P. Wish's Blog, page 7

Exciting News!- Confessions Serialization

Hi everybody. I hope you're all doing great this Sunday. I have some exciting news to share with you all. 

I have decided to serialise a novel I wrote long ago. It's been four years since I wrote 'Confessions', a chick lit/ women's fiction novel. It's been sitting on the shelf ever since. I finally decided to put it out there for all of you to read.  It has always been my dream to serialize my novels on my blog. 

Sundays can be really boring. I know I waste most of my Sundays doing pretty much nothing productive. I go through random blogs and videos most of the time and get bored. Most websites aren't updated on Sundays. 

That's why, I decided to add a chapter of Confessions to my blog every Sunday.  I hope it helps you inject a dose of humour into your Sundays. You can subscribe to my newsletter and RSS feed for blog updates. Feel free to follow me on my social media and youtube to know when a new chapter is released. 

I am in the process of editing the novel. Since I wrote this book a long time ago, it may be full of imperfections. I will try my best to polish up the grammar and story. However, keep in mind that my writing style was different in the past. If you spot any mistakes or have any comments or suggestions, please let me know. 

The chapters are of varying lengths. The first chapter, for example is more than seven thousand words. Another chapter might be less than three thousand words. Keep this in mind when you read the novel. I will categorise the posts under 'confessions' for your convenience. 

Short Story Wednesdays will progress as usual. The first chapter of Confessions will be out soon. Please comment and let me know what you thought of it. 

I hope you're all excited to add Confessions to your Sunday routine. 

Thank you all for your support. 

Yours truly,
P. Wish 

Short Story Wednesdays #6- Dream Diary (Part 1)

Welcome back to another Short Story Wednesday. I hope you're excited for the release of this short story. In case you missed the trailer, you can catch it on my youtube channel. The link is on the left. Please subscribe by clicking the subscribe button on the right. 

Enjoy the first part of my latest short story, Dream Diary. 



Dream Diary

‘Sometimes, I feel I am not myself anymore.

My body is disappearing…

 I see distant images in my dreams.

 Someone calls me, asks me to become one with them.

 Some days, I can’t wake up from my dreams. I am trapped. 

It pulls me away from the harsh reality.

In my dreams, I can be anyone I want.

Anyone but myself. 

Please help me understand what’s happening….

-emma1234’

“Trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr” the loud alarm clock rang ferociously. Emma woke up suddenly and fell out of bed. The alarm clock continued to ring. She snoozed the alarm clock and curled up on the floor. She pulled the duvet and wrapped herself in it. She saw a hand. Her hand wanted to reach it. When she closed her eyes, she became part of another world. The alarm rang again. Her eyes opened with a start. She was in the last phase of her dream. Why did the alarm clock have to ring? 

She brushed her teeth while examining herself in the mirror. Who was the person she saw in her dreams? She had been having vivid dreams of another world for two months now. The dream recurred every night. She saw one new scene each night before it was time to wake up. Over the course of two months, she had gained some understanding about the world she saw in her dreams. She wasn’t sure if it was her creation or now. It was vivid and real. Every time she slept, she found herself being sucked into a new life in the new universe. 

The universe was called Alpha. It was made of dreams. The walls were stardust, the trees hope and the skies love. People lived in harmony. The cliffs were made of crystal and the stars were as large as planets. The universe had two moons, one red and one blue. When Emma closed her eyes. Visions of Alpha flashed in her mind. She wanted to go there.

Beauty wasn’t all she saw. She saw a stranger extending a hand out to her. She never saw his face. His form was a long shadow in her memory. He held out his hand to her. He called her to be a part of Alpha. Night after night, she saw the same person. A pink shadow appeared in her dreams. He asked her to come with him and forfeit this pretentious existence. He promised a miraculous future where they would be one. But, before their fingers touched, she would wake up. 

Emma wanted to know more about her dreams. Were they really a gateway to another world? Could she come back once she left? Could she leave? She wrote a dream diary every morning. She scribbled a few words in her dream diary that day. That was the only way she could keep track of her dreams. Sometimes, she forgot what she had seen. But, the pink shadow always called out in the distance. He extended his arm and called her. Their fingers never met. 

She logged on to her laptop. She had received an e-mail from dream interpretation forums. She had recently signed up for it. She had the nagging feeling that maybe somebody out there had the same problems she did. Maybe they could help her. She was surprised to know that she had received a reply. She quickly clicked on the message and read it. 

‘Dear emma1234,

I am John. You may not know me yet. I have been working on a new invention called ’The Dreamscope’. I have tried it on myself. It will help you look into your dreams. If you want a trial, enter your name in the ‘comments’ box and I will contact you again. 

-John 4567’

The message read like spam. Somebody was trying to foist a useless product on her. She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to trust people on the internet. 

