles in a forgotten tone
'Let things be as they are and move on'
So the voice pulls back its brothers in heft
And closes the book on all discussions
Even before they had been formed
Never to utter a confession of love towards a girl
Or talk about deeper pains with loved ones
Keeping mum at every failure, rejection or loss
By the time the voice ends its pace of misery
The others too would retreat and vanish
And I a fool would be left to talk to it alone
But even today I feel its best not to advance
For we were never on speaking terms ever
6
1
0
Juice
16 reads
Login to post comments.
Advertisement  (turn off)
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Amardeeps in portal Blog

Hello Dear Prosers

Dear Prosers,

I know I've been writing after quite some time but I've been really busy with a cool new app service that I wanted to test and share with all of you. The Indian Economist had picked up my work and are now running a campaign to test out how well users are able to review their Android app.

To put it short, it would really be useful for the study to have as many downloads and reviews. So it's my humble request to everyone if they can download the app and leave a review. This is the link for the app-

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.theindianeconomist&;hl=en

Kindly take a screenshot of the app download and review to my mail for confirmation. That's amardeeps5201@gmail.com

As a sample screenshot, this is how they must be taken-

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/B0twjJmqO_6hDn55C2jb3eWr0hb2LN_GwgYtUjK0zzr5yKlmy2_agVPrg5DE2qsK9TDEL9f8EvJ-zaTCX971cUNbHA0IPNpV-ocaBt_l0T9Mpj6xXQYMmQtkUQ5-QXXRpU1knd6OVfw

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/3dNOVSwCADhwI5hqWIqbOt1DH7dfwWDz8Ow4oZQMvp-Bl35aqrLeru8sgROCE-YLkEV32Qd4P3EVerLbQWgpijZDVxaxdu4bBNoiPYdwbJFaERPa380B_SEhkyrw3BS1jfPk8gYK54Q

Once again sincerely requesting everyone to contribute to this study. Thank you for all the love and support. Until next time.

0
0
0
Juice
10 reads
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Amardeeps in portal Blog
Hello Dear Prosers
Dear Prosers,
I know I've been writing after quite some time but I've been really busy with a cool new app service that I wanted to test and share with all of you. The Indian Economist had picked up my work and are now running a campaign to test out how well users are able to review their Android app.

To put it short, it would really be useful for the study to have as many downloads and reviews. So it's my humble request to everyone if they can download the app and leave a review. This is the link for the app-
https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.theindianeconomist&;;hl=en

Kindly take a screenshot of the app download and review to my mail for confirmation. That's amardeeps5201@gmail.com
As a sample screenshot, this is how they must be taken-
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/B0twjJmqO_6hDn55C2jb3eWr0hb2LN_GwgYtUjK0zzr5yKlmy2_agVPrg5DE2qsK9TDEL9f8EvJ-zaTCX971cUNbHA0IPNpV-ocaBt_l0T9Mpj6xXQYMmQtkUQ5-QXXRpU1knd6OVfw
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/3dNOVSwCADhwI5hqWIqbOt1DH7dfwWDz8Ow4oZQMvp-Bl35aqrLeru8sgROCE-YLkEV32Qd4P3EVerLbQWgpijZDVxaxdu4bBNoiPYdwbJFaERPa380B_SEhkyrw3BS1jfPk8gYK54Q

Once again sincerely requesting everyone to contribute to this study. Thank you for all the love and support. Until next time.
0
0
0
Juice
10 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Amardeeps

Hello Again People

Dear Prosers,

I know I've been writing after quite some time but I've been really busy with a cool new app service that I wanted to test and share with all of you. The Indian Economist had picked up my work and are now running a campaign to test out how well users are able to review their Android app.

To put it short, it would really be useful for the study to have as many downloads and reviews. So it's my humble request to everyone if they can download the app and leave a review. This is the link for the app- 

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.theindianeconomist&hl=en

Kindly take a screenshot of the app download and review to my mail for confirmation. That's amardeeps5201@gmail.com

As a sample screenshot, this is how they must be taken-

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/B0twjJmqO_6hDn55C2jb3eWr0hb2LN_GwgYtUjK0zzr5yKlmy2_agVPrg5DE2qsK9TDEL9f8EvJ-zaTCX971cUNbHA0IPNpV-ocaBt_l0T9Mpj6xXQYMmQtkUQ5-QXXRpU1knd6OVfw

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/3dNOVSwCADhwI5hqWIqbOt1DH7dfwWDz8Ow4oZQMvp-Bl35aqrLeru8sgROCE-YLkEV32Qd4P3EVerLbQWgpijZDVxaxdu4bBNoiPYdwbJFaERPa380B_SEhkyrw3BS1jfPk8gYK54Q

 

  Once again sincerely requesting everyone to contribute to this study. Thank you for all the love and support. Until next time.    

0
0
0
Juice
10 reads
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Amardeeps
Hello Again People
Dear Prosers,
I know I've been writing after quite some time but I've been really busy with a cool new app service that I wanted to test and share with all of you. The Indian Economist had picked up my work and are now running a campaign to test out how well users are able to review their Android app.

To put it short, it would really be useful for the study to have as many downloads and reviews. So it's my humble request to everyone if they can download the app and leave a review. This is the link for the app- 
https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.theindianeconomist&;hl=en

Kindly take a screenshot of the app download and review to my mail for confirmation. That's amardeeps5201@gmail.com
As a sample screenshot, this is how they must be taken-
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/B0twjJmqO_6hDn55C2jb3eWr0hb2LN_GwgYtUjK0zzr5yKlmy2_agVPrg5DE2qsK9TDEL9f8EvJ-zaTCX971cUNbHA0IPNpV-ocaBt_l0T9Mpj6xXQYMmQtkUQ5-QXXRpU1knd6OVfw
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/3dNOVSwCADhwI5hqWIqbOt1DH7dfwWDz8Ow4oZQMvp-Bl35aqrLeru8sgROCE-YLkEV32Qd4P3EVerLbQWgpijZDVxaxdu4bBNoiPYdwbJFaERPa380B_SEhkyrw3BS1jfPk8gYK54Q
 
  Once again sincerely requesting everyone to contribute to this study. Thank you for all the love and support. Until next time.    
0
0
0
Juice
10 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Write a horror story in two sentences.
Written by Amardeeps in portal Horror & Thriller

A bleeding Jonathan at the sight of a fatal car crash is rushed to an ambulance as a crowd of helpless spectators watch the commotion. Jonathan would receive a second death when the ambulance driver would turn back and say,"It's me Jonathan, Harry, the man you killed in the crash."

7
2
0
Juice
27 reads
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Write a horror story in two sentences.
Written by Amardeeps in portal Horror & Thriller
A bleeding Jonathan at the sight of a fatal car crash is rushed to an ambulance as a crowd of helpless spectators watch the commotion. Jonathan would receive a second death when the ambulance driver would turn back and say,"It's me Jonathan, Harry, the man you killed in the crash."
7
2
0
Juice
27 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Amardeeps in portal Trident Media Group

The Consumerist Manifesto

----------------------CHAPTER I-TO CATCH A TRAIN------------------------------

It's a strange point in the future of human history. Somewhere close to the twenty ffith century. It's all too comfortable now. It's almost repulsive. And with comfort comes a price. No need to channel perseverance or to cultivate satisfaction. It's all right here at our fingertips. Lightning fast subways and trams roam about the networks filled with the dirt and squalor of the daily men and women that go about their lives in a city where it all began. And among them is our main character for the day. He does not have a name.

He chooses to change it each day. Sometimes to suit his tie, some days to suit his favorite energy drink, some days to suit his preferred phone brand. He has forgotten his true name. It's become so simple now. Simply pay a fee at the nearest sub station to an external server and it will change your name and all your references from all existing databases. In the past, if you were to meet his mother, she would tell you that she had named him William Pryce. He's standing with a calloused face and a briefcase containing some rather important contents, crucial to his 'satisfaction' and livelihood. A banner with the words 'Be complacent, Be a consumer' flashes before his eyes at the train line ten feet away. He scoffs his face lightly as the station lights shimmer on the sidewalks against the evening sun. It's not even a real sun, just a large photo emitter that lost its attention a long time ago.

And it seems that William is about to enter the B12 train route that heads all the way to Austenville. It's a six hour ride, not that anyone on the train notices anymore since they're all immersed into their online profiles the entire time.

He takes out a train route map to confirm the train's destination when he's caught back by a service policeman.

"Hold up for a moment, Sir", he says, "I need to inspect your luggage and your bag."

William nervously fidgets at first, then hands him a special name tag with his facial image, "I'm a salesperson, I operate on these routes mostly to sell people the additives."

The policeman stands back and lets him enter as a voice echoed throughout the entire compartment- "Train B12. Currently at Orville. Next destination Austenville."

He scans through the train seats and finds most of them occupied with people glued to their phones and laptops. He decides to head towards the nearest lavatory, brushing past seat handles and looking at the interior magenta decor.

Inside the lavatory, he opens his briefcase and takes out a syringe like apparatus, the size of a gun, and empties two vials named 'carbohydrates' and 'proteins' straight to his veins. His lunch was over. He looked at his face in the lavatory mirror and prepped himself a bit. Dabbing some powder to improve his weak complexion and injecting a wrinkle suppressant to make himself look a bit younger. There was a graffiti symbol of a green thumb behind him on the wall and he looked at it with affirmation. He had chosen this particular lavatory for a reason.

His foot kicked the sink and out came packets filled with syringe vials just like the ones in his briefcase all marked 'Supplements'. He filled them in his briefcase and adjusted his tie.

Then he came out and started to span the corridor. He places the tag on his neck and begins to shout with assertive authority- "SUPPLEMENTS. GET YOUR SUPPLEMENTS. ALL THAT YOU NEED FOR A THREE COURSE MEAL ALL SUMMED UP IN YOUR FAVORITE VIALS.GET YOUR SUPPLEMENTS."

The people on board stop their finger tapping and call William as he distributes the vials and collects money for different sets. One of the women on board asks- "Why didn't you just inform us about these vials on our social media channels like you normally do? Nobody shouts out anymore you know?"

William looked intrepid and continues the same salesman pitch hoping to grab a certain someone's attention. By another hour, the entire train had ordered the vials and William seated himself at the end of the first compartment with a curious gaze strolling the aisle, hoping to see someone. It was his wife, seated a few seats ahead. She had procured a mental visor and an electronic glass and seemed to be talking to her coworkers.

He calls her,"Martha?"

"William. Well isn't this a pleasant surprise. And it's not Martha anymore. I've changed my name you see."

"Is that so? What are you doing on this train? Where are you headed?"

"I've got to buy a new condo in Drex City. How are you holding up?"

William looks at her weak white face. He could remember how beautiful she was even on the day when she divorced him.

"I'm doing fine. Honestly I've had a few revelations as such."

"Really. About what?"

"About how it's all condensed to living in front of a screen now. Nothing seems the way it was like in the past."

"Oh William. We've got all the comfort we need. What's there to cry about the past really. No need to get too nostalgic. Have you been taking your drugs lately?"

"See the thing is....."

Martha goes back to her conversation on the visor and almost loses her focus on William. He felt a little dehumanized. A person no more. He seats himself back at a vacant seat and feels his pant pocket vibrate. It's someone's call. At first he fears picking up, afraid that he'll start browsing again indefinitely and finally picks up.

