My three-year-old cousin was staring up at the night sky. After a moment, he turned to me and said thoughtfully, “When the dark comes up…it’s dark.“

I asked my five-year-old brother when his birthday was once, and he thought for a moment and then exclaimed, “Octemberary!”

When he was told that wasn‘t a month, he replied in frustration, “Why does that matter? I KNOW I’m still going to be six!”

What you say? Roundtable Wednesday is back already? How could that be??

Well, it be. First Wednesday of every month, and don’t blame Roundtable

just because time has been moving at a rate of speed we never actually consider.

And ye best be aware, I will be coming around to knock on your door

to take part in Roundtable. So, if nothing else, you have been duly warned!

But here we are, a few weeks short of Summer ending and Fall taking center stage.

A time where leaves magically change colors and drift from their limbs

to fall silently to the ground.But I digress. This isn’t about Fall or leaves but our featured Proser, who goes by her name on Prose as Smruti Swarupa. Young, energetic, avid reader and lover of her country’s music and her heritage

Enjoy the read, enjoy here her poem,

though she will tell you, it isn’t a poem.

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Can you shed some light about yourself that other people here can get a feel for who you are?

Hey-yo! This is Smruti Swarupa Mahapatra, 16 years old, hailing from Odisha, India and a Grade 11 student. Always tough, moody, and beautiful. I love doing almost everything. Writing, painting, reading, photography, talking, travelling, dressing up (I dress up over the top even for a walk to buy the grocery, so don’t take this one lightly!), I love everything.

Writer’s write, it’s what we do, but what do you see as your strong point, or motivation to write?

To me, writing means showing a piece of myself. It is like discovering something about myself settled deep inside me. I don’t even know if that makes any sense, but I believe that this is a way I connect to myself as well as people around me. It gives a pace to my emotions and creates a balance and that’s what keeps me motivated to keep writing.

The very first thing you ever wrote, if you remember it, how did it come about?

I belong to a family of writers who have written many great books during their times. This is my paternal family who have pursued it as a side job and I have grown up listening to the stories of theirs narrated by my grandmother. So the very first thing I have ever written is a short story in my mother tongue, Odia when I was some 9 years old. But the stories didn’t felt like me, let me be honest that I don’t have much good ideas when it comes to short stories, so I showed my interest towards the poetry line of my maternal family. I just vaguely remember my first poetry. but I started my journey as a poet after I successfully translated my aunt’s poem, from Odia to English.

Who are your favorite authors and please; give us a few names?

This list is quite long but I am the biggest fan of Shakespeare, Fakir Mohan Senapati, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni and Anuja Chauhan. They are like my all time favourite. Apart from them I also love Amish Tripathi, Sudha Murthy, Mulk Raj Anand, R. K. Narayan, Arundhati Roy, Jhumpa Lahiri, The Bronte Sisters, Lewis Carroll, Jane Austen, Agatha Christie, William Wordsworth, Kavita Kane, Koral Dasgupta, Elif Shafak and Ruskin Bond. Gosh! That’s a lot of names.

Any favorite songs/artists you listen to that set a tone for you when writing?

I have a playlist containing all of my favourite songs from Mohammad Rafi, Kishore Kumar, and Jubin Nautiyal. That is like my road to get into the zone. I especially love songs like Khoya Khoya Chand, Rabba Maine Chand Vekhya, Bheegi Bheegi Raaton Mein, Kora Kagaz, Humein Tumse Pyar Kitna, Raataan Lambiyan, Dil Chahate Ho, Chaudhvin Ka Chand Ho, Jhilmil Sitaron Ka Aangan, etc.

Do you have any literary work on tap for publication, or have you been published?

Oh yeah! I am currently working on an e-novel, ‘The Crowning : A Change In The History’. It will be soon published online in the Dreame platform as soon as I finish signing the contract. And... I am too damn excited for this.

Is there any one particular book you have read you would recommend others to read?

It would definitely be ‘The Palace of Illusions’ by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni. It is a rendition of the Hindu epic ‘Mahabharat’ from the viewpoint of Draupaudi, simply about the viewpoint of a woman living in a patriarchal world. Married to five royal husbands who have been cheated out of their father's kingdom, Panchaali aids their quest to reclaim their birthright, remaining at their side through years of exile and a terrible civil war. But she cannot deny her complicated friendship with the enigmatic Krishna—or her secret attraction to the mysterious man who is her husbands' most dangerous enemy—as she is caught up in the ever-manipulating hands of fate. It’s a complete mixture of politics, drama, responsibilities and what not.

