Showing posts with label The Bitch Challenge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Bitch Challenge. Show all posts

Love

| Posted in , , , , , | Posted on 10:12 PM

3

This following post is a Fiction 55, wherein the post has to be finished in or under 55 words. And this is my very first one! :)

She woke up in the morning, cursing herself, everyday. She couldn't get accustomed to the feeling that engulfed her...

For, the shell of obstinacy that surrounded her, was unbreakable.

But, she was a human after all...
She had feelings too.

Yes, she was in love.
And she hated every minute of it.

                                                                         * * *
[I did it. I finished the Bitch Challenge given to me by Remya Raj. And I ended it with a Fiction 55! Cool! Comment now, wouldn't ya?]

Ten Free Drinks

| Posted in , , , | Posted on 12:27 PM

2

[NOTE: I had to squeeze this one out of me, just like I had to with 'The Alley' To be fairly honest, I dislike this one as much as the last one I wrote, but it was a challenge right? Do tell me how you guys found it, though :P]

   He had been a genius ever since I'd met him in Stanford. He performed well at a majority of classes even though he hardly satisfied the attendance requirements. I'd see him work on and on for hours; while I was wasting my time playing hacky-sack or whatever. He was, to me, always the ideal student - hard-working, attentive, mindful. And yet, he was the ideal friend too.
   We had quite a few dorm-room parties during our Stanford years. We used to call these 'Space Rock Sessions', partly because of our love for the genre of music but wholly because of the repetitive feeling of being in space that we had on combining cigarettes with vodka - We had a full neat drink of Vodka and then we'd smoke a few sticks; and we'd do it again and again, mixing different juices with the Vodka each time. It was just the two of us - and our randomosity. 
   I've forgotten all but one of these Space Rock Sessions, thanks to all the alcohol. 
                                                         * * * 
   Radiohead was playing in the background and I was drinking something that was greenish in colour; it reminded me of grass. Leonard's drink was pink. A random conversation followed.
   'Do you know?' Leonard began thoughtfully.   
   'What?'
   'You know what you're gonna do after you're done with Stan?'
   'I dunno man... probably get a job if I'm lucky enough.. and then get married If i'm lucky enough... and then have kids..'
   'No man! Not that! I mean.. don't you like... have plans?'
   'What plans? You make plans? I laugh at those who do! PLANS SUCK MAN!'
   'Screw you dude. I'm just thinking... what if I don't get into IBM or Dell or HP? What the fuck will I do then?'
   'Dude! Chill! Just get any random 9 to 5 job. As long as you get paid, what the fuck do you need to worry about? I mean, it's not like your parents are gonna be all, 'Oh, son, get outta the freaking house, pay your own bills' and shit. Just chill man. You're a freaking genius. You'll get any job you want. I'm gonna be the one stuck till god-knows-when!'
   'You know what dude? That is what will get you down. Your confidence. You're freaking brilliant too, man. Just stop undermining yourself.'
   'Yeah man whatever... I need another drink'
    I got up to get another drink, but I must've passed out before I could've 'cause that's everything my memory can serve. The next time I had a drink with him was probably a full year after that Space Rock Session.
                                                       * * * 
   A month after campus placements had taken place, he had called me to our favorite nightclub - Regina.
   He was in a seat by the bar. Yet again, his drink was pink.
   'Wassup, man!?' I asked him ecstatically. 
   'Nothing, dude. What happened with the job thing? You got a job yet?'
   'Fuck no man. I'm still searching for 'em bitches. Anyway man, you tell me... how much are they paying you in IBM?'
   'I didn't get the job'
   'Whaaaaaaaaat? You serious? Gimme Dell dude... how much in Dell? You got Dell right?'
   'Nope'
   'The HELL? What happened man?'
   'I dunno... the interviews were pretty good. I dunno why I didn't make the cut.' He didn't sound like he should have while he said it. His voice didn't have the angst nor the sadness that I imagined it would have.
   'What the hell dude?' I said with a slight smirk. He was handling himself surprisingly well. 'Didn't you always wanna have a good job that paid you golden eggs?'
   'Yeah man. Whatever. Screw them.' His cellphone rang. He excused himself and started talking.
   Leonard surprised me. He worked like an ass his years in Stanford, and yet now he was absolutely fine with not having one of the best jobs available. Astonishing indeed.
   As I was sipping my drink at that time, I remembered a story I read when I was a child. It was about a fox and a tree of grapes. The fox wanted to have grapes, so he gave his best shot and jumped up to have a mouthful; and he failed. He tried, and tried, and tried; but yet, he failed. So he convinced himself that the grapes weren't worth his effort and consoled himself saying the grapes were sour. 
