Short Story “Untitled”

Posted: December 12, 2014 in Uncategorized

Hello Readers,

I am new to the blogging and this is my first blog. Its more of an opinion seeker from your point of view. I am writing a short story which I have initiated and written a few paragraphs only. I wanted an honest opinion from you regarding it. I don’t know how may people will read it, but if you, please be kind to give your comments. Thank you in advance

 

UNTITILED

On a Sunday afternoon, an old man was standing on the stairs of an old church, recollecting his confession few minutes ago. The church was one of the most ancient churches in the Europe which was quite evident from the mamothness of its structure.

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            After a while, there was a loud slam on the door, and a man bullied out of the church. There was feeling of discontent on his face and rage in his eyes. The old man understood that he might have been in a big argument with someone, but he couldn’t figure out what. He wondered for a moment, what could have been the business of such a man in a place like this?

He was 6.1″, bulky in his thirties, with black brown hairs dawning black overcoat, up to his knees. His face was weary, with circles beginning to mark around his eyes which indicated that he was a nocturnal in his work. His skin was that of a man in his forties.

He walked out of the church and sulked towards his vehicle which was parked in the church’s vicinity. It was black sedan, quite a few years old, but was in good shape. He took out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from the lower right pocket of his coat. It was cold outside, and he had affinity towards smoking too. He pulled out the stick with his tender moist lips, and lighted it swiftly. As he reached the door, he looked back towards church with a bit of disappointment as if his errands didn’t go as expected.

As he opened the car door, his cell phone beeped which he pulled out from his belt pouch and eared without looking at the number.

“Detective Abrahamson”, said he.

“Hi, it’s me. You remember about tonight’s dinner “, said the woman on the other end with a familiar voice.

” Yes I know. I will be there at 8.00 “, said he, biting his lips as he didn’t meant to.

He had absolutely forgotten about the dinner invitation at his sister, Connie.

As he finished his cigarette, he threw the cellphone on his next sit as he hopped into the car and drew away slowly.

He stopped at the cafe on way to home for lunch. He lived alone. He married once when he was 25, which lasted only 4 years when his wife Melissa died due to brain tumor. His wife was beautiful and she loved him immensely which was why he was still haunted by her loss even after 8 years. Since then, he hadn’t thought of another relationship.

He ate sandwiches and coffee in his lunch on the way to home. He mostly ate sandwiches in his meal except on the occasions of parties or when he was being invited at his sister’s. He went home and was so tired that he fell asleep right away.

He woke up, his body still aching and his mind still tired as he hadn’t had sufficient sleep for months. He peered outside the window which was dark. He got up frightened with the feeling that he was late for the dinner. He looked at the alarm clock and it was 19:15 and gave a deep sigh of relief. Even though he didn’t felt, he got up at once and took a quick shower, put on the same clothes and left for his sister’s.

Edward stood at the door with a bottle of wine in his hand as he checked his watch which told him he was 20 minutes late. He thought for a moment what he would say and knocked the door after coming up with no words.

A man opened the door and smiled. He let Edward in and shouted to his wife who was in the kitchen “Honey. Edward’s here”. David took the bottle of wine from him and placed it on the table. Connie hadn’t got angry with him for being late. By his usual standards, Edward was very much on time today. They dinned together and talked too. Connie had prepared turkey which was very delicious while they drank a little wine. Edward had always faced dilemma while coming to his sister’s but always got rejoiced after meeting Connie. She was the closest and the only one of his real family who was alive now. Their parents were dead. His mother died when he was 16 and father 2 years ago.

 

He opened his eyes as the warmer sensation started to intensify over his body with the rays of sun pouring over his bed through the glass windows of his bedroom. He realized that it must have been past 10 as the sun had moved over the horizon of the window. He looked at the clock, it was 9:50. He was still feeling the dizziness as he was going through one of the case file till the late hours in the night when the phone beeped.

He crawled across towards the lamp table while laying in his bed and picked his cell lying along with pack of cigarettes and the keys. It was from detective Crawford.

“Hey Detective, you must see this,” said Detective Crawford.

“What see this?” asked Edward.

“Crime scene, outside the town,” Crawford said excitedly.

“Well the boss sent me on a holiday. Don’t you remember?” said Edward.

“Oh screw the holiday detective. It’s just as you like. Stale, bones, mutilated. Meet me at the café. We will ride together.

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The Art of Following a Blog

Posted: October 20, 2014 in Uncategorized

The Daily Post

Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, your blog: pitch a tent anywhere on the web, and the expectation is that people will quickly line up to give you a (virtual) high five in the form of a “follow.” I see it often enough in our own Community Pool posts here at The Daily Post: “Follow me and I’ll follow you back!”

It’s pretty clear what the followed blogger’s supposed to do: keep posting stuff that others enjoy reading. Be a gracious host. Ensure posts are readable. But what about the follower? Is there a job description for what happens after you click on a blog’s “Follow” button (or Follow Blog Widget)? Here’s some food for thought.

Don’t expect instant reciprocity

You shouldn’t take the plunge if you don’t want to read new content from the person whose blog you just followed.

When you follow a blog you’re making a light…

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