The idea intrigued her. If she could look into her dreams, she would be able to see the stranger who appeared every night. She could communicate. Maybe their fingers would touch.  

A wave of courage came over her. Her hands moved rapidly across the keyboard. Emma boldly typed her name  and address and replied to the message. She clicked her fingers on the table anxiously, waiting for an answer. There was none.

 She left for university. She had classes all day. She returned in the evening and turned on the laptop. There was no reply. She dismissed the comment as spam and went on with her life. She ate a bland microwave meal and watched some TV. She lived alone. She was lonely. She didn’t know why she was getting a PhD anymore. She didn’t English Literature. It wasn’t what she had imagined it would be. She had gotten through college to please her parents. Now, at twenty eight, she had no direction in life. She hated reality. It offered nothing. Her existence was lonely and incomplete. She couldn’t see her future. She might get a job, get married, have kids and grow old but would those things ever satisfy her? 

She wanted more. She wanted to transcend time. She wanted to see beyond the three dimensions of space. She wanted to unravel the mysteries that haunted humankind for centuries. She wondered if she would ever be able to do it in this world. She had been born in the wrong time period. But, it could change. It would all change if she went to Alpha. Her dreams were the reason she lived. They promised her a better life. They drew her towards another world, a world that she wanted to live in. 

That night, she dreamt again. 

In her dream, she was climbing endless flight of stairs. She didn’t know where it led. The end point was shrouded in dark clouds. A hollow voice called to her, drawing her away from reality. 

She took a few more steps. The closer she got to the source of darkness, the louder the voice got. She had a long way to go. She took a thousand steps closer to utopia. 

The pink shadow called out to her, jerking her eyes open. Their hands didn’t meet that day either. Emma’s eyes were torn between living in the dream and waking up. In the distance, she heard the alarm clock ring. The sound became distant. She found herself being drawn to Alpha. She saw people. They had smiles on their faces. She wanted to be with them. She fell into a waterfall. She saw herself in the depths of the ocean. 

Her body was wet. She couldn’t get her eyes to open. The clear picture of heaven turned hazy. Ripples lined the surface of her mental image.  She had never found it so difficult to wake up. 

“Wake up!” she heard a deep voice say. Her eyes opened abruptly. She panted violently. She saw the white ceiling, calm as ever. She turned away from it. With her hands supporting her body, she sat up and looked at the window. Daylight broke in through the glass. The window was open. She heard someone breathe. The doorbell rang. Emma walked out of bed and opened the door. 

A stranger stood in before her. His piecing black eyes examined her carefully. He wore a long, grey coat. Emma was self conscious. She looked at herself and noticed that she was wet. Her clothes clung to her body. She didn’t know how she had gotten wet. Her yes trailed to the bed. It was wet all over. The stranger’s eyes followed hers. Emma cleared her throat. 

“Who are you?” she asked in a rushed tone. 

“I am John4567. I sent you a mail about my Dreamscope yesterday. Remember?” he asked. His raised his dark eyebrows. Emma looked around. The water had formed a trail across the carpet. This was not the best time for him to show up. 

“Yesterday? What time is it right now?” Emma asked.

“Five in the evening. You said you’d be back from the university by that time.” he said, expressionlessly. He flashed the message at her. She read the words she had written on his phone screen. 

“Come in.” Emma said, her voice low. She opened the door wide. “Give me a second to-“

“Sure.” his voice was low and calm. He dragged a large metal telescope. It looked like a piece of old aluminium that had been picked out of the trash can. Was he serious?

 Emma quickly changed her clothes after drying herself. He heart drummed with anticipation. She had forgotten all about college that day. Her dream had carried on until the evening. It was taking over her mind. She was losing control. She could’t return to reality as quickly as she usually did. Emma was puzzled. She wondered if she should ask John about her dreams. She didn't know if he could be trusted or not. He looked serious and reliable but she decided to wait it out. 

She emerged out of the bathroom wearing a pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt. She breathed normally. She took a seat facing John. Her blue eyes turned to him. 

“Can you tell me more about the dream you wrote about?” he asked. 

“Umm… sure….” Emma was hesitant. She began to describe her dreams in detail. She showed him the dream diary that she had written over the course of two months. 

John had a very serious look on his face. He rarely smiled or showed any other sign of emotion. He wore a pair of jeans and a black sweater under his coat.

“The entries are written poetically.” John remarked dryly after analysing Emma’s diary. He set it aside. “All right, let’s begin.”

“Begin?” Emma swallowed hard. 

“I wanted to cross check a few things before I use the Dreamscope on you.” John said. 

“Hmmmm?” 

“These aren’t mere dreams,” he said. His voice sounded serious. 

“What do you mean?” Emma asked. She leaned in. 

“Your dreams are a portal to another world,” he said. “Gradually, your dreams will become your reality.”

