Author Paradise has published my article on their blog site!!! So happy 😊😊🎉🎆🎊 Do check it out please! http://authorparadise.in/blog/2017/01/30/write-romance-play-safe-by-priya-bhowal/ Continue reading Article published by Author Paradise
“Easy,” he said, “Keep breathing, honey, stay with me, don’t give up.” He sounded panicked. “Don’t give up on us, love”, he was almost crying. I could feel him injecting something into my vein and pumping my chest. Gradually all feeling started to go numb, his voice gradually becoming distant. The vision getting clouded and I started drifting.
I opened my eyes to find myself in the middle of a dark, deserted road, my bloody hand holding on a human heart and a corpse lying right in front of me. “Honey!” I turned back, guilty and scared, expecting to see the only person who calls me so, but I received the shock of my life- it wasn’t him! “What have you done? I had asked you to stay indoors till Freddie brings your fuguing phase under control”, he said, equally shocked and nervous.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Vincent?” I asked.
“My husband” “Husband? Honey, I’m your husband. What’s wrong with you? Never mind, lets get out of here first before anyone spots us.”
I was brought back home, my home, but there was no sign of Vincent. I used my tracking senses, but there was no track of him in the vicinity. I rushed to Il Cantuccio cafe, and I found him at last, but with someone else – with Veronica. Wasn’t she supposed to be dead?
They were not alone. There were a bunch of people with them, as if there was some celebration going on. I walked closer when Vincent called for the crowd’s attention and said, “Thank you for joining me and my beautiful wife to celebrate our second marriage anniversary”, turning to Veronica, he said, “I love you honey, happy anniversary.”
“I love you too, Vince”, came the reply, and they kissed!! I couldn’t stop myself and yelled, “STOP!”
Vincent turned to look at me and asked, “Who are you?”
“Don’t you know me? What’s going on?”
I was about to approach towards him when Veronica retorted angrily, “Look Miss, this is a private party and you aren’t allowed to intrude, please leave or we’ll have to get you pushed out.” I was dumbstruck. The man had been following me. After apologising everyone, he dragged me out of the cafe. I was irritated, angry and restless.
At night, I couldn’t stop myself and stormed off to Vincent’s apartment. I didn’t enter. I watched him, from outside, with his new wife. “Who was that woman?” Veronica yelled at him. “I know her no more than you do. Trust me, dear” and he kissed her. But she wasn’t convinced. “I’ve been trying so hard to make our marriage work,” she said mellowingly. “I know you’ve been too, but I cannot see it in your eyes the same love I have for you.” She said touched his face “We’ve been childhood sweethearts but something changed after that accident.” I stood there and watched, my heart burning with jealousy and sorrow. I shouldn’t have told him that he’s better off without me. We’re incomplete without one another.
Suddenly there was commotion in the room. Three masked men rushed in, struck Veronica unconscious, blindfolded and gagged Vincent and dragged him into the car and raced off.
I followed the car, stealthily, but I couldn’t use my speed and stop them in fear of my beasting out and getting exposed. I followed them till the outskirts of Orlando.
It had to be the Stansguard, the one responsible for making me who I am, they never leave loose ends. And Vincent is one. But how can they come back when Vince and I had already destroyed them?
I avoided killing any of them. I somehow managed to get Vincent out of the car and took him to the woods. The goons followed us. All I was focused on was to protect him. I kept clutching his hand but I lost focus on the goons for a moment and that’s when I got shot. An excruciating pain hit me and I collapsed, still holding his hand. He sat beside me and asked, ” You were the one saved me that night, right? You were the one who dragged me out of the burning car, weren’t you?” “Yes”, I heaved. “And I’m the one you created.” I was passing out. “Don’t leave me, I’ve spent more than a decade looking for answers none could give me,” he said, clasping my hand, “Now that I’ve got them, please don’t give up, please don’t give up on us…” His voice faded, my vision got clouded again….
And I woke up with a start. “Stella… Stella, my love, you’re back!” Vincent said, heaving a sigh of relief. “I’m so sorry, I’ll never say you’re better off without me”, was the first I could say, crying. “Stel, I’m never gonna leave you, even if you ask me to”, “You recognise me?” I simply asked. “Of course I do, silly” and he hugged me tight, kissing me delicately. “You didn’t give up…”, he said. “I will never give up”, I answered, panting for breath.
