Blahsphemy

I am still short by one story, cried the Oracle. Will you imagine it in your head, he asked. It was the same for me replied the traveller. But now in my story I have an Oracle who doesn't have a story.   

Here comes another one she shouted. He ducked instinctively. He was surprised that the bullet found its mark in spite of that. That's when he saw that his assassin was a midget.    

Suddenly there was silence. It was as if the world was shocked to hear the words that came out of his mouth. He was awed for a minute. Then he realised that what he had screamed was the word 'silence'.  

The first story was easy. He wrote about himself. Everyone praised him for his story. The trick was to not let anyone know that it was his story. So in the story he grew muscles and slew the villain. Everyday he longed to be him in his story. 

You have only three GB left in your brain. Please delete some old memories or face brain freeze. The words blinked before his eyes as he stepped on the elevator to Suburbia. A new life awaited him in Suburbia. For that he wanted all the old memories. I will erase them in parts as and when the need arises. No one knew why he is ignorant of something he was deemed as an expert once.      

The day had ended on a sour note. He cursed the grapes and threw away the rest. 

The excuses are back. They were on holiday till yesterday. He was missing them. But now that they are back, he was much relaxed. He knew that they will be there when he goofs up.  

Learn to let go everything Nothing is dear when that's not yours    Like these words on paper

On a dark sunny day the cock crowed thrice. It's time to sleep thought the dreamer. He got out of his bed and set the alarm. Suddenly the earth shook as if it was waking up from a dream. It's the beginning of the end, thought he. 

Wake up, the alarm cries Another dream lay shattered by the bed   Careful, don't prick your conscience 

The thermostat was set to max. Yet the cold crept in like an unwanted guest. Maybe I am sad that's why I am feeling cold, he thought. Why are you sad, a voice boomed. He was startled. It was snowing outside and there was no one in his lonely log hut in the middle of nowhere. Where did the voice come from? He panicked. Was I going mad? Or is my imagination playing tricks with me? The the voice spoke again, it's me you idiot. You had called me on FaceTime. 

Wish I had a rich dad. Then I wouldn't be waiting for this damn train. Then I wouldn't even be working here in this godforsaken town. He rambled on without noticing that the last train to his hometown has left. Now he wished he had paid more attention to the announcements over the public address system regarding trains.    

It's a maggot that has been feeding on your putrid thoughts, commented the doctor. The only way to kill it is to starve it. You will have to think only good thoughts. But doctor, these are the thoughts that give me joy, answered the patient. 

Away on a cloud my dream rests.  Like a dewdrop on a blade of grass. Shining myriad hues of life while I am asleep. 

Seduction wrapped in silk Kimonos Resistance is futile they seemed to whisper   Meaningless words thought the monk