Buzz in Shower - A Short Story

Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash

Tuesday. It is another usual day, the same rudimentary routine of waking up, freshening, getting ready and going to work.

Half-awake, I rise from the bed and I step into the shower, toes flinching as they touch the chilled ceramic tiled floor. My mind still in shreds; I am still dreaming. It felt as though I sleepwalked to my bathroom, to splash water on my face, to get myself out of slumber. I am still in my dreams, I could not get the picture out of my mind, the witches & wizards bewitching mankind.

As I make my way with a towel in my hand to the bathroom and splash some water on my face, I decide to take a shower and get it over with. I strip down, wear my shower cap and step turn the knob. I adjust the perfect pressure and temperature, turning the water on high and letting the water beat over my head in steamy rivulets. My eyes still closed, as the heat soaks into my skin, I stand still waiting for the picture in my mind to go away, as I lean against the cool tiles when my legs threaten to buckle. Steam filled the room as I continue to shower on with my loofah and shower gel.

Out of nowhere, I hear a buzzing sound. My eyes open wide. Now, I am wide awake, alert. I scan through the bathroom, to locate the inception. I again hear it. This time it felt as if it were bees meditating while they fly making their way through. I was no longer in slumber, the sound yanked me. Amidst the shower, I had to locate the bee before it finds and stings me. My mind swirls, and I turn off the knob, so the steam clears.

I rip the shower curtain to the sides and I don’t flinch, engrossed in a treasure hunt to find the hidden honey bee. The water continues to cascade down my body, massaging my stiff muscles of back from long hours of sleep.

I crack an eyelid and raise a brow at the same time. I find the bee, after looking for it for good fifteen to twenty minutes. It has flown to reside comfortably on my towel. I try to chase it out of the door but in vain. The bee kept flying within the four walls, as though it didn’t want to escape. It felt trapped perhaps, but little did the bee know, so was I. It flew. It flew all around the tiled walls, threatening me each time. While I kept swaying side to side trying to escape coming in contact. I couldn’t escape out of the door, I was lathered with soap from head to toe.

The bee finally decided to rest. It sat still on the tile opposite to where I stood. I swiftly turn on the knob and set the temperature and perfect pressure for me to wash off the lather and make an escape out of the door.

I finished taking my shower. All along, it did not move at all. As though it was dead or perhaps, it decided to let me finish my shower. I move closer. As I look right at it, I can see it’s large black compound eyes and translucent wings. How strange it would be if we could see as they do, from their tiny vision, split into tiny images, like the images from a shattered broken mirror.

I step out of the steamy room all clammy and glistening with droplets of the sweat of fear with goose pimples on my skin — what a strange shower experience I had had, an adrenaline-filled one, eyes wide awake submerged in fear, pumping me up at the start of my day.

©Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Book Review - Bluest Eyes by Toni Morrison

Title: Bluest Eyes By Toni Morrison
Language: English Toni Morrison
Genre: Self-help/Motivational
Pages: 288
Rating: 5/5

Excerpt: The book has a dark keynote with varied themes. It covers war, torture, child abuse, racism, sexism, incest, misogyny, self-destruction and failed pursuits in life. It depicts how the roots of family and a stable life impact a kid in their making while growing up vis-à-vis from a broken abused family. This book exposes the buried history of hidden racist ideologies of America.

My thoughts: The book has a narrative style bringing to light historic fictional writing, where the hardships brought by the great depression is discussed. If one is interested to learn about the American ideology on the Afro Americans lives at that time, it is a must-read. The writer has subtly drawn the veil off from the hidden tales and experiences of perpetual racism of the coloured people in the US, which is denied often. The female narrative has a strong voice, which makes it sound like feminist writing.

 

©Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Dancing with my Shadow - A poem

Photo by Martino Pietropoli on Unsplash

                                                                  

                                                                        A guest shining in the darkness

with rays glowing as shadows

a momento to become nothing under the

starlit night or sunlight

It reincarnates and dies alongside me

Like we humans, are nothing but dust

Shadow zips up into my body

until it’s beneath my feet

I see it unfurl, walking away

once more stretching itself into the dark

It trails me, dances between the trees

as the sun flickers through it

Mirroring my actions,

Looking up at me, admiring my every move

Immaculate outline of my shape

echo of my movements

Lifetime of companion

melting into the darkness with twilight

Loopy strides, or walking at a snail pace

Darkness leading us up to the light

Dancing endlessly with my shadow

As if — I am & I am not!

©Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.
Originally published in the publication Spiritual Tree

Reading in Progress - A poem

Photo by Amy Benton Blake on Unsplash

She sat there in a corner

On her favourite couch

With fog on her glasses

From the cup of tea in her hand

A book in another hand

As she deeply indulges herself in reading

She smiles as the characters

Talk and express among themselves

She cries as the book comes to an end

Dreaming of life the characters lived

She catches her breath

Each time the climax grows near

She is deaf to the surroundings

The book is all she can hear now

She is completely lost in the words

Black & white flying in her head

Sparkling and connecting the circuits

Inside her brain, shining bright

And each time, she found herself

Indulging in a new experience, the book took her along.

