Hello Deer. Meet Headlights.

Why do I write? Or make memes? Or create painstaking hyper-fictitious stories out of my myriad action figures? Or ridicule incompetence in its various forms? Why do I write?

Whenever I see a blank paper (digital or real), a bottle of ink somewhere in the recesses of my head topples and the manic urge takes over - an urge to transliterate all of that onto this waiting sheet.

The result surprises me. It’s sort of like being possessed for those few (or not) minutes and then, standing back and admiring that incongruous piece of art in a post-modern museum.

Blank papers are what you make of them. Some will say they’re all about the potential; others will quip about the deep implications they have on our thoughts and how they’re really mirrors to the subconscious, yada yada.

To me, that paper is a window. To me. Like a deer that strays onto the highway. Waiting to be hit by a rush. And the impending release.

Lost. Sight. Labyrinth.

Lost (August 15)

It was somewhere behind the ketchup bottles and mixer grinder, probably closer to the knife set, soup spoons and the special ‘guest’ tumblers. Though, she could’ve sworn she last saw it in her cupboard drawer, close to her wedding bangles and meagre life savings.

Truth is, her talents were decimated the day she married him.

Sight (August 16)

"The rain monster messed the roads last night. Oh Mr. Whistle Blower is irritated again. What’s that awful smell? Ewww, bad choice of perfume lady! Whoa! Nice spoiler. Urgh. Someone didn’t wash their feet this morning."

As the light turned green, Rex’s scattered attention simultaneously converged to the zebra crossing ahead and the wheelchair behind.

Labyrinth (August 20)

The incredibly enticing aroma continued to flirt with Larry. Like a poltergeist set on teasing him, it evaded him on every turn.
He stared into the new pathway. Surely this was it. Alas! Another dead-end. His anxiety turned into desperation.

Taking pity, the scientist lifted him by his tail and united him with the cheddar.

Take 2

The poisonous words coalesced and floated ahead. Their coarse exterior made them loaded and primed to damage. Twisting and turning, they swiftly approached their destination.

On doing so, they shattered into a million malicious particles and dispersed into every corridor and hallway they could find.

Who would've thought an insult could lead to brain cancer?

Hedonism. Consequences. Escape.

Hedonism (August 9)

He shut the blinds, drenched the towel and tightly wrapped it around his neck.
He brandished the rusty butter knife and licked its end. It shone a muted red from the zero watt bulb overhead. He took a deep breath and smiled into the mirror.
Reopening the stab wound took him to his preferred dimension.

Consequences (August 10)  

Every dawn, he takes a shower and prays to the deity near the kitchen’s switchboard.

He then visits the local shrine and appeases his gods for long hours. As a pre-pubescent teenager, he had sworn lifelong commitment to his religion.

The concrete block that killed him was accidentally dropped by an atheist 8 floors away.

Escape (August 13) 

Two floors down, he felt free. Three later, freedom gave way to panic. He was immediately filled with regret and began yelling into the thick air. Five floors later, he tried to find balance amidst terror, the air now deafening.

As he safely bounced into the thermocol heap, courtesy a passing truck, he breathed again.