I’m alive. And breathing. And I had a very nice week-long vacation.
I had a lot of fun, and wrote a good seven chapters of Yours, Truly— which is coming out amazingly well, not to toot my horn 😉
I finished reading the Mediator series, and I don’t know what I’m going to do now that I don’t have any pending books left. And guess what? I’m the coordinator of the annual function in school (which is really big for me). We haven’t decided on the theme yet, but I really hope to get somewhere by next week.
Haven’t got that much to say today, so I’ll post a tiny excerpt from Yours, Truly. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I love writing it. Here goes :
‘Scarlet, when do you plan to throw those flowers away? They stink!’ Vera, my younger sister, complained when she picked up the mess that was once a bouquet of roses, but now looked like messy and smelly stuff.
‘Hey, put that down! They’re not that bad.’ I tried to reason, but she looked at me with a crossed expression. It really did smell awful. Vera picked up the flowers and chucked the putrid roses out. The night air swirled inside the room.
It was the mid of May, and the weather was pleasant outside; or maybe it was just the heartwarming thought of summer vacations approaching that made it so likable.
Vera lingered here and there for a while, and then hopped downstairs for coffee.
I sat down at my table to finish the project report I was supposed to submit next week. Moreover, please do not think I was some nerd who played ‘Book Cricket’ in lunchtime or dismember caterpillars in Biology class.
It was just that I couldn’t find anything else to do, as simple as that.
Well, I sat there writing about the Great Depression during Hitler’s reign, while the cold air churned relentlessly inside the room. I typed and typed, until the people in Germany got a better grip of their lives, and started living happily again; or less dramatically, until my project was finished.
I wrapped up everything, and went to sit beside the window. My bed was placed in close proximity with the windowpane, so that I could enjoy the weather without the trouble of getting up. I stood there, feeling the breeze on my face with my eyes closed.
It was amazing, and felt like I couldn’t do anything better at that point. But sadly, my friends had found something superlative.
My friends, you should know, were the craziest people in the city. Stacey, Rebecca, Arthur, Claire, Jason and Ryan were the few and most special out of them. I knew and loved almost everyone, with the exception of Racquelle Stanley.
Stacey and Arthur were the ones I’d known the longest, since five years of age, and apparently, my best friends. Claire was another antique piece I had stumbled upon, owing to my outrageous luck.
Rebecca was a complete item, so to say. She was the drama-queen; theatrical expressions, heavy-duty dialogues, and things of that sort were a part of her charm.
Jason was the ‘gentleman’ of the lot. He was a fun person to be with, but also exceptionally well-mannered. Jase and I had spent hours and hours together– if Arthur and Stacey had any sort of competition at all, it had to be Jason Parker.
Ryan was very capable of turning my mood upside-down.
My phone dinged impatiently. It was a text message from Ryan.
Get here now. In case you forgot my address, Stacey is standing at your doorstep to kidnap you. Hustle.
I looked down from the window, and Stacey waved at me. I motioned her to wait, put on my jacket, and rushed downstairs. Mom – who was busy working on school papers -looked up at me with enquiring eyes.
‘Where to?’ she asked me. ‘To Ryan’s—I’ll be back by ten-thirty.’ I told her while opening the door, and she approved. My mother trusted each one of my friends, mainly because we’d known each other for very long.
I rushed outside, and hugged Stacey. Ryan lived three lanes away, so we started on foot.
‘Did you forget about the party?’ Stacey asked me, and I could easily make out she was annoyed. My bad timings were a thorn in her side, and pretty much everyone else’s.
‘Nope, I just got busy.’ I answered, keeping my eyes straight ahead.
‘Yeah right; and I’m guessing it ought to involve a certain week last summer?’ she nudged me, almost toppling me over, and I giggled.
‘God you are a freaking tomato! Look at those cheeks!’ she exclaimed, and I covered my face with my hands. I had this really embarrassing habit of turning red in the face when the topic of last summer came up, and it only grew headier with each passing day.
Do let me know if you care to know what happens to these people. I promise to live up to your expectations.