The silence of the night seemed to envelope everything in the quiet little subrubs of Cardiff. The neat little house were sorted into regimental rows, all identical to the rest. The wind blew through a small childrens play-ground whistling as it was funneled down into the small narrow backstreets and alleys that meshed together and gave the quiet district another, secret personality, one far more sinister and organic than that of the neatly pruned gardens and sptless windows of the subrubs. The swing in the park swung back and forth, pushed by the wind, as though something invisible was interacting with it. the silence of the subrubs was deafening as it was broken by the creeks and groans metal against metal as the swing moved back and forth.

There was a knock at the door and he thought some one has entered his room and was sure that it was his father; he looked up and saw a bloodless pale face, which reminded him something of a corpse.

‘ I have come to ask you something.’ The pale figure whispered

‘ But I thought you were dead.’

‘I have just died but I am still alive.’

‘How can that be? I do not understand.’

‘Could you go to the tailor and have a new silken shirt made for my last rites.’

‘Go away, you are beginning to frighten me.’

The boy began to shake and covered his face with the duvet. A chill ran through his body and he dozed off in order to avoid confronting that situation again.

A hand startled him and his mother was shaking him to get up.

She spoke to him:

After ages of boring office work, I needed a break and wanted to have a vacation somewhere nice, to restore my physical and mental balance. I reckoned that I would need at least two weeks to recuperate from the taxing strain accumulated over past months, due to boredom and routines. I visited few travel agents, collected some brochures and studied those to find a suitable place for my vacations.

From his early years, the child showed multi talents. At the age of two he copied a painting hanging in the drawing room. The child had sketched the outline of the picture on a piece of paper with just a few simple pencil strokes and which pleased his parents great deal, for that brilliant piece of artwork. He was rewarded five rupees by his father.
Encouraged he began to show a lot of interest in both literary and visual fields.

‘ How can I get out of this disaster?’ demanded Sajjan and it was simply aimed at himself.

Sajjan Singh lived in a small village about five miles from a big town and where he journeyed daily to do various carpentry jobs, as his way of earning a living. He lived in the village with his elderly wife and though the marriage had lasted over thirty years, there were no children from that union.

It was autumn and the man was going on his evening walk. The dry leaves were falling from the trees and there was a carpet of brown and red patterns on the ground and it made such a crackling noise as you walked over it.

It was an overcast sky and the wind was as cold as the sky. There was a shiver all round and the man blew on his cold hands and put them in the warmth of his inside pockets. He was trying to bear up the sight of the gray surroundings and the grayness of his heart.

There was an island surrounded by the sea, a picturesque island but not with very fertile land as the coastal area was built of the grounded rocks pulverized by the tides and the daily battering of wind and the waves. Though it was a good place for contemplation, for the meditating minds of which there were not many people possessing this faculty in the village. The village consisted of about three hundred souls trying to eke out a living out of only a tiny strip of fertile land commonly shared or out of the riches of the sea.

Muni lived in the village on his own but was friendly and on good term with all others. He was somewhat a timid and cautious person as far as other people were concerned but ready to help anybody whosoever in need.

Jaggu was a part time labourer and also a part time jack of all trade and which may not be strictly true, as he never learnt a trade in a professional manner but drifted from job to job and from place to place, to earn as he called the ‘crust’ for his hungry stomach.

In this life many things will come and go as surely as Time itself will pass relentlessly, and incandescently, vibrantly, and of course, disarmingly; it will softly illuminate the most shadowed depths of existence. A candid lantern smothering its own ember flames gently; not murder, apathy.
These objects, in which so much affection will surely reside, represent nothing more than narcissistic ambiguity, on which we all- we all of us-, at some point in that river, Time, have surely struggled, drowning, to grasp on to; nothing more than one's desperate attempt at confiding one's deepest, most incognito, fits, those fits that cease nothing short of causing, not one, but many, an apocalypse.

As the first rays of sunlight inched their way across the room, she slowly began to awaken, stretching her long legs and arms out across the length and width of the bed. As her conscious mind began to remember what day it was, Destini climbed out of bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Knowing this was going to be a long morning of talking over coffee with friends and making the final preparations for her trip, she quickly hit the button on the Mr. Coffee and took in a deep breath so that she could enjoy the aroma of the coffee as it began to fill the room. After pouring herself a steaming cup, she walked over to the desk where her friends would be waiting for her. She bent down and clicked the button that would take her where she wanted to be.