A muffled voice spoke at the other end.

"Has it been done?", the voice asked.

"The people have their vials. But how did you make them exactly like the ones I sell?"

"All in good time, brother. You said you wanted the ultimate potion right? I'm here in the second compartment. Come meet me."

-------------CHAPTER II-THE MAN WITH THE GREEN THUMB--------------

William walks through the aisle looking at the morose faces to his left and right, busy in their individual satisfactory web searching on visors, or enjoying the vials that they had bought from him. No one's having any conversation of any sort.

He enters the second compartment and notices everyone but one figure repeating the same actions as the inhabitants in the last compartment. The seat next to the figure was empty. He wore a raincoat and dark rimmed glasses with a Texan hat, looking too old for his time. William takes the seat right next to him. It occurred to him that the windows were made of glass and he looked at the works of nature outside as did the figure.

"What's the meaning of all this? And when can I get my potion", asks William.

The man ruffles through his raincoat and takes out a cut out paper slip with the following words written on it-

Last night I invented a new pleasure, and as I was giving it the first trial an angel and a devil came rushing toward my house. They met at my door and fought with each other over my newly created pleasure; the one crying, “It is a sin!”—the other, “It is a virtue!”

"What’s the meaning of all this?", asks William.

The man in the coat spoke out after taking out his sunglasses. His eyes were yellow with a weathered look that gave him the impression of an old homeless vagrant.

"That's a little piece of literature that I was reading a while back", the man says.

"What are you trying to imply?"

"I know you feel slightly nauseous thinking about the way that most people live these days. And you should be. Things have become too comfortable. Mankind kept accepting every new innovation like it was a blessing to be alive. But then again who are we to decide what pleasures are sinful or virtuous."

William flushed his eyes and looks down with a morose face.

"You can't just criticize all that's happening. People are leading better lives. Health, food and security have all improved over the last few decades."

"If you believe in such lies, then why was it that you were searching for fruits on the internet?"

William was mildly shocked.

"Are you a hacker?", he asks.

"Just a person interested in anomalies like you. Tell me though what happened?"

"There's nothing to be done about that. Just give me the potion that you agreed to give and I'll be on my way."

The man slides out a briefcase from under his seat and takes out a black glass beaker sealed with a metallic top. William reaches out to grab it but the man slides it back asking, "First explain to me about the fruits?"

William looked defeated and gave up quite easily.

"How do I know this conversation isn't being recorded. You're not a state police trooper looking out for defectors?", he asks the man.

"Do I look like a cop to you?", the man replies.

"It all began a few weeks ago when I started having dreams about my childhood in Austenville", William looks at the man for a reaction.

"Go on."

"I felt angered and empty knowing all that I've been doing all these years is search for clients to sell the company vials to. The lack of empathy and emotion troubled me for a few days until I realized just how badly the world had changed. People spent their entire time huddled in rooms glued to monochrome screens, communication glasses, talking about stupid internet videos of cats, children and other mundane stuff."

"And then what?", the man asks William's somber face.

"Then the elections came and while I expected the people to make a decision based on personal preferences, there was barely any participation. No one was talking. No one was discussing about the issues at hand. I spent the entire electoral week in his very train distributing vials. People were commenting on social media profiles, buying gadgets online or food. And then a striking revelation hit me. Everything I once loved had turned fake. The waters we drink no longer like the one I remember. The air we breathe possibly more cancerous than a smoker's fumes. And the food. I asked myself when was the last time I actually saw, let alone eat an apple. All the so called 'nourishment' the corporations provide is packed in these stupid vials."

"You felt like a prisoner, didn't you?", the man asked.

"Something was wrong. Suddenly the people I knew didn't seem like people but brainless cowards who had forgotten the true aspects of human life, tied to believe that as long as they have satisfaction, they're enjoying life. And if they're enjoying life, they must be alive and well."

"And what do you believe, William?"

"That they're squandering their lives. That there's some kind of a truth that's being concealed from the public. And for the first time in a long time I wanted things to be the way they were. I started searching for any remaining reserves for fruits but found nothing on the web."

"But I suppose that you didn't just stop there. What did you do next?"

"I went through a few websites online asking for medical help. The doctors on the forums were afraid that I was getting too resentful of consumerism. They prescribed me some pills and videos to watch."

"Did you take any of them?"

"Not really?"

"Why didn't you? You came across something life changing, didn't you?"

William looked at him with suspicious eyes.

"What do you know about all this?"

"I know a lot David. I know that you absorbed the consumerist manifesto posted by our group online and started to question things. More than the usual man, you became inquisitive."

"So can I safely assume that you are...."

"Exactly. I am the man with the green thumb. And while I would hand you your potion. I want to make you a deal. I really hope you are interested."

"What is your group and what have your people been up to? Are you the ones behind the Big Consumer Store leaks?"

The man didn't answer. He simply handed him a plastic bag taken from another coat pocket. It seemed as if he had the entire world inside it.

"What's this?", William opened the bag and inspected the contents. Like a child discovering a new toy he let out a look of marvel and shock which later turned to anger mixed with curiosity.

"These are seeds. SEEDS. We were told that they didn't exist anymore. But that means there must be more", he shouted.

"So tell me William how curious are you to go ahead with this idea of ours. Do I take this to be look of acceptance?"

He sighs at first and then takes a deep big gulp of air and says,"Alright what's the plan?"

-----------------CHAPTER III- CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT-------------------

The train slowed its silent motion and William knew that they were approaching their first stop before reaching Austenville. Some of the train boarders were informed by their visor systems about the destinations and they moved out.

"We have to move out of this train immediately", the man said.

Both William and the man exit the train entering the shanty town of Shropshire. It was a desolate exception on the eastern seaboard being the only region left with enough trees to supply timber to the local industries.

"What exactly is our business here?", asks William.

"You'll see. I hope you understand that the potion you're so keen to use will kill you."

"Maybe that's why I want to use it."

The man kept quite. Their journey continues for another half hour and it appeared as if William was already getting exhausted.

"Long years of sitting around and wasting time on the internet will do that to you", the man quipped.

They arrived at an abandoned mill where the man leads William to a large pilot plant. The sound of mills and machines was eerily running through the entire vicinity.

And as William laid eyes as to what the workers in lab coats inside were doing, he drops his briefcase in a fit of shock.

"WHAT'S ALL THIS?"

There were hoards. Bags of fruits and actual food was being processed and stored in silos.

"Hold yourself William. I would tell you eat but I'm afraid that your stomach has lost its ability to process natural nutrients.

William strolled through the conveyor belts and sampled each of the produce, touching it, smelling it. The workers looked at him with bewilderment.

"So it's all a lie then, isn't it?", he asks the man.

"Wouldn't it seem obvious William. The industries that flourished after the twenty third century involved the works of a charter that made sure that every last nickel the earning man makes is spent on consumer products. First you reel them in with the factor of choice. Give people the hope that whatever is being sold on shelves is as good as new and has all that people need. Even it has no actual nutrients. Then when their bodies begin to deteriorate and decay, sell them the drugs that never kills them but rather prolongs their existence turning them into the profiteer's permanent piggy bank. And deception, use things like comfort, happiness, hope and the internet to malign everyone's train of thought."

"No, no. It can't be. What could the industries ever stand to gain from anything as such."

"They all fill one conglomerate's pockets now William. Competition went out the window a long time ago. And this particular conglomerate that I'm talking about is present everywhere but they act inconspicuously. Do the words Globulous mean anything?"

William dropped the produce and fell to the ground his eyes witnessing floods of images and people he was made to forget. His head started to ache and the man held him by his hand to direct him to a room full of images and mugshots.

"This is you", the man says.

Then when his eyes felt strong again, the man showed him a series of photos and videos

"And like all the million people that you meet each day, your life too wasn't always so dull and bleak"

"Give me the potion, I want to end this now", William shouts.

The man doesn't comply. Instead he asks him to focus his gaze on what he was showing him. There were videos of him being dissected in a hospital among a row of other people undergoing similar procedures.

"Is that me? What are they doing to me?"

"Your mind was processed William. Each week certain people from Globulous seize control of certain salesman like you feeding your mind with chemicals that makes you more subservient to them. Then they tell you to spread the same chemicals in vials to people on crowded transportation channels under the guise of nutrition. If you search through your scalp you'll find the scar caused by any entry port. It's quite elaborate you see."

"NO NO. This can't be happening."

"Get a hold William", he slaps his face, "I need you to understand why you are important to us. With your help we can put this nightmare way past us."

"I don't need to. I'm off the ride. I'm not a pawn in anyone's game anymore", William seizes the potion from the man's pocket and is nearly stopped by him. It falls to the floor and William looks at the wet surface with a hoplesss grin on his face.

"I'm not going to let you kill yourself this way. Do you have any idea how important you are to this entire operation?"

"What operation are you talking about?"

"One of the company's heads will be boarding the train to Austenville at the next stop with an entourage of bodyguards to protect him. Only his processed henchmen like you would be given the permission to enter his compartment where nobody else boards out of security protocols."

William looks at him menacingly,"What do you want me to do?"

"Remember the vials you distributed to the people on the train before. It's actually a thought enhancer that activates people's reasoning abilities. I want you to inject him with the potion while he's there. We extracted that from you after I ran my little experiment with you."

"What experiment?", he asks glibly.

"This isn't the first time we're meeting William. I've made previous attempts at meeting you and instructing you to get rid of this guy", he holds out a photograph of a stout elderly man with a maniacal face,"This is Richard Parker. But everytime we would meet, the plan would go undone because you would be processed again."

"Wait a moment. You mean to tell me that I've been brainwashed before."

"They run it in cycles William"

"And what makes you so sure that I'll be able to do it this time."

"Because this time, you searched for us. We didn't come to you. I see a yearning in you to end this. And we share that feeling. It's either this or death William."

He looked at the photograph and then at the man. He snatched it, remembering the face and keeps the photograph with him.

"Give me another potion sample", he says," I'm going to have a little chat with Mr.Parker at the next station."

"Remember William if you get caught or are questioned, you are not to breathe a word about us."   

"I'll be on my own?"

"Exactly."

He nodded in approval and made his way back to the station.

"I just wanted to ask you William", the man stops him in his way.

"Do you know what the allegory of the cave is William?"He looked at him expecting an answer and then continues.

"If you could imagine a group of people tied to chains inside a cave such that no light enters, all that they would experience would be the shadows cast by the things outside. They would eventually develop ideas as to what those things might be simply by looking at the shadows. Now suppose that a man escapes those chains and his naked eyes touch the world outside for the first time. He would run back in a state of shock and awe and convince the others inside of what he saw only to realize that the chained inside no longer understand him. Either that would encourage them to follow his path and cause them to exclude and vilify him."

"Are you saying that that man is me?"

"I'm saying that you've become enlightened. I hope you don't go astray. Till now only your hunger existed and not you as an entity. Don't go back to that life. Keep curious and stay away from satisfaction and comfort.

William walked away thinking about his words, with the curiosity to find some answers on his own.

-----------CHAPTER IV-AND SATISFACTION BROUGHT IT BACK-----------

The advice retold from a thousand ages.