When you aren’t writing, what do you do that pays the bills?

Bills are still being paid from my mama and baba’s pockets. I am about to earn a few from what I write. That’s it. Well, I would love to start working, be independent and all, that is me since childhood. But then again I need to study very much well so that I can get a good job, get a lots of money, travel the world with my parents, friends and of course my grandma and fulfil all the other dreams that would require a hell lot of money. Gosh, I get too much driven in this arena.

What is one thing you do you give your all to?

Completing a story, I have started. I am so very unstable and even more confused where to actually end a story. So that would be the one thing I would give my all to.

Why did you join Prose and how long have you been a Proser?

I joined Prose because my experience in WtW was not too good. Also, when Sammy proposed me to join Prose I went into a deep thought and realised that it is a very good opportunity for me to make some friends who I can talk to without any pressure or need to be too damn perfect. I joined Prose 10 months ago, November 2020. So, I can still be counted as a fresh new member.

When you hear the term “less is more” … what is the first thing that comes to mind?

If I am being completely honest, the first thing that appeared in my mind was blankness. But something just struck me out of nowhere that my mother has once said me that ‘Simplicity is something that makes everything uncomplicated. It makes you effortless, coherent, intelligent, confident and beautiful, all at once’. And I don’t think anything else can fit the less is more definition of mine better than this.

Are there places as far as social media accounts, perhaps your own website you would like Proser’s to be aware of where you can be found?

I actually have two Instagram accounts of mine but that’s it. Nothing more. I go there by @the_areum_ and @lunar_layout02. And yeah, I tend to give names that can stand out a bit.

Favorite hobbies?

My most favourite hobby would be lying in the terrace looking at the sky changing its colors. Apart from that I love going on walks only if I have a companion. I love clicking pictures of myself fully dressed up for no reason. Adding things to the wish list which I am sure I am not going to buy in the nearby future. Over thinking about a romantic scenario which is very much less likely to happen. Pestering my sister, that is a must. Listening stories from my grandma. Feeding the stray dogs. I know these are some weird hobbies, but anyway this is me.

What is the single most thing you like?

I abso-freaking-lutely love talking. The soothing autumn evening in the beach, Mohammad Rafi music in earphone, ice cream in hand and a companion who can talk and walk limitlessly, that is so me. I don’t even have words to express how would I even feel.

What one thing do you really dislike?

I hate isolation. Like I love having my own space but the thought of me being abandoned, that would make me a over thinker in night and a over manipulative person in the day. It is like, if that “oh poor me”, mode turns on I can became a dangerously emotionally unstable person. I have eremophobia, so I definitely hate that.

With Covid surrounding us, what advice would you want to share with people?

In a situation like this, it is normal to feel sad, worried, confused, scared or angry. You should know that you are not alone and should talk to someone you trust. Ask questions, educate yourself and listen to information from reliable sources. Protect yourself physically and also mentally. Take care.

If you could offer up one piece of advice for other writer’s, what would it be?

Don’t ever participate in a rat race. Just because someone else’s progress is better, any particular genre has larger fan base and someone or something is acing the race, that doesn’t mean you have to travel in that same path. Always write something which you are comfortable about or have experienced earlier or have a strong opinion on. As long as you don’t show yourself in that piece of yours, you are not enthusiastic about it but you are anyway writing it for a ton of other answers, it will not feel real let alone impactful. Your art has a meaning and everything meaningful takes time.

Lastly, your favorite quote?

I have two quotes written in my desk; I love those words that much. Those are, “Look into your own heart because who looks outside, dreams but who looks inside, awakes”, by Jane Austen and “It is far better to patiently endure a smart which nobody feels but yourself, than to commit a hasty action whose evil consequences would extend to all connected to you”, by Charlotte Bronte.

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Smruti, I want to thank ye for taking part in Roundtable Wednesday this month.

It has been a pleasure to know a wee bit more about you and your outlook on life.

Now, as with Proser’s past, Smruti, has no idea which of her writings

I will use to focus on as you read. Just keep in mind,

her words will tell you this isn’t a poem.

Don’t ye just love surprises!

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This Isn’t a Poem

I don’t have any poems for you,

for poems aren’t my friends anymore.

My heart is no longer the sanctum of elegy,

my emotions no longer give birth to poesy.