Author’s Note: Dedicated to all the readers and bookworms out there! Happy Reading!

Originally published in the publication The Cornered Gurl on 11 May 2020

©Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Book Review of Ancient Toltec: Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz

Title: Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz

Language: English
Genre: Historic, Self Help
Pages:
Rating: 3/5

Excerpt:
This book is about the beliefs of the ‘Ancient Ones’ community who believed life is an endless dream — a world of illusion which is just like a smoky mirror that doesn’t allow us to see who we really are! The quality of the dream purely depends on whether your mind or soul is controlling your life. Smoke in between us keeps us from knowing what we are.

Miguel talks about four agreements we need to live by to achieve the life free of limitations, make profound changes to your life, help you re-create your existence — where you find yourself and learn how to be happy at all times in life no matter what life has to throw at you. The four agreements are :-

• Be impeccable with your word
• Don’t take anything personally
• Don’t make assumptions
• Always do your best

My Thoughts :

A must-read to improve the quality of thinking and way of life. The book is engaging to read about an idea depicting, life is a living dream and the analogy, we see smoky image of yourselves in the mirror. Despite this, in my opinion, if the writer also included "how-to" to imbibe these agreements into our daily lives, it would serve more benefits and help one break out of thoughts. While reading this book, it made me wonder and reflect on what we do in our day to day lives and how we can engage in conscious talking and thinking to spread positivity.
©Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

All Tapped Out - A Short Story

Reflection into a new reality 

                                                                        Photo by Sidnei Maia from Pexels

I always loved collecting things, anything unique, interesting and cute — key chains, tags from clothes, coins, stamps, small toys, souvenirs, trinkets, etc. I had everything I ever collected in my cupboards stacked away, locked for years. It wouldn't be wrong to refer to it as hoarding. I hoarded not one, not two but different kind of things I thought brought joy to me.

With a heavy heart and fondness, before moving to a new city, I went through everything I owned and to my surprise I discarded most of these collectables. The things I collected and saved my entire life. What I thought is a great hobby to have, and felt proud of once upon a time. But what struck me hard is, by the end of clearing everything, what I most treasured and could not part with were the books my parents bought me, a few books among the one I had read for years as a part of the curriculum, the diaries and books I wrote in, my clandestine journals, my father’s books of early editions which in itself is an untradable treasure.

For years until then, I believed the collecting things bring joy to me. I was so wrong. I also felt I have too many clothes and things I did not need. I felt the need to stop buying clothes and be satisfied with what I have and carry whatever I could to the new city. Same goes for the shoes too. I now feel I will live a life of abundance ruled by values, I am going to live a life of content. I have everything I need in life.

I doubt I will ever be content with collecting books and notebooks followed by some stationery, though. They continue to remain my loved weakness. But I have fallen out of love for shopping, collecting or hoarding. I don’t count collecting books as hoarding. I guess this is what all books lovers are going to say!

Perhaps after so many years on earth, I’ve just learned what makes me truly happy. What I genuinely value and appreciate. But I know this — I will be forever chasing time to do things which awaken my soul, create a spark in my brain, and the twinkle in the eyes. I will strive to do anything different each time I sit down with the creative side of me by painting colours on a canvas or by pixeled words or ink a book with my thoughts by immersing myself into it. Only, because I can’t stay away from it.

"Surround yourself with people that push you to do and be better. No drama no negativity. Just living in a higher vibration, motivation, for good times and positive vibes. No jealously. No hate. Simply bringing out the best in each other"

©Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

This story first appeared in  ShortStories101 on 18 May 2020

Tuesday’s With Morrie by Mitch Albom — Book Review

Source

Title: Tuesday's with Morrie by Mitch Albom
Language: English
Genre: Philosophical, Memoire
Pages: 192
Rating: 5/5 💗

Excerpt: Forgive yourself before you die. Then forgive others.

Morrie Schwartz— the old professor, heart and soul of this book, a doctor of sociology, was diagnosed with a neurological problem in his seventies. He had amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) — an unforgiving illness that consumes a person — day after day, week by week, as time passes. By the end of it, a person is still alive- wide awake, making you lose all control, frozen inside one’s own flesh. The book captures Morrie’s last few months of his life when the realization of mortality is a source of enlightenment.

This philosophical book is written with great clarity, conviction and wisdom glorifying the rekindled connection of student & teacher, along with profound discussions.

My Thoughts:
I simply love this book and can't think what kept me from reading this marvellous book for so long.

A must-read for everybody. The book will make you ponder on your actions, your outlook to life and wake you up to realizations.

©Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.