As repeated by nonchalant sages,

Of how great it is to be content.

Now seems as worthless as a cent.

What is lost shall never return.

But be not quick to anger's turn.

And I ask of why must one agree?

Of all such indignant hapless sprees.

And just forge a smile in acceptance

But still turn blind to life's tenses.

Those with hearts pure and mouths loose,

Judge me for my angered truce.

A truce with a mind so clustered,

That it finds rest not so flustered.

But the failed minds cry of insolence and fate

Some blame their birth or their dates

And some just point towards the stars

And complain that the world sets strange bars.

Here they get bitten by the bug of complacency.

So they twiddle in content and lay back adequacy.

Delusions of grandeur would arrive soon,

And they would be a bane, not a boon.

For those who say they want and desire more,

Keep up ahead in all of life's scores.

And yet I agree that such greed may be wrong,

But so are those who sing satisfied songs.

The shock in a battered man's mind follows him no matter where he goes. And William had just received a powerful dose of outright craziness.

The train would soon start on its journey to Austenville.

William entered the compartment and was questioned by another service policeman who later allowed him to enter. He took his briefcase and then shook his hand.

William could feel there was a crumpled mass inside it. It was a note.

"Take a look at it once you get inside", the service policeman said.

William nodded his head and stepped one foot inside the compartment, than the other as if he was losing control over his limbs.

He took out the note and read the words

"This is Richard Parker. I need to see you immediately."

 

He stepped into his compartment by asking one of the security members.

It was empty space of rows and seats with only a navy blue suited figure enjoying an apple. William realised that he must have assumed that he is still brainwashed.

"Now tell me, have all the vials been distributed?", Richard asked.

"Yes they are."

"You're looking a little strange William, have you been unprocessed?"

He looked at him with rigidity.

William positioned himself close to deny his statement keeping a close watch on any guards nearby.

Then when he had a brief window of opportunity, he slipped the poison into his half bitten apple and some in a cup that contained coffee.

"I know what you've been upto William and I know why you're doing this. Tell me what would it take you to turn it the haters of peace to whom you support right now."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Richard scrammed throught his pockets and found a location tracker. William looked nervously at it.

"But I do. I have with me an offer. I will knock you off unconscious and then send my men behind you once you recover. I need you to point out who the man is behind all this. The tracker suggests that he'll be back."

"And what if I refuse", he grabs a pen placed decoratively on Richard's breast-pocket and aims it for his wrist.

"Don't do that William. We have ways to bring you back that won't be painless. Listen to what I have to offer. These fruits and food might be only available for the elite but do this for me and I'll offer you a life of luxury and comfort. Anything you want, you will receive.

And I'll even let you peek into your life before all this conundrum began. Choose wisely."

William lowered the knife. He could feel the sting of a syringe go right through his neck and the eerie feeling of someone fiddling with his head.

The world seemed to darken with each moment and he could feel his body get limp. He could see men huddle around him and exchange words. Men in lab coats with big machines and gloved hands.  

---------------------------------CHAPTER V-EPILOGUE-------------------------------

"HURRY UP AND BUY A SUPER DELUXE COMBO RIGHT AT BURGERMART"

William wakes up to the sound of other salesman loitering up. A few brief moments of happiness was all that a man wants. And William had received a mental manifestation of that happiness. Maybe the pills the doctors had prescribed were working after all. His eyes felt lurid and low and there was the uncomfortable feeling of dryness on his lips. He quickly gets up and sees that he's still in the train and rushes towards the nearest lavatory.

He begins to inspect his hair and his head to check for any visible spots or scars as if he still believed what he saw in his dreams. There was nothing there. He let out a sigh of relief and then went through his pockets with a note saying-" NO LONGER DO YOU EXIST. ONLY YOUR HUNGER DOES" and a green colored spray can.

He saw there wasn't any graffiti behind him as he had seen in his dreams but felt like the spray can was speaking to his mind and out of curiosity sprayed the mirror in front.

The mirror turned black and when it showed the letters-" The man with the green thumb", he nearly fell down.

He felt highly dumbfounded with what was happening. He thought about the choices he had. On whether he should meet the man with the green thumb or to kill him and gain some perspective on his past life.

There was a note in his pocket from Richard Parker just like the ones in his dream instructing him to name who was 'the man with the green thumb' and report him to the security on the train.

He thought for a few minutes then with calm and concentration he took out the poison and injected it directly to his veins. His puppetmasters wouldn't have anticipated this but for the first time in a long time, William was making his own decisions. He felt at peace away from the revolting consumerism of the world.

There was no need to wait impatiently for the latest phone release, no need to brag about possessions or consume the same bland products day after day.

And then the world felt a bit lighter. Time slowed down and so did his pulse.

He saw a light emerge in front of him as he choked and died. But it wasn't the light signifying death but that of something more sinister.

The other people on the train paid no attention to a dying man, captivated by their gizmos and gadgets.

Death would have seemed like the only release from a fake world, but globulous had found a way to keep even the dead alive and have them function to their every command.

So a few weeks later, the same William walks down the same aisle

distributing the same vials and having the same questions in his heart about the world. But this time strangely, he doesn't search for a way out, nor does he search for flustered people like him. He frequently goes online and checks out the consumerist manifesto, convincing himself that he'll find the courage to act out someday. But he seems so attached to his things that he doesn't want to die anymore and rebel. He just wants to stay and consume, till he can find the happiness that was robbed from him, many years ago.

Thus ends the tale of a curious old being

Who grew only empty at what he was seeing

Held by the hope that his miseries would change

But it was a thought powered by a mind deranged

That could not see or accept what had become

And so the man ventured with his heart numb

And fell into the charms of a world that talked sweet

Told him that happiness was at his nearest corner or street

But he had renounced that sweet gratifying tongue

For he saw his possessions as if they were dung

And his thoughts had grown a bit more small

But his heart still craved for joys quite tall

So he fell again for the words of of a gratified loon

Who promised him a paradise quite so soon

But his mind was wrought with a lot of pain

And he didn't want to continue so insane

So he gulped down a last gulp of death

And lay himself to the earth's cozy bed

Only to be brought back a few quarters later

Told to pursue things not so better or greater

For he fell in love with his things so shallow

And turned his face so happy and mellow

But behind it lingered a demise quite done

Where man plays with possessions for fun

Losing touch of true happiness and will

Spending his entire life paying bills

1
1
0
Juice
101 reads
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Amardeeps in portal Trident Media Group
The Consumerist Manifesto
----------------------CHAPTER I-TO CATCH A TRAIN------------------------------

It's a strange point in the future of human history. Somewhere close to the twenty ffith century. It's all too comfortable now. It's almost repulsive. And with comfort comes a price. No need to channel perseverance or to cultivate satisfaction. It's all right here at our fingertips. Lightning fast subways and trams roam about the networks filled with the dirt and squalor of the daily men and women that go about their lives in a city where it all began. And among them is our main character for the day. He does not have a name.


He chooses to change it each day. Sometimes to suit his tie, some days to suit his favorite energy drink, some days to suit his preferred phone brand. He has forgotten his true name. It's become so simple now. Simply pay a fee at the nearest sub station to an external server and it will change your name and all your references from all existing databases. In the past, if you were to meet his mother, she would tell you that she had named him William Pryce. He's standing with a calloused face and a briefcase containing some rather important contents, crucial to his 'satisfaction' and livelihood. A banner with the words 'Be complacent, Be a consumer' flashes before his eyes at the train line ten feet away. He scoffs his face lightly as the station lights shimmer on the sidewalks against the evening sun. It's not even a real sun, just a large photo emitter that lost its attention a long time ago.

And it seems that William is about to enter the B12 train route that heads all the way to Austenville. It's a six hour ride, not that anyone on the train notices anymore since they're all immersed into their online profiles the entire time.

He takes out a train route map to confirm the train's destination when he's caught back by a service policeman.

"Hold up for a moment, Sir", he says, "I need to inspect your luggage and your bag."

William nervously fidgets at first, then hands him a special name tag with his facial image, "I'm a salesperson, I operate on these routes mostly to sell people the additives."

The policeman stands back and lets him enter as a voice echoed throughout the entire compartment- "Train B12. Currently at Orville. Next destination Austenville."

He scans through the train seats and finds most of them occupied with people glued to their phones and laptops. He decides to head towards the nearest lavatory, brushing past seat handles and looking at the interior magenta decor.

Inside the lavatory, he opens his briefcase and takes out a syringe like apparatus, the size of a gun, and empties two vials named 'carbohydrates' and 'proteins' straight to his veins. His lunch was over. He looked at his face in the lavatory mirror and prepped himself a bit. Dabbing some powder to improve his weak complexion and injecting a wrinkle suppressant to make himself look a bit younger. There was a graffiti symbol of a green thumb behind him on the wall and he looked at it with affirmation. He had chosen this particular lavatory for a reason.

His foot kicked the sink and out came packets filled with syringe vials just like the ones in his briefcase all marked 'Supplements'. He filled them in his briefcase and adjusted his tie.

Then he came out and started to span the corridor. He places the tag on his neck and begins to shout with assertive authority- "SUPPLEMENTS. GET YOUR SUPPLEMENTS. ALL THAT YOU NEED FOR A THREE COURSE MEAL ALL SUMMED UP IN YOUR FAVORITE VIALS.GET YOUR SUPPLEMENTS."


The people on board stop their finger tapping and call William as he distributes the vials and collects money for different sets. One of the women on board asks- "Why didn't you just inform us about these vials on our social media channels like you normally do? Nobody shouts out anymore you know?"

William looked intrepid and continues the same salesman pitch hoping to grab a certain someone's attention. By another hour, the entire train had ordered the vials and William seated himself at the end of the first compartment with a curious gaze strolling the aisle, hoping to see someone. It was his wife, seated a few seats ahead. She had procured a mental visor and an electronic glass and seemed to be talking to her coworkers.

He calls her,"Martha?"

"William. Well isn't this a pleasant surprise. And it's not Martha anymore. I've changed my name you see."

"Is that so? What are you doing on this train? Where are you headed?"

"I've got to buy a new condo in Drex City. How are you holding up?"

William looks at her weak white face. He could remember how beautiful she was even on the day when she divorced him.

"I'm doing fine. Honestly I've had a few revelations as such."

"Really. About what?"

"About how it's all condensed to living in front of a screen now. Nothing seems the way it was like in the past."

"Oh William. We've got all the comfort we need. What's there to cry about the past really. No need to get too nostalgic. Have you been taking your drugs lately?"

"See the thing is....."

Martha goes back to her conversation on the visor and almost loses her focus on William. He felt a little dehumanized. A person no more. He seats himself back at a vacant seat and feels his pant pocket vibrate. It's someone's call. At first he fears picking up, afraid that he'll start browsing again indefinitely and finally picks up.

A muffled voice spoke at the other end.

"Has it been done?", the voice asked.

"The people have their vials. But how did you make them exactly like the ones I sell?"

"All in good time, brother. You said you wanted the ultimate potion right? I'm here in the second compartment. Come meet me."

-------------CHAPTER II-THE MAN WITH THE GREEN THUMB--------------

William walks through the aisle looking at the morose faces to his left and right, busy in their individual satisfactory web searching on visors, or enjoying the vials that they had bought from him. No one's having any conversation of any sort.

