“Let me help you, please.”
“No, It’s a very important thing. And I need to submit the work to my editor next week!”
“Okay then, I’ll illuminate the mess you are in. Just trust me, okay?”
“Okay.” I sighed. Of course, she’s my best friend but I cannot write with someone nagging me.
“So have you thought of a plot or something?”
” Maybe, maybe not. I’m just gonna write whatever comes to my mind first.”
“Whoa, you haven’t thought of a story yet?”
“Well, whatever makes less sense in reality is a story.”
“Whoa, are all the writers sadist?”
” That’s how they write.”
I already had a plot in my mind. But I wanted to hear her childish ideas for invigorating the story.
“Okay, so how about the basic ones? One sided love, death of a partner or maybe a story about friends or parents?”
“Been there, done that.”
“Oh, so how about a ghost story?” She jumped with over-enthusiasm.
“Hahaha, sure.. So what’s the story?”
” Okay, the story goes like this,
A girl travels into the new city with dreams full of glee and rents this particular apartment. Everyday she gets a nice greeting from her fellow neighbor. She used to mumble few words with a blessing at the end.
The girl always wondered what she said so she asked her one morning and heard something which is usually considered hoax. The apartment had a very beautiful story behind it but it ended up with a curse-“
“Hahahaha A curse? You want me to write a curse?” I laughed and she pouted.
The apartment was considered cursed because of the recent suicides, the first suicide was noted 2 years ago and then the numbers kept on increasing. A lot of people who made anything but jokes were found dead soon. Anyhow, a saint passed by and he made me recite these words everyday every morning for the residents of this particular apartment. The neighbor insisted she recite these words before leaving the apartment.
But the skeptic girl didn’t agree and as usual she thought it was nothing but a hoax.
She lived in the apartment for 4 years and made everyone think the curse was broken. The job and the life was great until she became a victim of
The neighbor’s kid caught a glimpse of her sadness and provided her with words. With a notebook to write whatever was bothering her.
The guy and the girl often met and shared their stories. The stories found their tellers comical.. However for the writers, the emotions were mixed. The guy, a simpleton was entirely unaware of the curse. He wrote every unusual moment he experienced, love was one of them.
The girl fell in love with this new small world of hers. She weaved her own blissful little utopia.
Until, one night she found out that the guy wrote the stories for someone else entirely,
This broke her heart, tattered and shattered, she rejuvenated that curse. The guy losing a friend, wrote a novel for which he found suggestions in her journal, Charm.
Write something like this! ” She finished with a glimmer in her gray eyes.
A glimmer that could convince the almighty himself.
I was impressed with
her, her story…
“So, did you like my story?”
“I did. ”
“Hey so what should I name them?”
“Hey, don’t name them. They can be anyone and everyone. “
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“I know right.” She winked.
” But still, how do I address them?”
” He and she.”
” And they are references of?”
“Who were you talking to?”
“Oh hey, mom.. She was here again. “
“And who is she? ” skeptical as always.
” A hint of my dreams…” I said, closing that old journal.