Butterflies danced in Emma’s stomach. She couldn’t believe what she had heard. She never knew that her dreams could be more than imagination.

“Wh…what do you mean?” she asked shakily. “What is happening to my body?”

“Your body is becoming aligned with the other universe,” he said. “Today,I noticed that you were drenched in water. Did you dream of clouds or waterfalls?”

“You’re right,” Emma said, her eyes widening with shock.

“You dream of the same shadow every day. Each day, you take one step closer to your goal-”

“What does the pink shadow in my dream mean?” Emma asked. “How do you know all this?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself,” he said. “I am John Stone. I am twenty eight years old in this plane. I have spent most of that time researching dreams.I believe that dreams are our bridge to dimensions that out physical form has not yet discovered. The ultimate product of my research is the Dreamscope. It bridges imagination with reality. Or, what exists with what could.”

He handed Emma his visiting card. He was a Professor at her university. Her eyebrows went up. She had never seen him. He was part of the psychology department, after all. She didn’t interact much with other departments.

“That’s an interesting theory,” Emma said. “Have you managed to gather any proof?” 

“I’ve performed many experiments. I didn’t live in this world but I began to have dreams like you. They made me come here,” he said. Light flickered in his dark eyes. “I’ve been trying to conduct experiments. I’ve published some articles in journals. But, people like you are rare. It’s hard to find suitable tests subjects. Not many people experience what we have.”

“And why do you think that is?” Emma asked.

“Your desire to rise beyond the physical is what is pulling you so strongly. The walls between imagination and reality are cracking. Before long, they will be gone. You’ll going to face a huge challenge when they wish to dissolve.”

“What kind of challenge?”

“It’s hard to describe. You’ll know when it happens.” 

“When will it happen?”

“Very soon.” he said enigmatically. “Until then, I’ll leave you the Dreamscape.” 

“What does it do? How is it going to help me?” 

“Besides recording your dream, it will find out how close you are to breaking the invisible ‘wall’ between your dreams and reality. Do you want to go to the place you dream of?” 

“I don’t know…” Emma began hesitantly. She saw his deep eyes lowered on her. “I do but I don’t know what will happen once I have here. Will my body go too? What will happen to my family?”

“Your existence will be erased and transferred to the other world.” he said. “But, the process can be hard and not everybody succeeds at transcending space.”

“What do you mean?”

“You may get lost in the layers of time and space,” he said. “But don’t worry, the Dreamscape will help you reach the other universe successfully.” 

“How will I know I’m successful?” Emma asked.

“There are levels which you body and mind need to go through,” he said. “When you are ready, you will know.” 

“Sounds like levels of a video game”

“Something like that.” He said. “I will attach this machine to your television so that I can see your dreams. It’ll show you how you are progressing. When the ultimate challenge comes, you’ll be on your own. Here, take this.” He handed her a chip help by a round piece of thread.

“What is this?” 

“Make sure to wear it round your neck all the time. Since you have lost the ability to move in and out of your dream dimension by will, this will help you find our way out of your dreams.” 

“I need you to sign this for me,” he said handing her a contract. “Read through the terms and conditions before you agree. I need to track your dreams to be able to help you.”

Emma glanced at the contract. She looked around nervously.

“If you need time to think-“

“No, it’s fine,” she said. “I want to successfully make it to Alpha.” 

She scribbled her signature across the pages. She felt that she was alone all this time. But here was a man who had crossed worlds. She could use his help to surmount the ultimate obstacle. Only, she didn’t know what it was. She handed the pages back to him. He folded it and put it into his folder. He tucked the folder in his arm. He gave her a copy of the agreement. 

“I’mm come by when you’re at level five,” he said, showing her how to read the buttons on the Dreamscope. “You’re at level two now.”


He explained the setup and left. Emma looked at him disappear from the corridor. As she closed the door, she saw the pink shadow in her dreams coming towards her. She stopped. Her fingers froze over the door handle. The shadow came closer. She heard its hollow voice. 

“Come to me,” it said. 

Emma took a step forward and extended her hand. 


(To be continued....) 

Dream Diary: Official Trailer

Here's the trailer for my latest short story. Dream Diary (Part 1) is releasing tomorrow. Keep your eyes on my blog (this page) for the first half of the story. 

Until then, enjoy the trailer. Please share, comment and subscribe. The subscribe button is to the right of this page. Thank you. 

Short Story Wednesdays #5- She Comes with the Rain

Good morning everyone! 
I hope you all saw the trailer for this short story yesterday and are excited for the release. Without further ado, I present to you, She Comes with the Rain.

Please subscribe to my youtube channel and newsletter to stay updated. I release a short story every Wednesday so check back  next Wednesday for a new short story. 

Feel free to share this story and comment. 


