5MinutesBreak, BlogARhythm

Lord of the Files – #BarAThon

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The day had arrived when an event of celebration was rife with nervousness. A constant hum buzzed through the grand hall and large grounds where the event was planned.

The blast of trumpets put a stop to the murmurings. The royal fleet marched down the aisle. They cheered as their King passed them, waving at them, his warm smile a wee bit smaller than usual. It set the off the nervous rambling again which clashed with the simultaneous cheering.

All was silence when the King came to the pulpit.

“Today is a day that will mark a new beginning.” he started amid roaring cheers.

He raised his hand and silence descended once more.

“We have prided ourselves in maintaining discipline, decorum, and immense value among ourselves and in our duties. We have ensured that we be of complete service and humble dedication to provide ease and comfort to our masters.”

He paused, and the crowd caught their breaths as one.

“This is why today we select a new member to rule one of the most challenging duties of our kingdom. We have here, in this box, the names of all our loyal, skillful, and brave young men of our nation!”

A thunder of cheers boomed through the air.

“I will draw a piece, and the name on the piece will determine who attains this legendary post.”

A hush smothered the air as the King took his time in tossing and turning the pieces over in the box.

Who would it be? Who would be the lucky one?

At long last the King pulled out a piece. He held it at an arms length, lengthening the suspense, a sly smile on his face as he watched the tension rising. He opened it, smiling all the while and then… stood dumbstruck.

The crowd waited with bated breath. What was taking the King so long? Whose name was on that piece.

“No, it can’t be” said the King falteringly.

“Dammit” the King whispered.

Dammit? Dammit? The crowd echoed the King. Confusion reigned.

“Dammit?” called out the King.

Dammit, the local prankster, suspected by many to be mentally unhinged, hid behind the hulking crowd before him but someone had spotted him and clouted his back, pushing him forward.

“He’s here!” they shouted.

The crowd pushed him along and up the dais.

“How did your name come to be here?” enquired the King.

Dammit who was quaking all this while, suddenly stood tall and straight, looked the King right in the eye and said simply, “Put it as a joke, of course.”

The King angered by his impetuosity proclaimed, “So be it Dammit, you will be a joke and your name will be a curse. You shall live with it all your life.”

Turning to the crowd the King said, “I give you, Dammit, the Lord of the Files.”

Jeers speared around as boos resounded throughout.

Dammit stood untouched by the gibes, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What happened next grandma?” Eve asked.

“Well my dear, to this day, files are mysteriously misplaced, papers from files go missing, they are never in the order that they were previously kept it, and you can never find one when you really need it. Which is when we mostly exclaim the Lord’s name ‘Dammit’” said grandma.

“The Lord of the Files defied every element that his kingdom stood for. The other Lords, Lord of Pens, Lord of Paper, Lord of Stapler tried in vain to knock some sense into him. He just did his own thing and so was alone and friendless forever.”

“Poor Lord of the Files, if only someone loved and understood him.” Eve said with a yawn, her eyes closing, dreaming about the Lord of the Files sitting atop all the files of the world and messing with them, a cheeky smile on his face.

“I’ll be your friend Lord of the Files” she said before finally drifting off to sleep.

 

This post has been written for the fortnight long #BarAThon challenge organized by Blog-A-Rhythm.

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Cheers,

 

Venice 🙂

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5MinutesBreak, BlogARhythm, Humour, Story

Ice and Men – #BarAThon

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If you saw us right now, you would think we were lunatics escaped from a high-secure asylum.

And why not?

With ridiculous gestures, manic expressions on our faces and in varying poises, we looked every bit ready for someone to strait-jacket us.

You’re probably wondering what the hell I am drawling about. Well it all started with Burpy Ben claiming that he knew a fella who could hold 10 ice cubes in his mouth for a minute.

We rubbished and called it a blasted lie equal to the theory of crop circles made by aliens. Like, why would aliens even ASSUME that we morons were intelligent enough to decipher their agri-artistic codes? Absolute tosh we said.

Burpy Ben unfortunately didn’t see it as we did, he never does, and proceeded to bet that he would prove it to us by doing it himself.

We strongly objected as it would be a waste of the ice cubes in his mouth rather than in our glasses of rich whiskey.

Burpy Ben steam-rollered us and started stuffing his wide oral cavity with ice cubes. He always had to have it his way, the dratted old bumblehead. Continue reading

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The Fault in Our Stares – BarAThon

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The town of Ghoor stared out hungrily at the vast dry land spread before it. It was once a haven for adventurers who tested their endurance against the desert. Their mission was conquered only once they completed the arduous journey and rang the town’s entrance bell.

A grand welcome awaited the adventurers. The people of Ghoor were generous and kind of heart. A feast was spread, entertainment reigned, and the celebrations were alive till the break of dawn.

Shaped in a rounded rectangle, Ghoor was a pretty oasis in the midst of a baked land. Their shrine was a natural well which stood in the town square. Why a well? There’s a story behind it, but of course.

The legend around the origin of the town was that Ira Mud (pronounced moodh) was an outcast from Naafa. What he was outcast for, no one knew for sure. Some said he was a thief, another said he was a murderer, and yet another claimed that he was an illegitimate child.

Alone and directionless too, Ira Mud had bravely put one foot in front of the other as he traversed the scorching desert. His eyes were on fire, but he challenged the elements and looked on unblinkingly at the horizon which always seemed farther away with each step forward.

Without water and food for over three days, he was near to his end. In bitter frustration and rage, he vented out to the silent desert. Burning tears of anger mixed with despair poured down and wet the barren, hard floor on which he rest.

His tears had magic, says one of the town people. Ira Mud’s passionate tears opened up the ground and water gushed a mile high over him. Whatever his past sins were, were cleansed with that pure, divine water from the bowels of Mother Earth.

“Not completely” butts in another town person.

Ira had challenged the desert, the first true adventurer over it, and had won. The desert was livid at this.

“The desert was a sore loser”, piped up a little Ghoor boy.

The elders shushed him.

The desert took its revenge against Ira, they whispered.

“What did it do?” I asked amused.

“When you look at us, you can see the desert’s revenge.”

I looked at them and understood. I understood why I had been feeling unsettled when I had entered the town. I realized why I felt a peculiar oddness when I conversed with the town people. How come I had never noticed it before?

I looked at them, blinking to keep the fierce sun’s light out of my eyes. I looked at them and they stared back at me, unblinking.

“The fault in our stares” said the chief sadly, “has driven people away from us.”

“Our eyes always stare out at the desert, hoping that people will return, and not avoid us.” chirped a tiny girl.

“I’ll come back,” I said, scooping her in my arms, “I promise. The fault is not in your stares, but in the people who do not understand you.”

Her grateful hug was the most valuable reward I have ever received.

When I was back in the city, I had brought along with me a vital piece of information. I found that Ira Mud was driven out because his people believed he was cursed. But no one would say what curse he carried.

P.S: This is not the end. Ira Mud’s story will continue next week.

P.P.S: This is the first time I’m participating in the fortnight long #BarAThon organized by Blog-A-Rhythm. Hoping to get back my blogging mojo with this activity.

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Cheers,

Venice 🙂

PC

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