He enters the second compartment and notices everyone but one figure repeating the same actions as the inhabitants in the last compartment. The seat next to the figure was empty. He wore a raincoat and dark rimmed glasses with a Texan hat, looking too old for his time. William takes the seat right next to him. It occurred to him that the windows were made of glass and he looked at the works of nature outside as did the figure.

"What's the meaning of all this? And when can I get my potion", asks William.

The man ruffles through his raincoat and takes out a cut out paper slip with the following words written on it-

Last night I invented a new pleasure, and as I was giving it the first trial an angel and a devil came rushing toward my house. They met at my door and fought with each other over my newly created pleasure; the one crying, “It is a sin!”—the other, “It is a virtue!”

"What’s the meaning of all this?", asks William.

The man in the coat spoke out after taking out his sunglasses. His eyes were yellow with a weathered look that gave him the impression of an old homeless vagrant.

"That's a little piece of literature that I was reading a while back", the man says.

"What are you trying to imply?"

"I know you feel slightly nauseous thinking about the way that most people live these days. And you should be. Things have become too comfortable. Mankind kept accepting every new innovation like it was a blessing to be alive. But then again who are we to decide what pleasures are sinful or virtuous."

William flushed his eyes and looks down with a morose face.

"You can't just criticize all that's happening. People are leading better lives. Health, food and security have all improved over the last few decades."

"If you believe in such lies, then why was it that you were searching for fruits on the internet?"

William was mildly shocked.

"Are you a hacker?", he asks.

"Just a person interested in anomalies like you. Tell me though what happened?"

"There's nothing to be done about that. Just give me the potion that you agreed to give and I'll be on my way."

The man slides out a briefcase from under his seat and takes out a black glass beaker sealed with a metallic top. William reaches out to grab it but the man slides it back asking, "First explain to me about the fruits?"

William looked defeated and gave up quite easily.

"How do I know this conversation isn't being recorded. You're not a state police trooper looking out for defectors?", he asks the man.

"Do I look like a cop to you?", the man replies.

"It all began a few weeks ago when I started having dreams about my childhood in Austenville", William looks at the man for a reaction.

"Go on."

"I felt angered and empty knowing all that I've been doing all these years is search for clients to sell the company vials to. The lack of empathy and emotion troubled me for a few days until I realized just how badly the world had changed. People spent their entire time huddled in rooms glued to monochrome screens, communication glasses, talking about stupid internet videos of cats, children and other mundane stuff."

"And then what?", the man asks William's somber face.

"Then the elections came and while I expected the people to make a decision based on personal preferences, there was barely any participation. No one was talking. No one was discussing about the issues at hand. I spent the entire electoral week in his very train distributing vials. People were commenting on social media profiles, buying gadgets online or food. And then a striking revelation hit me. Everything I once loved had turned fake. The waters we drink no longer like the one I remember. The air we breathe possibly more cancerous than a smoker's fumes. And the food. I asked myself when was the last time I actually saw, let alone eat an apple. All the so called 'nourishment' the corporations provide is packed in these stupid vials."

"You felt like a prisoner, didn't you?", the man asked.

"Something was wrong. Suddenly the people I knew didn't seem like people but brainless cowards who had forgotten the true aspects of human life, tied to believe that as long as they have satisfaction, they're enjoying life. And if they're enjoying life, they must be alive and well."

"And what do you believe, William?"

"That they're squandering their lives. That there's some kind of a truth that's being concealed from the public. And for the first time in a long time I wanted things to be the way they were. I started searching for any remaining reserves for fruits but found nothing on the web."

"But I suppose that you didn't just stop there. What did you do next?"

"I went through a few websites online asking for medical help. The doctors on the forums were afraid that I was getting too resentful of consumerism. They prescribed me some pills and videos to watch."

"Did you take any of them?"

"Not really?"

"Why didn't you? You came across something life changing, didn't you?"

William looked at him with suspicious eyes.

"What do you know about all this?"

"I know a lot David. I know that you absorbed the consumerist manifesto posted by our group online and started to question things. More than the usual man, you became inquisitive."

"So can I safely assume that you are...."

"Exactly. I am the man with the green thumb. And while I would hand you your potion. I want to make you a deal. I really hope you are interested."

"What is your group and what have your people been up to? Are you the ones behind the Big Consumer Store leaks?"

The man didn't answer. He simply handed him a plastic bag taken from another coat pocket. It seemed as if he had the entire world inside it.

"What's this?", William opened the bag and inspected the contents. Like a child discovering a new toy he let out a look of marvel and shock which later turned to anger mixed with curiosity.

"These are seeds. SEEDS. We were told that they didn't exist anymore. But that means there must be more", he shouted.

"So tell me William how curious are you to go ahead with this idea of ours. Do I take this to be look of acceptance?"

He sighs at first and then takes a deep big gulp of air and says,"Alright what's the plan?"

-----------------CHAPTER III- CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT-------------------

The train slowed its silent motion and William knew that they were approaching their first stop before reaching Austenville. Some of the train boarders were informed by their visor systems about the destinations and they moved out.

"We have to move out of this train immediately", the man said.

Both William and the man exit the train entering the shanty town of Shropshire. It was a desolate exception on the eastern seaboard being the only region left with enough trees to supply timber to the local industries.

"What exactly is our business here?", asks William.

"You'll see. I hope you understand that the potion you're so keen to use will kill you."

"Maybe that's why I want to use it."

The man kept quite. Their journey continues for another half hour and it appeared as if William was already getting exhausted.

"Long years of sitting around and wasting time on the internet will do that to you", the man quipped.

They arrived at an abandoned mill where the man leads William to a large pilot plant. The sound of mills and machines was eerily running through the entire vicinity.

And as William laid eyes as to what the workers in lab coats inside were doing, he drops his briefcase in a fit of shock.

"WHAT'S ALL THIS?"

There were hoards. Bags of fruits and actual food was being processed and stored in silos.

"Hold yourself William. I would tell you eat but I'm afraid that your stomach has lost its ability to process natural nutrients.

William strolled through the conveyor belts and sampled each of the produce, touching it, smelling it. The workers looked at him with bewilderment.

"So it's all a lie then, isn't it?", he asks the man.

"Wouldn't it seem obvious William. The industries that flourished after the twenty third century involved the works of a charter that made sure that every last nickel the earning man makes is spent on consumer products. First you reel them in with the factor of choice. Give people the hope that whatever is being sold on shelves is as good as new and has all that people need. Even it has no actual nutrients. Then when their bodies begin to deteriorate and decay, sell them the drugs that never kills them but rather prolongs their existence turning them into the profiteer's permanent piggy bank. And deception, use things like comfort, happiness, hope and the internet to malign everyone's train of thought."

"No, no. It can't be. What could the industries ever stand to gain from anything as such."

"They all fill one conglomerate's pockets now William. Competition went out the window a long time ago. And this particular conglomerate that I'm talking about is present everywhere but they act inconspicuously. Do the words Globulous mean anything?"

William dropped the produce and fell to the ground his eyes witnessing floods of images and people he was made to forget. His head started to ache and the man held him by his hand to direct him to a room full of images and mugshots.
"This is you", the man says.
Then when his eyes felt strong again, the man showed him a series of photos and videos
"And like all the million people that you meet each day, your life too wasn't always so dull and bleak"
"Give me the potion, I want to end this now", William shouts.
The man doesn't comply. Instead he asks him to focus his gaze on what he was showing him. There were videos of him being dissected in a hospital among a row of other people undergoing similar procedures.
"Is that me? What are they doing to me?"
"Your mind was processed William. Each week certain people from Globulous seize control of certain salesman like you feeding your mind with chemicals that makes you more subservient to them. Then they tell you to spread the same chemicals in vials to people on crowded transportation channels under the guise of nutrition. If you search through your scalp you'll find the scar caused by any entry port. It's quite elaborate you see."
"NO NO. This can't be happening."
"Get a hold William", he slaps his face, "I need you to understand why you are important to us. With your help we can put this nightmare way past us."
"I don't need to. I'm off the ride. I'm not a pawn in anyone's game anymore", William seizes the potion from the man's pocket and is nearly stopped by him. It falls to the floor and William looks at the wet surface with a hoplesss grin on his face.
"I'm not going to let you kill yourself this way. Do you have any idea how important you are to this entire operation?"
"What operation are you talking about?"
"One of the company's heads will be boarding the train to Austenville at the next stop with an entourage of bodyguards to protect him. Only his processed henchmen like you would be given the permission to enter his compartment where nobody else boards out of security protocols."
William looks at him menacingly,"What do you want me to do?"
"Remember the vials you distributed to the people on the train before. It's actually a thought enhancer that activates people's reasoning abilities. I want you to inject him with the potion while he's there. We extracted that from you after I ran my little experiment with you."
"What experiment?", he asks glibly.
"This isn't the first time we're meeting William. I've made previous attempts at meeting you and instructing you to get rid of this guy", he holds out a photograph of a stout elderly man with a maniacal face,"This is Richard Parker. But everytime we would meet, the plan would go undone because you would be processed again."
"Wait a moment. You mean to tell me that I've been brainwashed before."
"They run it in cycles William"
"And what makes you so sure that I'll be able to do it this time."
"Because this time, you searched for us. We didn't come to you. I see a yearning in you to end this. And we share that feeling. It's either this or death William."
He looked at the photograph and then at the man. He snatched it, remembering the face and keeps the photograph with him.
"Give me another potion sample", he says," I'm going to have a little chat with Mr.Parker at the next station."
"Remember William if you get caught or are questioned, you are not to breathe a word about us."   
"I'll be on my own?"
"Exactly."
He nodded in approval and made his way back to the station.

"I just wanted to ask you William", the man stops him in his way.
"Do you know what the allegory of the cave is William?"He looked at him expecting an answer and then continues.

"If you could imagine a group of people tied to chains inside a cave such that no light enters, all that they would experience would be the shadows cast by the things outside. They would eventually develop ideas as to what those things might be simply by looking at the shadows. Now suppose that a man escapes those chains and his naked eyes touch the world outside for the first time. He would run back in a state of shock and awe and convince the others inside of what he saw only to realize that the chained inside no longer understand him. Either that would encourage them to follow his path and cause them to exclude and vilify him."
"Are you saying that that man is me?"
"I'm saying that you've become enlightened. I hope you don't go astray. Till now only your hunger existed and not you as an entity. Don't go back to that life. Keep curious and stay away from satisfaction and comfort.
William walked away thinking about his words, with the curiosity to find some answers on his own.
-----------CHAPTER IV-AND SATISFACTION BROUGHT IT BACK-----------
The advice retold from a thousand ages.
As repeated by nonchalant sages,
Of how great it is to be content.
Now seems as worthless as a cent.
What is lost shall never return.
But be not quick to anger's turn.
And I ask of why must one agree?
Of all such indignant hapless sprees.
And just forge a smile in acceptance
But still turn blind to life's tenses.
Those with hearts pure and mouths loose,
Judge me for my angered truce.
A truce with a mind so clustered,
That it finds rest not so flustered.
But the failed minds cry of insolence and fate
Some blame their birth or their dates
And some just point towards the stars
And complain that the world sets strange bars.
Here they get bitten by the bug of complacency.
So they twiddle in content and lay back adequacy.
Delusions of grandeur would arrive soon,
And they would be a bane, not a boon.
For those who say they want and desire more,
Keep up ahead in all of life's scores.
And yet I agree that such greed may be wrong,
But so are those who sing satisfied songs.