My sentiments no longer takes shape of couch;

life is an unending gloomy evening, with no hope of a new epoch.

Poems are not my mirrors anymore,

for I am as broken as a glass full of fissure.

You are the complexity of my pen.

You aren’t a deceit, knows my pen.

My mind is a morass.

It has divided me into 17 different parts.

With time,

16 of them might turn against me.

But the only part which shall stay resolute,

is the one that belongs only to you.

Paper is the garden and pen is the till,

Still, the flowers in this garden refuse to be metrical.

The flowers don’t ooze gentleness or beauty;

they are not fearful, for they are fiery.

I no longer mold my fervor,

to make them comprehensible.

My emotions are reckless and unashamed,

no longer fearing being arbitrated,

for that what seems to be eternal penchant,

I am afraid it is evanescent.

Why are we here?

Why are we on different ends of a verse?

Why are we stuck here?

This isn’t our home, is it?

My poems have taken new contours,

my words are no longer pleasant but ferocious.

You might try to compose a song out of them,

but I am afraid they hold any rhythm.

I am on a journey to find my true psyche,

still you are the path I take and shelter I pursue.

Our conversations often create dubiety,

leave them, let’s not waste time looking for clarity.

All I can offer you is myself,

although I have already lost myself.

And you aren’t too a stranger to me either,

I am aware, I have never been rather,

but ‘I’ am all I have to offer.

And listen,

this isn’t a poem.

I stare at a canvas filled with a combustion of colours. And I look back at a blank canvas. I slowly ponder. Is the blank canvas invisible? Compared to it’s surroundings filled with colourful and dazzling canvases.

Looking back at me,

myself,

I start to think.

Am I a blank canvas?

Who seems invisible?

____________________________________________________________

There’s a time, when you start to,

reassure.

Am I invisible?

Should I vanish?

I would say so myself, this has occured to me many times. Should you just sit back and have your mind think you’re invisible and you don’t mean anything?

Well, don’t! If you ever feel like this, just remember.

You don’t need anyone out there who doesn’t believe in you. You have yourself. You will always have yourself. So if there’s a time when you start to think you don’t worth anything? Remember that you do worth something, not for anyone else, but for

youself.

You’re born to be brave ❤

Alright, I first thought of returning with an explanation for my frequent disappearances. Then, I thought an apology would be a better idea. But then, I realised that I wanted this post to have a positive tone. So, here we are!

I am not going to explain all the reasons that kept me away because, it's a bit complicated. And the reasons were different almost every other day, so I think it would be a colossal, massive waste of time. But I can assure you that if there was a way, I would have made it here the very next moment. Maybe, I had a way, but I got too caught up, and I am horrible in time management. If I had figured everything out sooner, I would have been here way earlier. This little place is too important for me now.

That's when I thought of a pardon. I owe it to this place. I cannot simply take off, and leave someone else confused. That's not fair. And it's a wrong thing to do. I am really sorry for that. But the more I thought about it, I felt it was worthless. My apologies are worthless. I am afraid I had been using them as more of an excuse rather than a pardon. Maybe, I didn't mean to, but does that change anything? I am sure it doesn't.

But I am sorry. I know I have come off as a disappointment to many of you in more than one occasion during the past few weeks. It wasn't what I wished for, but it was what I had to do. Or at least, that's what I believed so. And I can't run against time and do something different, so I guess the best thing I can do is to apologise. I was an idiot. I am sorry, and I will try not to do this again.

And that's another thing I am going to change now. Every time I use the word 'try' in an assurance, it seems like my mind always opts the weaker alternative. And I think I might have hurt someone with that word, no matter how much I meant and wished for those to come true. I am sorry, buddy. I will not do this again.

Well, it turns out that the post was not as positive as I thought it would be. That's on me. I am sorry about that. I will do my best to return to the always-energetic, way too talkative, mostly silly late teen as soon as I can. Hopefully, from the very next second. Wish me luck (: And slap me in the face if you ever see me do this again. I deserve that!

Lots of love,

Chacko Stephen

#nonfiction

Dundro exercised significantly less caution heading back for Hobbiton. Having not seen a sign of the enemy on his way here, he was confident that the same would be true on the way back. Little did he know how wrong he was.

