I stood backstage listening to my heartbeat’s crescendo. It was my first time. I watched her prepare herself; sneaking glances at the mirror, checking her makeup, and adjusting her bracelet. She seemed calm, panicking only when an assistant informed that he’d misplaced her headdress.

I looked at my sister. I had watched her growth since our parents died. She was three then. I, ten. An artist now, she was about to perform live, and I saw no nervousness.

She walked into thunderous applause. I stole a peek through the curtains–everything blurred.

I remembered. I had forgotten my spectacles at home.

Heard Unhearing

The stadium overflowed with anticipation. Benjamin had eyes for none except the piano in the centre. His piano. On it, he was home more than at his own home.

He looked at the keys, sensing how the cold keys would warm up as he played. The wooden body shone bright and welcoming.

He sat and a breathed deep. One moment, his hands hovered but the next, the music took over. His fingers waltzed on white and black keys alike, never discriminating.

He sat impassive, mind guiding his fingers. He couldn’t hear the applause. Or the sound of his own music.

Making People

I felt god-like.

I injected emotions and stamina into nothingness to create Ben. I had complete control. I could twist his arm and his fate anyway I wanted. His life relied on my mood swings and caffeine intake. It was a responsibility I took light, though shouldn’t have.

Affection surged through me when I realised his evolution from a violent thought to a violent person.

I introduced Ben to my friend. Matt’s a lawyer, he knows people and what makes them tick. He’s had experience dealing with ruffians like Ben.

“Well, Matt?”

“Good. Except for one serious plot hole.”


She lay on my table, her glowing skin provoking my every sense. I had never seen something so plump and lush, waiting and wanting to be devoured. For a moment, I considered dumping my New Year’s resolution. Only a fool would give it all up. Because one look at those soft swerves began melting my resolve.

Her scent threatened to asphyxiate me as I approached the table. My pendulum of a mind rocked between what it wanted to do and what it should do.

The next thing I knew, I was tearing the chicken, the grease dripping down my elbow.

The Call of Love

Kim’s eyes streamed as she stared at her phone.

Calling it a day, Kim rushed out of the office. Driving like a maniac, she regained composure only at the Slow sign at the hospital’s entrance.

“Emergency ward,” her mind directed her up two flights of stairs, halting at the end of a long corridor. Rushing to the nurse sitting outside, she panted, “Joyce-”

He gestured and she went in shaking. On a tiny mattress lay the love of her life, who brightened up as Kim entered. Kim gave Joyce’s paw a loving stroke. And the cat mewed in satisfaction.