Just thoughts...

       The sound of squealing tyres and squeaking pedals broke the monotony of the isolated patch of road. Vivian pedalled hard with tears streaking his face. Once again he had an argument with his friends. Ha.. if you could call them friends. Ever since he remembered, Vivian never got along well with any homo sapiens. His mother forever encouraged him to make friends but however hard he may try it would be futile. As the site neared, the familiar calm started to soothe Vivian's aggravated conscience. This place was quite different, something was really weird about this place. Nothing much about the climb but it was at the very edge of the town. An uphill ride on his bicycle took him to the place, a clearing which ended in a cliff overhanging a valley which ran about a mile deep. It was here, Vivian found peace, but today that peace seemed tainted. The place seemed aware of not one but two consciences. This quite startled him, for no one ever came all the way up here...

         The time when you pick up a pen to write, the pen streams yours thoughts and ideas putting them together. The flow of visions and opinions all through such a petty seeming device. The mere pen seems so powerful when all seems lost enough. The medium matters as they say. The journey always matters more than the destination. Hence applying this to the skill of writing, we find similar conclusions. The times when we the so called bookworms end up being cooped with another book, such times cannot be scaled with any parameter whatsoever. The world is so infinitely limitless that nothing can encompass it. Writers have often found a vent tho their innermost of ideas and expressions through writing. It is in fact so blissful to admire a write up. Many times we are supposed to write essays during language papers. It is such a calming feeling when you are satisfied by the writing your pen has produced. Such an emotion cannot be bound even by the mighty words. ...

                                 An emotion unknown to Deep untill that very moment surrounded his auricles and ventricles. The strong feeling to give joy and receive in return. His five minus one senses were enhanced as if by some strange power. As Ron's yelps quietened Deep found his diction and was able to articulate and said, "I can't beleive its you. After all these 3 years finally I get to meet you in flesh and bone." Kaamika's voice answered, "Umm.. yes we finally do meet." Deep fumbled for Ron's leash, "Here, take it" said Kaamika as she handed him the leash. The pair started walking down the street returning to Deep's house. Kaamika strapped her cross satchel and walked at a steady pace. " It was I who was supposed to pick you up and not the other way round. By the way how did you recognise me?" said Deep. Kaamika replied in her sweet voice, " I really don't know. I just saw you sprawling in ...

      Deep rubbed his eyes as he woke to the gentle chime of the alarm clock by his bedside table. His hair askew and sleep still clutching tightly at the ends of his consciousness. Deep gathered his thoughts, organised them and smiled. The smile of pure joy and innocence. The smile which brightened the weary days of many a people. Deep made his way towards the restroom and refreshed himself. His mother called him for the steaming hot breakfast. The aroma of the molten butter on the hot cooked parathas roasted to a finesse enticed him to quicken his pace. As he passed down the stairs he felt the warm glow of the morning sun bathe him in bliss. Everyday Deep would stand at this very step and bask for a while, as if recharging his battery for the day. Today he couldn't spare a moment for it. Today his penfriend was to meet him personally. It had been three years since he had been corresponding with her. Every week Deep would sit with his mother persuading her to write for h...