   Was Leonard acting like the fox? Did it really not matter to him as much as it should have? Was he working towards achieving sour grapes all this time? Or was he too much in control of himself to show that he cared?
   He kept his phone down and was walking towards me.
   'So, dude... are you really sure you didn't want to be in one of those MNCs? I mean... seriously, man. Think. They're not sour grapes,' I said.
   'What the fuck? Sour grapes?' he asked, baffled. 'Ignoring the last comment, I'll tell you something important about myself. And it might take a while. Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking alright? Okay?'
   'Sure, man. Hit me!' As if an explanation to his foxy behavior was something I wasn't willing to listen.
   'See, man. We all have different minds, right? And I've discovered something about mine. I can't tell you if it's good or bad... it's just what it is.
   'When I was younger, I found out that I could trick my mind into believing things. Not like making it believe bullshit like I can travel back in time, no. I figured that I was contagious. If you were to tell me that this drink that I am drinking now, was pure piss BEFORE I'd started drinking it, trust me I'd have believed you. So I started playing games with my head. That's how I made myself study Physics and Chemistry, man. All that I could read in XIth and XIIth grade was because I'd forced myself to like what I was reading. You think I liked Physics? From the first to the very last day that I'd spent in Stanford I'd believed it was refined horse crap. Doesn't work always, I know, but thankfully it did the trick for me then...'
  'So, basically, you just told me the secret to scoring killer grades... Alright, that is nice. But, you didn't quite tell me what I wanted to know.'
  'Didn't I ask you to shut up? Anyway, if I were to tell you that I'm gonna buy you ten free drinks, how would you feel? There is catch, of course.'
  'I'd tell you I am as ready as I could ever be.'
  'Okay. So, there's this coin, right?' He took out a coin from his pocket. 'I'm gonna toss this coin thrice. What's your call?'
  'Heads!'
  'Okay. If the coin says 'Heads' even once, you get ten free drinks. Okay?'
  'What the hell, OF COURSE IT'S OKAY!'
  He tossed it once. Tails.
  Again. Tails.
  Once more. Tails.
  I stared at him in disbelief.
  'What the fuck just happened?' I retorted. 'Does the coin have 'HEADS'?
  He slid the coin over to me. Holy Mother Of God, it did.
  He started speaking. 'Since you are obviously familiar with the concept of Probability, you'd have thought that the chances of the coins landing a 'Heads' once was obviously around 84%. Right?'
  'Of course, dude. You don't think I failed the Tenth grade do you?
  'Control your sarcasm, ass. In calculating what percentage of chances you had for winning, you had forgotten to account for something else altogether, and that was the most important thing.'
   'What?'
   'Fate. See dude, if you think that doing your bit of the chore is gonna get you everywhere in life, you're quite obviously mistaken. Working hard is important, sure - but at the end of the day, you can't disagree with the fact that you might have something else in store for you. And it's always for your own good. And I'll tell you this - if you have done your part of the cycle, just relax. You know you'll get paid for your hard work. It always pays. So I'm not sad. Not at all'
   'So... what you're saying is... you're not sad at all? You're not sad for wasting 15 hours a day studying what you 'made' yourself like? You're not sad because you're gonna be paid for only a fraction of what you should be paid?'
   He didn't reply at once. He waited for the words to sink in and said, 'See dude, it's like this: If I don't get a job that I wanted - and I'd worked for - it doesn't really matter. I believe I am mature enough to handle rejection and accept my own destiny. I'm gonna be sad, hell yeah, but it's more like getting over a high school relationship. It'll happen eventually. And you know what? Chill. Since you know that you've done your bit, just have a drink and go sleep. If it helps, have a whole load of drinks. But remember to never let it get you, man. That is the important bit.'
   And he finished his drink
   You know how there are times in your lives when you feel you are nothing? Like, on the face of this earth, you're probably one of those undeserving fools who just have everything they want without having worked for it? That's exactly how I felt when Leonard finished. That guy just gave a reasonable explanation to him not being sad, whereas, had I been in his place, I'd have let everything go to hell. And I'd be sitting around being depressed all the time.
   I didn't know how it felt to have worked day and night for something and then having lost it.
   I didn't believe I was mature enough to handle rejection.
   But Leonard...
   Goddamn him.