The shock in a battered man's mind follows him no matter where he goes. And William had just received a powerful dose of outright craziness.
The train would soon start on its journey to Austenville.
William entered the compartment and was questioned by another service policeman who later allowed him to enter. He took his briefcase and then shook his hand.
William could feel there was a crumpled mass inside it. It was a note.
"Take a look at it once you get inside", the service policeman said.
William nodded his head and stepped one foot inside the compartment, than the other as if he was losing control over his limbs.
He took out the note and read the words
"This is Richard Parker. I need to see you immediately."
 
He stepped into his compartment by asking one of the security members.
It was empty space of rows and seats with only a navy blue suited figure enjoying an apple. William realised that he must have assumed that he is still brainwashed.
"Now tell me, have all the vials been distributed?", Richard asked.
"Yes they are."
"You're looking a little strange William, have you been unprocessed?"
He looked at him with rigidity.
William positioned himself close to deny his statement keeping a close watch on any guards nearby.
Then when he had a brief window of opportunity, he slipped the poison into his half bitten apple and some in a cup that contained coffee.
"I know what you've been upto William and I know why you're doing this. Tell me what would it take you to turn it the haters of peace to whom you support right now."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Richard scrammed throught his pockets and found a location tracker. William looked nervously at it.
"But I do. I have with me an offer. I will knock you off unconscious and then send my men behind you once you recover. I need you to point out who the man is behind all this. The tracker suggests that he'll be back."
"And what if I refuse", he grabs a pen placed decoratively on Richard's breast-pocket and aims it for his wrist.
"Don't do that William. We have ways to bring you back that won't be painless. Listen to what I have to offer. These fruits and food might be only available for the elite but do this for me and I'll offer you a life of luxury and comfort. Anything you want, you will receive.
And I'll even let you peek into your life before all this conundrum began. Choose wisely."
William lowered the knife. He could feel the sting of a syringe go right through his neck and the eerie feeling of someone fiddling with his head.
The world seemed to darken with each moment and he could feel his body get limp. He could see men huddle around him and exchange words. Men in lab coats with big machines and gloved hands.  

---------------------------------CHAPTER V-EPILOGUE-------------------------------

"HURRY UP AND BUY A SUPER DELUXE COMBO RIGHT AT BURGERMART"

William wakes up to the sound of other salesman loitering up. A few brief moments of happiness was all that a man wants. And William had received a mental manifestation of that happiness. Maybe the pills the doctors had prescribed were working after all. His eyes felt lurid and low and there was the uncomfortable feeling of dryness on his lips. He quickly gets up and sees that he's still in the train and rushes towards the nearest lavatory.

He begins to inspect his hair and his head to check for any visible spots or scars as if he still believed what he saw in his dreams. There was nothing there. He let out a sigh of relief and then went through his pockets with a note saying-" NO LONGER DO YOU EXIST. ONLY YOUR HUNGER DOES" and a green colored spray can.

He saw there wasn't any graffiti behind him as he had seen in his dreams but felt like the spray can was speaking to his mind and out of curiosity sprayed the mirror in front.

The mirror turned black and when it showed the letters-" The man with the green thumb", he nearly fell down.
He felt highly dumbfounded with what was happening. He thought about the choices he had. On whether he should meet the man with the green thumb or to kill him and gain some perspective on his past life.

There was a note in his pocket from Richard Parker just like the ones in his dream instructing him to name who was 'the man with the green thumb' and report him to the security on the train.
He thought for a few minutes then with calm and concentration he took out the poison and injected it directly to his veins. His puppetmasters wouldn't have anticipated this but for the first time in a long time, William was making his own decisions. He felt at peace away from the revolting consumerism of the world.
There was no need to wait impatiently for the latest phone release, no need to brag about possessions or consume the same bland products day after day.
And then the world felt a bit lighter. Time slowed down and so did his pulse.
He saw a light emerge in front of him as he choked and died. But it wasn't the light signifying death but that of something more sinister.
The other people on the train paid no attention to a dying man, captivated by their gizmos and gadgets.
Death would have seemed like the only release from a fake world, but globulous had found a way to keep even the dead alive and have them function to their every command.
So a few weeks later, the same William walks down the same aisle
distributing the same vials and having the same questions in his heart about the world. But this time strangely, he doesn't search for a way out, nor does he search for flustered people like him. He frequently goes online and checks out the consumerist manifesto, convincing himself that he'll find the courage to act out someday. But he seems so attached to his things that he doesn't want to die anymore and rebel. He just wants to stay and consume, till he can find the happiness that was robbed from him, many years ago.
Thus ends the tale of a curious old being
Who grew only empty at what he was seeing
Held by the hope that his miseries would change
But it was a thought powered by a mind deranged
That could not see or accept what had become
And so the man ventured with his heart numb
And fell into the charms of a world that talked sweet
Told him that happiness was at his nearest corner or street
But he had renounced that sweet gratifying tongue
For he saw his possessions as if they were dung
And his thoughts had grown a bit more small
But his heart still craved for joys quite tall
So he fell again for the words of of a gratified loon
Who promised him a paradise quite so soon
But his mind was wrought with a lot of pain
And he didn't want to continue so insane
So he gulped down a last gulp of death
And lay himself to the earth's cozy bed
Only to be brought back a few quarters later
Told to pursue things not so better or greater
For he fell in love with his things so shallow
And turned his face so happy and mellow
But behind it lingered a demise quite done
Where man plays with possessions for fun
Losing touch of true happiness and will
Spending his entire life paying bills
1
1
0
Juice
101 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Amardeeps

An Evening In China Town

"So what exactly is wrong with you, Mister....", an aged man with a dull brown coat matching the evening sky above the Chicago market station asks a jacketed fellow next to him.

"Oh this, you mean", the man points at his head. "Just an old war time wound".

The aged man opens his coat to reveal a variety of jewelry and watches in deep pockets.

"Interested in anything?" , he says.

"Yes. No......wait yeah I wait", the jacketed fellow fidgets through his pockets with a confused look to search for some pills until a lustrous badge falls out.

The aged man flees the scene once he notices it.

Bruce Spanner, the badge read. It's owner was having a hard time standing straight and seeing right. Maybe the  bruises on his head weren't just war time wounds.

He could feel an impulse being sent from his brain commanding his legs to walk ahead, but there was a delay.   

The market square was full of commotion. People, mostly bachelors adorning trench coats and bowler caps here to have their end of the bargain swimming through the streets silently. Bruce popped out a pill, the last one and joined the crowd with a mindless demeanor, with no idea as to what he was looking for.

Then it occurred to him. His partner. Paul Phillips. A top of the class detective who was gunned down a few days ago. He left him a letter to search for his killer. Why he never gave the letter to the department was beyond him. He took it out of his pocket.

"Dear Bruce", it read. "You ought to know that the jig is up. The Harold Brothers were able to buy out the commissioner. I'm trying to gather as much evidence to build a case against them. If I don't return assume that I'm long gone. The man we're after is Tom 'The Tuna' Siligo who hangs out in Chinatown fish market near the gondola. Take care of Lorna and the kids for me."

There was a murky scent of blood in the air which Bruce assumed to be the stench of meat produce being cut nearby. He headed closely in that direction with the intent to find some answers.

"Peaches", a woman cried out handing them to unsuspecting pedestrians. "Lovely peaches, good Sir. Great for getting up early and strong enough to get through the day", she said handing them to David.

"The last time I had peaches lady, my M...", he stopped in between looking perplexed at the woman. Those words reminded him of his dear Mother who was keen on making her son eat peaches from the tree outside their suburban home when young.

"I'll take two", Bruce took hold of the box in her hand as she scrounged for it to give him the best two.

"How much do I owe you?", he asked

"None dear. I think you need them for that head of yours. Here have this bottle of milk."

Bruce couldn't believe her generosity as he saw her walk away. Suspecting the milk to be poisoned, he hesitated at first, then kept the cold bottle to his head. The transparent glass turned red and he could see tiny bubbles sprout out.

He saw a stone bench placed at the center of the courtyard near which hecklers were busy betting over a rooster fight. He took a seat as the pain began to spread to his spine. He could see the men slam down their shouts but grew slightly deaf with each scream. The evening was soon to die with the acacia trees showing their final cycle of life- shedding away mystically in the night sky.

"Beautiful isn't it", a voice sprang in his ear close by. He looked back and saw a tall, red haired dame of a woman. She held a small umbrella and a handkerchief close to her face concealing what he saw was a small mole. Like a crater on the face of the moon, she was as beautiful.

"I see you're having quite some fun with that", she said pointing to the bottle which was now white as snow with no blood stains.

"Not really. Just have a real raging headache. I'm here looking for someone. Miss?"

"Miss Roberts. I'm here looking for my husband actually."

"I'm afraid I can't help you at the moment Miss Roberts. But I assure you he must be here and near. What does he look like?"

"Well that's the strange thing he looks quite like you only."

Bruce wanted to move away from her to focus on the investigation but was mesmerized by her beauty.

"Is that so? And why did he leave you all here alone?", Bruce inquired.

The woman takes away the bottle from Bruce's hands and applies her handkerchief to his head, clearly showing a lipstick mark.

"He said that he had to discuss some money issues with a certain gentleman named Tom Siligo."

Bruce was now all ears. He could feel his visions get bleaker and bleaker. The pain felt a little sharper to his face.

"Really? You know what? I might just help you find him? Can you give me any noticeable details about his appearance?"

"He's wearing a long brown leather jacket with a crimson tie and a grey hat."

"Got it." Bruce gets up to leave and says," A word of advice Miss, beautiful women like you should think twice about marrying men with a penchant of meddling into the affairs of questionable people."

"And men better ought to know not to bring their wives when carrying out such rituals", she replies back. Bruce looks at her enraged face in some strange fascination until she starts smiling. They both share a laugh.

When he gets up, the world suddenly felt a little lighter. Maybe it was the weather. He begins to chomp on the peaches when suddenly his left leg collapses and he falls. Expecting the woman to help, he turns back and sees that she disappeared. He could feel his eyes getting heavy and the sky getting darker and darker.

Somewhere out there in the market garden there happened to be a doctor who eyes caught Bruce and he rushed to him.

"Let me help you there, fella."

He didn't feel like he needed help but decided to give in eventually. The doctor half dragged half walked Bruce to his clinic at the opposite end of the market.

There inside he treated him with some analgesics and painkillers.

"Feeling better now", he asks Bruce.

"Yes a bit. Thanks for the pills, doc.Listen you wouldn't haves seen a man in a brown jacket walk here or anywhere in the market square."

The doctor laughed, "You're describing half the people here, my good man. And why is this man of any particular importance to you?"

"I'm the lead investigator in a case here to find some answers. You sure you haven't seen anyone with a crimson tie and a grey hat?"

Not that I can recollect.

The rooster fight outside had died down. Bruce looked at the clock on the doctor's wall. It struck fifteen past six. It was getting late. Over the clock he could read with some blurred difficulty the words- 'Memento Mori' written.