That night, at our home, after listening to my weird dream, he said, holding his guffaw, “I was married to Veronica? Seriously?”, he hugged me delicately but passionately, as we relaxed on our bed. “Yeah, and you kissed her”, I replied, slapping him lightly. “Hey, it was just a dream. You know I will never leave you.” Looking into my eyes, he continued, “I’ve made a mistake of choosing her over you once, and I’ve learnt my lesson. I love you and only you, honey. I’m incomplete without you”. We kissed. A deep, passionate, heavenly kiss. He played with my hair and I caressed his well-toned back and arms. I’ve no idea how long it was, but by the time we moved apart, we were breathless. “By the way, who was the man with you?” He said on catching some air. “It was your dream world so you must know him.” “Yeah, I did” “Who was he?” “Uh… Don’t get irritated…” “Just spit it out”.
“Stefan Salvatore 😅”
At the end of every six months, after my semester exams are done, I fly homewards for a 20-day (end of odd semester) or 45-day (end of even semester) break. I fly from Bangalore to Siliguri which takes 4 hours. Around 1900 kilometers journey. Just yesterday I returned from my 21 day vacation. Tomorrow 4th semester begins. New semester, New phase of life. Got to spend six months before I see home. A Tale of Two Cities Continue reading A Tale of two cities
Dear diary, After today, if any body who passes by my room, would get to see this I’m a lazy drone, a spoilt kid actually. Always too lazy to keep my belongings in order. My room isn’t dirty mind you, you won’t find dead rats (not even alive ones) or rotting food or stinking clothes. I’m hygienic you see. It’s just haphazard. Clothes are clean, but not properly folded, worn clothes may be on my chair rather than on a hanger. Books and papers never stay in a clean stack or only on the table but they are strewn … Continue reading NajoWrimo Day #4 my door signs
Dear diary, Today i had a conversation with my mind, didn’t get any profound solution to my problem but still it was good have a talk Mental critic (MC): hey what’s up? Me: Don’t YOU know what’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be in my head all the time? MC: umm yes, but isn’t that what you say everytime you meet a friend? If you meet same person twice in a day you ask the same question twice Me: Whatever 😒 MC: Didn’t you just sign up for NajoWrimo? How’s it going? Me: Umm… Good enough. Though I have … Continue reading NajoWrimo Day #3- conversation with my mental critic
Dear diary, I thought over the entry I wrote yesterday. Though I consoled myself saying that yes I’m creative by the smattering of writing skills I have, by collecting coins and stamps and by taking up some dance classes, but still I’m not convinced that I’m being fruitfully creative. why do I feel so deficit ? Is it my inferiority complex talking or is it the blunt truth that I’m not creative ? But whatever I’m doing, do you know who inspires me? A lot of people. My granddad inspires me in numismatics and philately. From him I knew … Continue reading NajoWrimo Day #2 what inspires my creativity
Dear diary, I’m not half as creative as my mother, she keeps creating sometimes beautiful out of almost anything and everything. I’m just awful, I can’t stitch, only the chain style stitch I can somehow do, but it’s turns out a crude work. Even though I took art classes for around seven years, all I can somehow do is anatomy diagrams, that too out of much difficulty. I can paint an already drawn picture but that’s nothing great, right? My creativity quotient is ZERO. It seems neither side of my brain works efficiently. The only thing “creative” is play around … Continue reading NajoWrimo Day #1- creative side of me
Like most of us, I too have some phobias. Most prevalent was my fear of darkness. This fear was unknowingly instilled in me. As a kid, whenever there would be a power cut, I would wander around house in the dark. Controlling me would be difficult, so our landlord’s sister used to scare me with stories of monsters that linger in the dark. From then on I was scared of darkness. As I grew up I realised there’s nothing called monsters but still there was this fear lingering around my psyche. I needed night lamps while sleeping. Even I’m in deep … Continue reading Phobia-shobia
When was the last time I wrote something by hand? Asks the daily post. Ummmmmmmmmmm…………. Yes……. It was just yesterday!! And what did I write???? ???????? My CHEMISTRY Notes !!!!! 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😉😉😉😉 Handwritten Continue reading Handwritten
Had I been quarantined for a contiguous disease, I would spend my quarantine period doing only one thing. READING !!!!! 😊😇 That’s the only entity that can save me from dying of boredom. Inside the Bubble Continue reading Inside the bubble