The Alley...

| Posted in , , , , , | Posted on 10:27 PM

4

August
1987

  Adèle Blanc stared blankly at the man in front of her and speculated what she would do in the next half a minute. She knew she had to act fast, and that time wasn't on her side then. The man grunted and charged towards her. She mustered up all the courage she had and kicked him - in the crotch. He winced, and let out a cry that gave Adèle goosebumps. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

  She knew she had bought herself another few seconds on the clock, but she knew only too well, that it just wouldn't stop ticking.

  She took out her gun.

  Every inch of her shivered as she pulled it out from her waist. The cold steel made her weak. The nerves at the end of her fingers seemed to have died. And the gun: It felt heavy, too much for her to carry. It took her a Herculean effort to be holding it.

  The man was struggling to get up. A puny kick to his crotch wasn't going to stop him, for sure.

  She curled her index finger around the trigger.

  The man got up. He looked at Adèle, his look one of pure disgust, his eyes flashing hatred; his smile diabolical. He saw Adèle standing in front of him, holding a gun. A tiny young girl is going to hurt me now, he thought mockingly. His lips curled into an infernal, hellish smile. Adèle couldn't look at him anymore. She closed her eyes.

  And fired.

  The bullet came tearing out of the gun. The noise was deafening. The recoil was constraining. The bullet had hit him straight in the heart. The man fell on his back, blood spurting from his wound. He took his last breath.

  Adèle didn't realize how fast it had happened. It took a moment for the situation to sink in. Tears formed in her eyes, and she bit her lip to control the sudden outburst of emotion. Her hand was now numb, and she lost sensation of her fingers, her hands, her body. And yet, she was still holding the gun.

  She flung the gun in whichever direction her hands permitted her to. Then, she quietly made her way behind a car, sat down, and started sobbing.

  She never wanted any of this to happen. She always wanted to be a simple girl... living a simple life. The sudden change of events that had taken place in her life were too much for her to handle. She wanted a sedative... a pacifier. She'd never imagined herself doing this. She saw blood all over her hands, she saw sin. She wanted to wash it all away, to forget all of this. She wanted to be innocent again. She wasn't a killer was she? Was she?

  The men who had brought her to do this were now gathering in front of her. The man with the cane, who she assumed was their leader, was standing in the center. He came up to her and offered her his hand. 'Come,' he said. 'You've had your first visitor in hell. We all welcome you.' She didn't want to take his hand, but she was too shaken up to even bother who the man was. 'Remember though,' he added. 'These are the streets. You don't win battles here... you survive them...'

                                                               -x-x-x-

This is the first of three stories that I have been 'Challenged' to write by Remya Raj. They must be different and varied and unrelated to each other. And they cannot be about dating girls or anything. And so my first attempt. [This btw, I might expand on... but exams are starting. That's no reason though, the real reason being I'm lazy :D]