The doctor could make out that Bruce was having some difficulty reading and suggested- "Maybe you would be interested in some spectacles, Good  Sir?"

"No not really. My eyes are well balanced. What do those words mean exactly?"

"Why it's Latin."

"Latin for what?", Bruce asks.

"Remember one day that you are going to die."

Bruce looked at the time again and then remembered his duties.

"I must leave. What do I owe you?"

Just as he had asked him about the money, a tall lanky man had entered the premises. He fit the description that Miss Roberts had given him. This could be it. Bruce proceeded to hide behind a cupboard shelf with chemicals and took out his gun. The old doctor just looked away and welcomed Mr.Roberts inside.

"Good Evening. What brings you here, Good Sir", the Doctor welcomed him.

"Was The Tuna here? I need a little something-something for him, if you know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean Sir", the doctor replied.

"The Harolds have called. They want him out. I need that little 'thing' that you've been working on."

"But my good Sir that is only a piece of aconite. What would you possibly want from it?"

Roberts slammed his hands on his desk and let a roar, "Now listen here wiseguy. I don't want any funny business. Get the aconite solution. Don't tempt met to use my anger, you buffoon."

Bruce clutched for his gun but decided to remain silent.

Roberts had lost his temper. He slapped down the Doctor and then ransacked through the cabinet desk to find what he was looking for. He looked around and then drugged the Doctor with chloroform.

Then he locked the main door with key he took from the Doctor's breast pocket.

Bruce shoved down the cupboard to revive the Doctor but accidentally steps on to some unmarked vials with acids and bases. His skin burnt. He knew what Roberts was about to do. Bruce shoots down the lock on the door, and then proceeds down the alleyway where he sees the same singular commotion all over.

His eyes grew weary as he searched for a grey hat for nearly an hour. His heart was racing as fast as ever. Over street animals, buskers, street vendors and homeless people, he saw one couple- a man and a woman with an umbrella.

It was him. They were near the very same gondola that Bruce's partner had described. The man kissed her and whispered something in her ear.        

The woman walked away after which the man proceeded down a narrow passage behind the gondola that led to a totem pole with a hut. Bruce raced through the crowd, he could see Roberts walk down the gravel road and could feel his steps drop down in energy every second. Was he too late?

Tom 'The Tuna' Siligo was a homeless busker. He was outside his hut smoking a shabby pipe with no one around with his face turned to a wall, taking a leak. It was Chinese New year, no one would notice a murder in a small alley.

Bruce fires a shot through the air to steer the crowd away. Roberts hears the shot and so does Tom who eyes Roberts with a gun behind him. Both men wrestle for the gun.

But before he could make it, Tom presses on the gun while he battles for his life. The shot misses Roberts but he decides to finish things in his own way.

He takes out a butterfly knife and tugs it deeply inside Tom running it furiously through his chest. Bruce arrives in the nick of time and points his gun at Roberts, his back against him.

"Why?", Bruce shouts.

Roberts turns around and fires a shot at Bruce, going right through his frontal lobe. But he stuns himself looking at Roberts.

"Paul, it's you?", he looks at Roberts," but but how?"

"Try recollecting Bruce. Try remembering all that happened. The headaches. The peaches. The woman who sold them. Miss Roberts. The doctor. See a connection, Bruce."

The pain was back and so was his mind. The fruit seller. His Mother. The dame. His wife. The doctor. Paul's coroner.

"I'm not in China Town, am I?"

"This is your mind trying to recollect the final events that transpired. Roberts shot you, Bruce. The bullet is still lodged in your brain."

Bruce blinks and the world fades before his eyes as he wakes up and sees Paul's body on the same gravel road under a puddle of blood. His Mother and wife were there holding him. The bullet in his head moved a fatal microscopic distance. It wouldn't give him nightmares anymore. 

       

5
0
4
Juice
62 reads
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Amardeeps
An Evening In China Town
"So what exactly is wrong with you, Mister....", an aged man with a dull brown coat matching the evening sky above the Chicago market station asks a jacketed fellow next to him.
"Oh this, you mean", the man points at his head. "Just an old war time wound".
The aged man opens his coat to reveal a variety of jewelry and watches in deep pockets.
"Interested in anything?" , he says.
"Yes. No......wait yeah I wait", the jacketed fellow fidgets through his pockets with a confused look to search for some pills until a lustrous badge falls out.
The aged man flees the scene once he notices it.
Bruce Spanner, the badge read. It's owner was having a hard time standing straight and seeing right. Maybe the  bruises on his head weren't just war time wounds.
He could feel an impulse being sent from his brain commanding his legs to walk ahead, but there was a delay.   
The market square was full of commotion. People, mostly bachelors adorning trench coats and bowler caps here to have their end of the bargain swimming through the streets silently. Bruce popped out a pill, the last one and joined the crowd with a mindless demeanor, with no idea as to what he was looking for.
Then it occurred to him. His partner. Paul Phillips. A top of the class detective who was gunned down a few days ago. He left him a letter to search for his killer. Why he never gave the letter to the department was beyond him. He took it out of his pocket.

"Dear Bruce", it read. "You ought to know that the jig is up. The Harold Brothers were able to buy out the commissioner. I'm trying to gather as much evidence to build a case against them. If I don't return assume that I'm long gone. The man we're after is Tom 'The Tuna' Siligo who hangs out in Chinatown fish market near the gondola. Take care of Lorna and the kids for me."

There was a murky scent of blood in the air which Bruce assumed to be the stench of meat produce being cut nearby. He headed closely in that direction with the intent to find some answers.
"Peaches", a woman cried out handing them to unsuspecting pedestrians. "Lovely peaches, good Sir. Great for getting up early and strong enough to get through the day", she said handing them to David.
"The last time I had peaches lady, my M...", he stopped in between looking perplexed at the woman. Those words reminded him of his dear Mother who was keen on making her son eat peaches from the tree outside their suburban home when young.
"I'll take two", Bruce took hold of the box in her hand as she scrounged for it to give him the best two.
"How much do I owe you?", he asked
"None dear. I think you need them for that head of yours. Here have this bottle of milk."
Bruce couldn't believe her generosity as he saw her walk away. Suspecting the milk to be poisoned, he hesitated at first, then kept the cold bottle to his head. The transparent glass turned red and he could see tiny bubbles sprout out.
He saw a stone bench placed at the center of the courtyard near which hecklers were busy betting over a rooster fight. He took a seat as the pain began to spread to his spine. He could see the men slam down their shouts but grew slightly deaf with each scream. The evening was soon to die with the acacia trees showing their final cycle of life- shedding away mystically in the night sky.
"Beautiful isn't it", a voice sprang in his ear close by. He looked back and saw a tall, red haired dame of a woman. She held a small umbrella and a handkerchief close to her face concealing what he saw was a small mole. Like a crater on the face of the moon, she was as beautiful.
"I see you're having quite some fun with that", she said pointing to the bottle which was now white as snow with no blood stains.
"Not really. Just have a real raging headache. I'm here looking for someone. Miss?"
"Miss Roberts. I'm here looking for my husband actually."
"I'm afraid I can't help you at the moment Miss Roberts. But I assure you he must be here and near. What does he look like?"
"Well that's the strange thing he looks quite like you only."
Bruce wanted to move away from her to focus on the investigation but was mesmerized by her beauty.
"Is that so? And why did he leave you all here alone?", Bruce inquired.
The woman takes away the bottle from Bruce's hands and applies her handkerchief to his head, clearly showing a lipstick mark.
"He said that he had to discuss some money issues with a certain gentleman named Tom Siligo."
Bruce was now all ears. He could feel his visions get bleaker and bleaker. The pain felt a little sharper to his face.
"Really? You know what? I might just help you find him? Can you give me any noticeable details about his appearance?"
"He's wearing a long brown leather jacket with a crimson tie and a grey hat."
"Got it." Bruce gets up to leave and says," A word of advice Miss, beautiful women like you should think twice about marrying men with a penchant of meddling into the affairs of questionable people."
"And men better ought to know not to bring their wives when carrying out such rituals", she replies back. Bruce looks at her enraged face in some strange fascination until she starts smiling. They both share a laugh.
When he gets up, the world suddenly felt a little lighter. Maybe it was the weather. He begins to chomp on the peaches when suddenly his left leg collapses and he falls. Expecting the woman to help, he turns back and sees that she disappeared. He could feel his eyes getting heavy and the sky getting darker and darker.

Somewhere out there in the market garden there happened to be a doctor who eyes caught Bruce and he rushed to him.
"Let me help you there, fella."
He didn't feel like he needed help but decided to give in eventually. The doctor half dragged half walked Bruce to his clinic at the opposite end of the market.
There inside he treated him with some analgesics and painkillers.
"Feeling better now", he asks Bruce.
"Yes a bit. Thanks for the pills, doc.Listen you wouldn't haves seen a man in a brown jacket walk here or anywhere in the market square."
The doctor laughed, "You're describing half the people here, my good man. And why is this man of any particular importance to you?"
"I'm the lead investigator in a case here to find some answers. You sure you haven't seen anyone with a crimson tie and a grey hat?"
Not that I can recollect.
The rooster fight outside had died down. Bruce looked at the clock on the doctor's wall. It struck fifteen past six. It was getting late. Over the clock he could read with some blurred difficulty the words- 'Memento Mori' written.
The doctor could make out that Bruce was having some difficulty reading and suggested- "Maybe you would be interested in some spectacles, Good  Sir?"
"No not really. My eyes are well balanced. What do those words mean exactly?"
"Why it's Latin."
"Latin for what?", Bruce asks.
"Remember one day that you are going to die."
Bruce looked at the time again and then remembered his duties.
"I must leave. What do I owe you?"
Just as he had asked him about the money, a tall lanky man had entered the premises. He fit the description that Miss Roberts had given him. This could be it. Bruce proceeded to hide behind a cupboard shelf with chemicals and took out his gun. The old doctor just looked away and welcomed Mr.Roberts inside.
"Good Evening. What brings you here, Good Sir", the Doctor welcomed him.
"Was The Tuna here? I need a little something-something for him, if you know what I mean."
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean Sir", the doctor replied.
"The Harolds have called. They want him out. I need that little 'thing' that you've been working on."
"But my good Sir that is only a piece of aconite. What would you possibly want from it?"
Roberts slammed his hands on his desk and let a roar, "Now listen here wiseguy. I don't want any funny business. Get the aconite solution. Don't tempt met to use my anger, you buffoon."
Bruce clutched for his gun but decided to remain silent.
Roberts had lost his temper. He slapped down the Doctor and then ransacked through the cabinet desk to find what he was looking for. He looked around and then drugged the Doctor with chloroform.
Then he locked the main door with key he took from the Doctor's breast pocket.
Bruce shoved down the cupboard to revive the Doctor but accidentally steps on to some unmarked vials with acids and bases. His skin burnt. He knew what Roberts was about to do. Bruce shoots down the lock on the door, and then proceeds down the alleyway where he sees the same singular commotion all over.
His eyes grew weary as he searched for a grey hat for nearly an hour. His heart was racing as fast as ever. Over street animals, buskers, street vendors and homeless people, he saw one couple- a man and a woman with an umbrella.
It was him. They were near the very same gondola that Bruce's partner had described. The man kissed her and whispered something in her ear.        
The woman walked away after which the man proceeded down a narrow passage behind the gondola that led to a totem pole with a hut. Bruce raced through the crowd, he could see Roberts walk down the gravel road and could feel his steps drop down in energy every second. Was he too late?
Tom 'The Tuna' Siligo was a homeless busker. He was outside his hut smoking a shabby pipe with no one around with his face turned to a wall, taking a leak. It was Chinese New year, no one would notice a murder in a small alley.
Bruce fires a shot through the air to steer the crowd away. Roberts hears the shot and so does Tom who eyes Roberts with a gun behind him. Both men wrestle for the gun.
But before he could make it, Tom presses on the gun while he battles for his life. The shot misses Roberts but he decides to finish things in his own way.
He takes out a butterfly knife and tugs it deeply inside Tom running it furiously through his chest. Bruce arrives in the nick of time and points his gun at Roberts, his back against him.
"Why?", Bruce shouts.
Roberts turns around and fires a shot at Bruce, going right through his frontal lobe. But he stuns himself looking at Roberts.
"Paul, it's you?", he looks at Roberts," but but how?"
"Try recollecting Bruce. Try remembering all that happened. The headaches. The peaches. The woman who sold them. Miss Roberts. The doctor. See a connection, Bruce."
The pain was back and so was his mind. The fruit seller. His Mother. The dame. His wife. The doctor. Paul's coroner.
"I'm not in China Town, am I?"
"This is your mind trying to recollect the final events that transpired. Roberts shot you, Bruce. The bullet is still lodged in your brain."
Bruce blinks and the world fades before his eyes as he wakes up and sees Paul's body on the same gravel road under a puddle of blood. His Mother and wife were there holding him. The bullet in his head moved a fatal microscopic distance. It wouldn't give him nightmares anymore. 
       