Dundro had now convinced himself that his plan was in retrospect, far too paranoid. Maybe he had been dreaming things. After all, he did not have any evidence that the Orcs were hunting him specifically, right? Yes, okay, the sword lying amongst Farmer Sandy’s corpse was a giveaway, but that didn’t really say much about their target, didn’t it? And it wasn’t as if regular Orcs, with their dismal intelligence, were even capable of coordinated attacks. Comforted by these thoughts, he marched on.

Meanwhile, a few bushes away, the two Orc scouts had moved into position. Hobbits walk quietly, thereby concealing themselves from detection. That is, detection from regular Orcs and other ‘lesser beings’. But these Orcs were the elite. To their heightened senses Dundro was like a mobile circus to them. They had already been following Dundro since he had first step foot into the cornfield. They stalked him with practised ease, awaiting further instructions from the Albino, though they knew full well that they could slaughter Dundro and recover their precious cargo before he even realised he was dead.

Dundro marched ahead, whistling to himself merrily, pushing aside cornstalks. Suddenly, a pungent smell filled the air. He breathed loudly and the scent wafted down his nostrils. He stopped and frowned. He placed a hand on Sting and drew it. The blade shone electric blue. Immediately, Dundro took in the nature of the suurounding. Without a second thought, he fled, purposefully concealing the sound of his footfall, Sting in his hand.

Meanwhile, the Orc scouts had received the scent. They prowled, and gave chase. There was a silent communication between them. The game was on.

There once was a lady named Pat

Whose hat was made from a cat?

The dogs in the area

Saw nothing as scarier

As Pat with her cat as a hat

If you want to get ahead, get a hat!

©Julian Race 11/07/2021

42 likes, 25 re posts and read 325 times and did not win the challenge! The winner had 8 likes!

From the ages

of twelve to fifteen

I wore somewhere

between

twelve to fifteen bracelets

to cover the bandages

on my left wrist.

Luckily,

and unluckily, I suppose,

that was somewhat

fashionable

for that era.

I was a walking

‘Help Wanted’ poster,

hoping someone

would see beyond

the giggles and

hyperactive tendencies.

Looking back,

the public school system

requiring tetanus shots

is probably what

saved my life.

the payphone dial tone

the click of slippers

that are soft coughs

on waxed floors

near hospital windows

where people are cured

but not like you

not the inbetween

where sickness still

lingers long after

the IV drip

releases it’s last gasp

the cry of the depressed

For over 55 years, I have delved, looked into, wondered and written about many things. From a birth to death, from love to hate, sadness to joy, and all points that intersect.

I have written so much, offered up advice to other writer's on how to publish, how to better their own writing, while all during this time, I kept my own writing, so to speak in the background, and for the longest time, unwilling to put myself out there for the world to see, other than here on Prose.

Today, that all comes to a screeching halt.

I have now officially put one of my collections of poetry on a website that distributes to several store fronts for sale. Scattered Thoughts, although it isn't the same Scattered Thoughts I am doing here (I have three Scattered Thoughts collections, hopefully that will take care of any confusion).

I have to give kudo's to a couple people, one being TW, for telling me about D2D (Draft to Digital). The site is easy to navigate and my collection, withiin less than 24 hours was listed with five store fronts. And will more than likely have more added by days end, and the days ahead.

Two others, Voidkin_Killer (who did the design cover for all the Scattered Thoughts and EstherFlowers1 for her contribution ... I couldn't have done this without your help.

So now, it's official, after probably writing a billion or more words in my lifetime (that's just a guess, don't take me literally), I can now say I am a published author.

Over the course of the next three months, I will put up the remaining Scattered Thoughts, as well as a collection of short stories and the first book of my Evil Series. From there it will vary as to what I will submit and when.

It's a good feeling and now comes my shameless plug.

If you like what I write, then I am sure you will like what is in this collection. It's only $2.99. This is the link and right now you have several options with whch store front to purchase from. That can all be found here: https://books2read.com/u/bpzXMk

So I say to all of you writer's and poet's, if you have ever had the thought to make a dream you have come true, this is one of those times when you can finally crosss that threshold and make it a reality. This link can change your life, or at least get you started in the direction you have privately thought about. https://www.draft2digital.com/

And while writing this two more store fronts have been added.

Life suddenly became better.

For you if you can grasp hold of form in all you now focus upon.

As for my mind, I abhor original words said in a blur of chronology.

In as such, I now say my final days on company grounds on grounds of your unmindful and highly barbarous fallacy, aiming at my job is a major discord.

As bland as I can in words: I am fini with your puzzling ambiguous logic.

I am abandoning my job.