VisDare: Awash

The sea churned violently, the waves rising almost till the masts now. The rains lashed out heavily drenching everyone of us on board within minutes. The storm peaked, decked out on all its fearful glory.
 The deck hands ran about frantically following the orders shouted out. Wave after wave crashed against the bow of the cargo ship. The ship lurched towards the stern as a strong wave crashed against the bow. Desperate shrieks of the unlucky filled the air as they fell overboard. No help was spared, not when each held on for dear life.  Wave after wave crashed into the ship. The hull started rising out of the water. Bodies, alive and dead started slipping towards the stern. The air filled with shrieks of anguish, screams of agony and prayers for deliverance. The ship tipped to the side. Water started filling the deck. The lower floors were already flooded. The ship would tip or break from the pressure. People now willingly threw themselves overboard, death by getting crushed under the ship or drowning, the choice was theirs. The rain had ceased but the waves didn't relent. Despondency clawed at the hearts of the few survivors barely keeping afloat on the pieces of debris floating around.
And just when all hope seemed lost, land loomed in the distance.

The above post was written for Angela's VisDare prompts. Do visit to know more about it.

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Unforgettable...

The scar on the back of my hand stood out stark white in contrast to the rest of my tanned skin. Over the years many had asked me about the reason for it's presence, especially my girlfriends whose insistence on knowing it had ended many a relationships. And I had kept mum. Why you ask me? That day was very special to me...unforgettable,irreversible.
But now I believe the time has come for me to reveal this secret.
I was six going on seven when it happened. We were all, meaning me , my next door kids who happened to be twins, James and Katherine out playing. In the middle i realized Katy had somehow managed to climb on to the roof. On further examination I discovered the plank Katy had used to climb up. But that's when things started going downhill. Katy started crying saying she couldn't climb down. I, wanting to prove myself and my ahem! manhood, decided to climb up to showcase my bravado and cajole and console her into coming down. But alas, fate had other plans for me! My foot slipped on the way up and the next thing I felt was an unbearable pain in my ankle and the back of my hand. Finally daring to open my eyes, I see a hand with a broken glass shard sticking out of it and bleeding profusely. Of course then i had to be bundled up and taken to a hospital. A couple of tetanus shots, the diagnosis of a broken ankle and a couple of hours at the hospital later, I was sitting comfortably on my bed, the willing victim of pampering.
It was there that Katy  and James came to visit me. James left after playing around with my train set but Katy stayed back. She just stood near my bed silently staring. Finally, she came close to me, whispered a 'thank you', kissed me quickly on the lips and ran away. And that is the story of my scar. That was my first kiss, a moment I'll never forget. Something I cherished too much to share...

What became of it? Nothing... We never talked about it.

Years passed... Now she lives there with a loving husband and a daughter in married bliss.

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VisDare:Beneath

Darkness Calls

Echoed screams dance,symphony of insanity and death.

Darkness smirks, entices even

Tentacles reaching out,beckoning Cimmerian gloom,

A sin to inveigle,its solitary desideratum

An ostentatious facade allures to corrupt the uncorrupt,

The unsullied,the unblemished and the untainted.

Virginal souls who fail to discern,

A veiled beneath.

This was written for Angela's Visdare Prompt-

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Originally I was going to write a story on this picture. It was going to be an old, dilapidated and unoccupied mental asylum haunted by the ghosts of its past residents, where the walls still screamed and told the stories it had been made a witness to of. But as soon as I wrote the first line 'Echoed screams...', it presented itself as a poem. So here is the result! It's a little short, but its what I wanted. So...please leave your comments and suggestions! Thank you, appreciate it!

VisDare:Contemplation

Broken

Knitting....yes knitting helped, helped you keep sane. Click...clack...click...clack...a sound you somehow found soothing. Knitting helped you remember while at the same time keeping a hold on you. You sat there alone, in the theatre, the theatre you were once a part of, a theatre you had grown, a theatre where you learnt passion,joy and to hope. You still remembered the backstage nervous mêlée, the apprehension, the feeling of discovering something new again and again. And as you knitted, you relived it all again. Then when its your turn, you soar, you fly, you dance to a symphony of the heart, pirouttes, fouttes, jets, you relive it all. The exhilaration, the excitement and the feeling of achievement. Click...clack...you relive it all, knitting, sitting their all alone in the theatre, with that wild spark in your eyes. The spark of control barely there, the spark of owning and losing, the spark of insanity glimmering slowly into life. The spark that says you are broken.

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Fighting Memories

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She walked up into the abandoned house, her camera crew following like obedient chicks following the mother hen. By now she was used to them and felt quite oblivious to their presence. She was focused now, on her goal, conquering her ambitions one by one, a woman on a mission. Her heart had been closed to everyone around her since her father had decided that abandoning them, and her, was better than facing the repercussions of his actions. She was determined, strong -willed and independent. Focused. All she had to do was complete this last segment before she could make off for her long holiday in the Indies.
The house she entered was talked about all right. Surrounded by mysteries, said to be haunted (although that was probably a rumour), had a tragic and violet past. Even from the outside she could see the unkempt condition of the house, the abandoned air that surrounded it, rousing a sensation of despair and longing so strong that she had to stop and force herself to regain control on her emotions. She entered first and stopped short. The house was bare, as though the previous inhabitants never wanted to leave proof of them ever having lived there. Frayed and tattered curtains whipped about in the open windows adding to the stagnant and putrid air which gave it an undertone of suppressed depravity. The wooden planked floor rotted,the paint peeled off the walls, but everything was completely bare. Stripped. Naked, for all to see. Blood stained the foot of the staircase, telling a story about its forgotten violent past. They took the necessary shots with her running commentary. Upstairs they did the same. It seemed as though she was on autopilot. She was numb, just doing her duty. They finally entered the last room. It was smaller than the others. But most importantly it was not bare. There, right in the centre of the room stood a wonderland. A child's toy piece, she thought, this must have been a nursery. She didn't want to shoot here. With a grave shake of her head and a few curt words she sent her crew to pack up the equipments. She somehow thought shooting in this place is going to break something, something precious and beloved, something sanctified. She stepped farther into the room. Her hand automatically reached up to touch the arch. She ran her hand along it as though to soothe her own stinging soul. As she did, she thought of her own fathers betrayal, the subsequent pain of bereavement and despair, of love betrayed. She thought about the child that would gave gone through the same. And she felt pity. Pity for the child to face a fate so not unlike her own. Sadness and despair for her own situation mingled and became one with the sorrow she felt for the child. Her eyes glazed and misted over with unshed tears. With a deep breath, she took control. A simple 'no' escaped her parted lips. Squaring her shoulders, with unspoken words and a heavy heart she turned and walked out...out of the room....out of the house...out into the too bright traitorous sunshine.