5
0
4
Juice
62 reads
Load 4 Comments
Login to post comments.
Advertisement  (turn off)
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Amardeeps in portal Micropoetry

Distances

And while the things that I adore seem so close. To them, I seem so far away.

9
0
2
Juice
45 reads
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Amardeeps in portal Micropoetry
Distances
And while the things that I adore seem so close. To them, I seem so far away.
9
0
2
Juice
45 reads
Load 2 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Simon & Schuster is one of the world’s leading publishers and we are always looking for fresh new voices. Write a story, chapter, or essay about whatever you like. The 50 best entries will be announced by Prose and read by our editorial staff for consideration.
Written by Amardeeps in portal Simon & Schuster

A Fallen Man

One moment the banality of life seems so clear and the next moment it’s altered by an unexpected change. This plane was a hulk of steel soaring into the skies like a free bird. Now it’s hurtling dangerously downwards, losing altitude. In a few moments, it’ll be losing its passengers.

Ah the people. Such delightful, colorful faces who go about their lives making short lived relations on a transit flight. Never to say hello or even ask with a fake laugh, “So what do you do for a living? What about your family? Do you think we’re ever going to make out of this doomed plane alive?”

The left wing of the plane banks towards the left and sends a shockwave of shouts and terror across the galley. The pilots and the staff run from section to section, reassuring the passengers that everything’s going to be alright.

But we all know what’s going to happen. There’s a troubled young man seated next to me. He told me about his unruly relationship with his parents. They enrolled him in a college that wasn’t close to his best choices. In the end, he adopted the silent treatment and never answered back to them.

He sits by his seat, nervously fidgeting his phone, thinking whether he should call them one last time or not. Coward.

The woman to my other side, a young starlet somewhere in her mid twenties. She reminds me of a mindless drone who shot away all her happiness just to be alone with something that was never going to make her happy. Kathy Miller, a Yale graduate and a business tycoon. She spent the entire length of the flight coughing down pills to cure God knows what illnesses her job gives her.

Even now you can hear her talk over the phone with people shouting in the background. ”Yes, yes. Cancel all my appointments. I’m afraid there’s something wrong with the plane. Shift the meeting to some other day.”

Kathy seems blind to the fact that she won’t be making business meetings for a real long time now. I nudge her shoulder and ask, ”Why not call your loved ones?”

She just looks at me with a puzzled look as if she was born without a family and says, ”I beg your pardon. Can’t you see that I’m busy here?”

Alright Kathy. I won’t disturb you any longer. Just don’t start agitating like the gentlemen to my left when the thought of your apparent death dawns on you.

The plane just banked to the right and revealed the blue sea right below us. Some of the food trays and the plates roll to the right and injure some passengers. It is almost daytime and while I want to experience one last breath of fresh air, here I am enclosed in a pressurized chamber. The air hostesses are beginning to look timid. Those poor souls couldn’t afford to get into a decent modeling job, so they use their looks to appease to the lowest rung in the service industry. Rude and obnoxious frequent flyers.

I asked one of them while getting a cup of water-“What would you do if you were given the choice to change what you’ve become? Not all journeys have to end the way you expect them to”

She began laughing and a tear rolled up her eyes. “This is my destiny”, she said. The response from the other attendants was more or less the same. These people had lost all control and hope over their lives. What a crying shame?

I’ll be leaving a negative review for this flight if I ever survive this.

In times like these, my mind craves for some serious discussions. I tilt my head to the back and see a man stuffing food down his throat, crying and battling for the last piece of the entrée. At least he’s doing what he loves in his last moments.

The plane returns to its linear orientation and I can feel the oxygen levels depleting. The front is taken up entirely by a family who are praying on their knees. They look like middle class sub-urban folk who met with an unfortunate accident on their first flight. In the mayhem of the moment, it occurs to me that I’m strangely calm throughout the chaos.

Why? Maybe it’s because I’ve grown accustomed to all such tragedies. Never had I felt so anxious while being seated in my doctor’s office. Yesterday, he simply called me for a routine checkup and told me something that was going to change things forever. He showed me an x-ray report pointing towards a large abnormal outgrowth, shrugging his shoulders. He put his hand over my shoulder and said, “I’m sorry. But there’s nothing that can be done.”

So this was it. The end of the line. For the first time in so many years, I was acquainted with how close I was to death. It’s funny how you squander away every moment thinking you’ve got all the time in the world to do what your intends, until death comes knocking. I was living my life like I could always get another one at a bank.

And I realize now, man plays by the rules and follows the journey he thinks life has laid out for him thinking it’s all going to be fine. That as long as he keeps afloat, he’ll get by. There’s no need to rebel, complain or pester yourself by thinking, “What if I started living differently?”

I was no different than many of the other hapless souls on this flight. First in my batch, had a balanced social and family life. I was more or less the family disappointment for years until I landed a job. Material wealth and money are the surest paths to harmony and peace. That’s what I learned. I know it’s not right but as age falls on to a person, a few crooked truths about life brim to the surface.

And being rich was the best way to win people according to me. But now I want to do a lot more. I wanted to start a company, travel the world, rekindle old relations, apologize for my mistakes and take some control for my life. Learn a musical instrument, see a play, and act like a totally free soul.

All through the walk of life you suppress the voices that act out and don’t seem fit. Then you get slapped with a full stop and feel time slipping through your fingers.

The pilots just came out of the cockpit and a screen of smoke follows them. The blank faces on the passengers have suddenly gone awry and panic has started to set in.

It had been years since I had been to my hometown and seeing the ambiguity of my mortality, I needed to have one last visit.

Have you ever had the feeling like you were no longer swimming with control but floating with turbulence. This is what the passengers look like now. All hope seems lost.

I remember the words of a revered priest who once surmised, “Imagine if everything in your life was jotted down in a book and given to you, everything you’ve done, are doing or will do. Would you go through the pages with complacency of what you’ve done? And will you dare to look at the final page and see how the thread of life ends?”

But that’s the thing. Once the pages in life’s books have been filled, erasing and changing those pages is a hurdle that blinds you of the future.

“Life is a linear journey but it has its curves and stops”, the priest pronounced. Those who spent their lives fixing the damages and regrets of the past lose sight of how much time they’re losing.

My ears seem to have become deaf to the cries as we take a deep plunge. I take a notebook and start writing down a last message addressed to the forgotten faces who still had a place in my mind. I see the troubled minds doing the same-making calls, shooting their videos and whatnot.

Man feels the need to leave some legacy to the world no matter how small he might have lived. And when you start comparing those legacies with what others have carved, you feel small and insignificant.

We ignore the signs and threats that surround us. The ones that remind us of where we’re headed and the regrets we’ll cry over once the journey is complete. Right now I’m sharing that journey with a cabin full of people from all walks of life.

They have their joys, prides, victories, failures and unfulfilled wishes. But somewhere on the long road to the end, they too developed a shortsightedness.

My pen stops and I put the paper in my pocket as I try to tell myself there’s always a tomorrow to make amends. Just don’t react when the candle burns at its final length.

11
2
3
Juice
65 reads
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Simon & Schuster is one of the world’s leading publishers and we are always looking for fresh new voices. Write a story, chapter, or essay about whatever you like. The 50 best entries will be announced by Prose and read by our editorial staff for consideration.
Written by Amardeeps in portal Simon & Schuster
A Fallen Man
One moment the banality of life seems so clear and the next moment it’s altered by an unexpected change. This plane was a hulk of steel soaring into the skies like a free bird. Now it’s hurtling dangerously downwards, losing altitude. In a few moments, it’ll be losing its passengers.
Ah the people. Such delightful, colorful faces who go about their lives making short lived relations on a transit flight. Never to say hello or even ask with a fake laugh, “So what do you do for a living? What about your family? Do you think we’re ever going to make out of this doomed plane alive?”
The left wing of the plane banks towards the left and sends a shockwave of shouts and terror across the galley. The pilots and the staff run from section to section, reassuring the passengers that everything’s going to be alright.
But we all know what’s going to happen. There’s a troubled young man seated next to me. He told me about his unruly relationship with his parents. They enrolled him in a college that wasn’t close to his best choices. In the end, he adopted the silent treatment and never answered back to them.
He sits by his seat, nervously fidgeting his phone, thinking whether he should call them one last time or not. Coward.
The woman to my other side, a young starlet somewhere in her mid twenties. She reminds me of a mindless drone who shot away all her happiness just to be alone with something that was never going to make her happy. Kathy Miller, a Yale graduate and a business tycoon. She spent the entire length of the flight coughing down pills to cure God knows what illnesses her job gives her.
Even now you can hear her talk over the phone with people shouting in the background. ”Yes, yes. Cancel all my appointments. I’m afraid there’s something wrong with the plane. Shift the meeting to some other day.”
Kathy seems blind to the fact that she won’t be making business meetings for a real long time now. I nudge her shoulder and ask, ”Why not call your loved ones?”
She just looks at me with a puzzled look as if she was born without a family and says, ”I beg your pardon. Can’t you see that I’m busy here?”
Alright Kathy. I won’t disturb you any longer. Just don’t start agitating like the gentlemen to my left when the thought of your apparent death dawns on you.
The plane just banked to the right and revealed the blue sea right below us. Some of the food trays and the plates roll to the right and injure some passengers. It is almost daytime and while I want to experience one last breath of fresh air, here I am enclosed in a pressurized chamber. The air hostesses are beginning to look timid. Those poor souls couldn’t afford to get into a decent modeling job, so they use their looks to appease to the lowest rung in the service industry. Rude and obnoxious frequent flyers.
I asked one of them while getting a cup of water-“What would you do if you were given the choice to change what you’ve become? Not all journeys have to end the way you expect them to”
She began laughing and a tear rolled up her eyes. “This is my destiny”, she said. The response from the other attendants was more or less the same. These people had lost all control and hope over their lives. What a crying shame?
I’ll be leaving a negative review for this flight if I ever survive this.
In times like these, my mind craves for some serious discussions. I tilt my head to the back and see a man stuffing food down his throat, crying and battling for the last piece of the entrée. At least he’s doing what he loves in his last moments.
The plane returns to its linear orientation and I can feel the oxygen levels depleting. The front is taken up entirely by a family who are praying on their knees. They look like middle class sub-urban folk who met with an unfortunate accident on their first flight. In the mayhem of the moment, it occurs to me that I’m strangely calm throughout the chaos.
Why? Maybe it’s because I’ve grown accustomed to all such tragedies. Never had I felt so anxious while being seated in my doctor’s office. Yesterday, he simply called me for a routine checkup and told me something that was going to change things forever. He showed me an x-ray report pointing towards a large abnormal outgrowth, shrugging his shoulders. He put his hand over my shoulder and said, “I’m sorry. But there’s nothing that can be done.”
So this was it. The end of the line. For the first time in so many years, I was acquainted with how close I was to death. It’s funny how you squander away every moment thinking you’ve got all the time in the world to do what your intends, until death comes knocking. I was living my life like I could always get another one at a bank.
And I realize now, man plays by the rules and follows the journey he thinks life has laid out for him thinking it’s all going to be fine. That as long as he keeps afloat, he’ll get by. There’s no need to rebel, complain or pester yourself by thinking, “What if I started living differently?”
I was no different than many of the other hapless souls on this flight. First in my batch, had a balanced social and family life. I was more or less the family disappointment for years until I landed a job. Material wealth and money are the surest paths to harmony and peace. That’s what I learned. I know it’s not right but as age falls on to a person, a few crooked truths about life brim to the surface.
And being rich was the best way to win people according to me. But now I want to do a lot more. I wanted to start a company, travel the world, rekindle old relations, apologize for my mistakes and take some control for my life. Learn a musical instrument, see a play, and act like a totally free soul.
All through the walk of life you suppress the voices that act out and don’t seem fit. Then you get slapped with a full stop and feel time slipping through your fingers.
The pilots just came out of the cockpit and a screen of smoke follows them. The blank faces on the passengers have suddenly gone awry and panic has started to set in.
It had been years since I had been to my hometown and seeing the ambiguity of my mortality, I needed to have one last visit.
Have you ever had the feeling like you were no longer swimming with control but floating with turbulence. This is what the passengers look like now. All hope seems lost.
I remember the words of a revered priest who once surmised, “Imagine if everything in your life was jotted down in a book and given to you, everything you’ve done, are doing or will do. Would you go through the pages with complacency of what you’ve done? And will you dare to look at the final page and see how the thread of life ends?”
But that’s the thing. Once the pages in life’s books have been filled, erasing and changing those pages is a hurdle that blinds you of the future.
“Life is a linear journey but it has its curves and stops”, the priest pronounced. Those who spent their lives fixing the damages and regrets of the past lose sight of how much time they’re losing.
My ears seem to have become deaf to the cries as we take a deep plunge. I take a notebook and start writing down a last message addressed to the forgotten faces who still had a place in my mind. I see the troubled minds doing the same-making calls, shooting their videos and whatnot.
Man feels the need to leave some legacy to the world no matter how small he might have lived. And when you start comparing those legacies with what others have carved, you feel small and insignificant.
We ignore the signs and threats that surround us. The ones that remind us of where we’re headed and the regrets we’ll cry over once the journey is complete. Right now I’m sharing that journey with a cabin full of people from all walks of life.
They have their joys, prides, victories, failures and unfulfilled wishes. But somewhere on the long road to the end, they too developed a shortsightedness.
My pen stops and I put the paper in my pocket as I try to tell myself there’s always a tomorrow to make amends. Just don’t react when the candle burns at its final length.

11
2
3
Juice
65 reads
Load 3 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Amardeeps

Down And Despondent

Some days are tougher to live with than most

And some truths more bitter than I can boast

But all that puts away these deformed creations

And drops down the melancholic elations

Is the remission of a fright so strangely cold

Of what would things be if weren't so bold

Just slogging away at the corner of our beds

Until the world would confirm to our trends

Wouldn't be a life worth living till the final curtain

All that we would hold and believe would be uncertain

Only by getting up and questioning our written fates

Slamming against the predefined universal rates

Twisting the channels of luck to our desired shape

And stepping outside the comfortable cave

Can a broken soul find some centre of peace here

 Otherwise there's a life ahead to live in total fear

10
1
2
Juice
51 reads
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Amardeeps
Down And Despondent
Some days are tougher to live with than most
And some truths more bitter than I can boast
But all that puts away these deformed creations
And drops down the melancholic elations
Is the remission of a fright so strangely cold
Of what would things be if weren't so bold
Just slogging away at the corner of our beds
Until the world would confirm to our trends
Wouldn't be a life worth living till the final curtain
All that we would hold and believe would be uncertain
Only by getting up and questioning our written fates
Slamming against the predefined universal rates
Twisting the channels of luck to our desired shape
And stepping outside the comfortable cave
Can a broken soul find some centre of peace here
 Otherwise there's a life ahead to live in total fear
10
1
2
Juice
51 reads
Load 2 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
To celebrate the release of my new book, I am inviting you all to participate in a contest. The concept: Explore a person's struggle to come to terms with a strange, sinister, or surreal reality. This is a broad theme to encourage you to be as creative as you choose. Flash and full length stories welcome in horror, fantasy, surreal, or any hybrid genres. The only rule: Prose fiction only. Three winners will be chosen, who will receive 2000, 1000, or 500 coins + a signed copy of my collection.
Written by Amardeeps in portal Fiction

The Rate Of Reality

I knew a man once by the name of money.

Worshipped by all, but quite canny.

He never found people the same,

Respecting some and others he shamed.

Drove the destitute to a wall of bricks.

The sight of the poor would make him sick.

His business was truly all about people and people alone.

And wherever he went, he found people carrying his clones.

But like any modern being full of right and wrong.

His love for the smaller didn’t last long.

Some would bring his unnatural bias to the law,

But they found the jurisdiction under his claw.

Wherever ran the privileged and the elite.

His presence was always at sight.

And when I asked him about the rest of the world,

He dismissed them and called them at his dearth.

Too many, just so many, who annoyed this man.

Always begging for alms, as much as they can.

As the world had grown to its present state.

The truth was the man aged millions of times in haste.

He remembers himself as a boy quite spry and young,

Whose role amongst the people’s the lives remains unsung.

He recites his internal wishes, the ones that are true.

Without a hint of happiness and no sense or clue.

“An idea in my mind thrives,

That when the future shall arrive.

Bringing with itself a wave of predictable turmoil,

One that cannot be controlled or soiled.

People shall look upon their lives.

And question the riches and the chives.

Realise full well there is no good, no bad

But a clear mix of unprovoked circumstance.

Some born in wealth and some born in squalor,

Some born cowards and some taller.

The truth is that you humans are all bound,

Not by sights, thoughts or your sounds.

But by a chaotic system which seems unfair,

Some who cannot forbear and some who can bear.

A prejudice not on colour, place or time.

But whether filling pockets is a crime.

To worship money alone is wrong.

Money, just isn’t happiness, not for long.

But truly look within deep and to your conscience ask,

If it were no object, then how does it really last.

How it brings a frown among those downtrodden,

And brings envy to those who earn solemn.

Why is it that a man who bids farewell and departs,

Prevails in the present, by the size of his pocket and not his heart.

Then do tell me, humankind why does it still exist.

And tops people’s priorities in all lists.

So dear human, money is not just a sole object.

It is a lot more, no matter how people object.

It is a music, written meticulously in cotton and linen song.

Whose tune has enslaved industries, empires and the world for long.

It is a coin with sides of a nation’s future and past,

Which wouldn’t be so bad, if I had let it last.

It is your rate in your time and day.

A rate of your reality, a dream so far away.”

6
0
4
Juice
61 reads
Donate coins to Amardeeps.
Juice
Cancel
To celebrate the release of my new book, I am inviting you all to participate in a contest. The concept: Explore a person's struggle to come to terms with a strange, sinister, or surreal reality. This is a broad theme to encourage you to be as creative as you choose. Flash and full length stories welcome in horror, fantasy, surreal, or any hybrid genres. The only rule: Prose fiction only. Three winners will be chosen, who will receive 2000, 1000, or 500 coins + a signed copy of my collection.
Written by Amardeeps in portal Fiction
The Rate Of Reality
I knew a man once by the name of money.
Worshipped by all, but quite canny.
He never found people the same,
Respecting some and others he shamed.
Drove the destitute to a wall of bricks.
The sight of the poor would make him sick.
His business was truly all about people and people alone.
And wherever he went, he found people carrying his clones.
But like any modern being full of right and wrong.
His love for the smaller didn’t last long.
Some would bring his unnatural bias to the law,
But they found the jurisdiction under his claw.
Wherever ran the privileged and the elite.
His presence was always at sight.
And when I asked him about the rest of the world,
He dismissed them and called them at his dearth.
Too many, just so many, who annoyed this man.
Always begging for alms, as much as they can.
As the world had grown to its present state.
The truth was the man aged millions of times in haste.
He remembers himself as a boy quite spry and young,
Whose role amongst the people’s the lives remains unsung.
He recites his internal wishes, the ones that are true.
Without a hint of happiness and no sense or clue.
“An idea in my mind thrives,
That when the future shall arrive.
Bringing with itself a wave of predictable turmoil,
One that cannot be controlled or soiled.
People shall look upon their lives.
And question the riches and the chives.
Realise full well there is no good, no bad
But a clear mix of unprovoked circumstance.
Some born in wealth and some born in squalor,
Some born cowards and some taller.
The truth is that you humans are all bound,
Not by sights, thoughts or your sounds.
But by a chaotic system which seems unfair,
Some who cannot forbear and some who can bear.
A prejudice not on colour, place or time.
But whether filling pockets is a crime.
To worship money alone is wrong.
Money, just isn’t happiness, not for long.
But truly look within deep and to your conscience ask,
If it were no object, then how does it really last.
How it brings a frown among those downtrodden,
And brings envy to those who earn solemn.
Why is it that a man who bids farewell and departs,
Prevails in the present, by the size of his pocket and not his heart.
Then do tell me, humankind why does it still exist.
And tops people’s priorities in all lists.
So dear human, money is not just a sole object.
It is a lot more, no matter how people object.
It is a music, written meticulously in cotton and linen song.
Whose tune has enslaved industries, empires and the world for long.
It is a coin with sides of a nation’s future and past,
Which wouldn’t be so bad, if I had let it last.
It is your rate in your time and day.
A rate of your reality, a dream so far away.”
6
0
4
Juice
61 reads
Load 4 Comments
Login to post comments.
Advertisement  (turn off)