She Comes with the Rain

Noisy raindrops slid down the sloping roof. The aroma of wet mud filled the air. Fresh green leaves looked greener against the cloudy sky. I sat on the porch, breathing in the beauty of nature. A ladybird crawled up my knees. I touched it. Its bright red body burst into a speedy buzz of its wings. It flew away. Raindrops ran down my wet knees. I stood up and walked into the house, leaving a wet trail of my footsteps on the wooden floor. My aged legs moved slowly across the floor. 

As I approached the kitchen, the smell of freshly baked bread gushed through my nostrils. I revelled in it for a moment. I eagerly stepped into the kitchen. I put on my mittens and opened the oven. Warm air flooded my face. I pulled the bread tin out of the oven and put in on the rack to cool. I revelled in the sight of a perfectly baked loaf of bread. The risen, golden bread looked warm and crunchy. At eighty two, I had finally mastered the art of baking bread. I smiled to myself. 

The phone rang loudly. I walked to the phone and answered it. My daughter-in-law’s voice burst through the speaker. 

“How are you?” she asked. 

“I’m good,” I said. “I baked some bread today.”

“Sounds good…” she said. A long pause followed. Her tone fell. “Did you have a look at the brochure I sent you?”

“Not yet,” I said, my voice low. My eyes glided across the table to spot the brochure for an old age home that she had sent me.

“Think about it,” she said. “I know you don’t like the idea but you’ll make lots of friends once you are there. I visited the place last week. They said they could hold the room for me for a month.”

“But I moved into this house only last month,” I said. “I want to stay here for some time.” 

“I’m worried,” she said. “You’re all alone. What if something happens?” 

“The gardner next door visits me every day. Don’t worry.” I said, trying to reassure my daughter-in-law. She was the only family I had in the world. 

“Think about it,” she said. “I need to get back to work. I’ll call you later.” 

“Bye, dear.” 

She hung up. My small blue eyes stared at the rain pouring outside the window. I sighed. I was already at that stage in life when I had to begin planning for my death. I heard a loud thud in the kitchen. My weak heart skipped a beat. I walked quickly to the kitchen, trying to balance my weak knees and heavy body. 

The bread tin was lying on the floor. Only half a loaf of bread lay in it now. Had the cat eaten the other half? I looked around for any signs of the neighbour’s cat. There were no footprints on the floor. Hmmmm….that was strange. If not the cat, who could it be? The thief had left a trail of breadcrumbs. 

I followed it. It ran across the kitchen floor to the bedroom. The trail stopped at my closet. I tiptoed to the door and opened it rapidly. My gesture scared the girl who was sitting in the closet, happily eating the loaf of bread. She immediately dropped the piece of bread and looked at me with surprise. Her large, violet iris dilated. Her soft hands moved to the edge of her skirt. 

“Who are you?” I asked. The girl looked like a teenager. I wondered why she was stealing bread from my house. Her skin was pale. A bit too pale. Had I scared her? 

“You can see me?” she asked, in disbelief. I looked at the piece of bread that had rolled to my feet. I picked it up. 

“Of course I can,” I said, defensively. “Why are you stealing bread from my kitchen?” 

She didn’t say anything. She was shocked. 

The doorbell rang. 

“You wait here.” I said. I hurried to the door and unlocked it. The gardner was here for his daily visit.

“Hello Mrs. Walker. I hope you’re doing well,” the gardner said. He was a young man, in his thirties. He tended to the local park and gardens. He always had a smile on his face, especially in the morning. 

“Are you off to work, Jack?” I asked. I noticed that it had stopped raining. 

“Aye,” he said. “Have you been baking?” I nodded.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said. He turned around and left. I saw his broad shoulders disappear.

The sun shone through the clouds. The puddles on the ground began to dry up. 

I made my way back to the closet. The young lady was gone without a trace. The piece was bread was gone too. I was annoyed but I decided to let it go. I went back to the kitchen and cut the remaining bread into slices. I had it with soup that evening. 

I thought about the young lady who had stolen my bread. I wondered how she had managed to get into the house. She had disappeared with the rain. 

The next evening, it rained again. The scene outside the window was humid and dark. Clouds had taken over the evening sky. The tranquility of the evening breeze was lost in the noisy pitter patter of the raindrops. I was busy cooking soup in the kitchen.  I heard footsteps make their way to me. The got louder. I quickly turned around. I saw the young girl from yesterday standing next to me. Her eyes stared at the soup. She was drooling. 

“You’re back,” I said, stirring the soup. She was taken aback.
“You can still see me?” she asked. She looked confused.

“How did you get in?” I asked. 

“I can walk through doors.” she said. She sat on the table and swung her legs restlessly.
“What!?” I asked. 

“I’m a ghost,” she said. 

“That’s very funny.” I said. 

“I’m not kidding,” she said. Her face was dead serious.

“You’re serious?” I asked. “But….”

“Nobody has been able to see me until…until now.” she said. She picked up an apple that was lying on the table and began to eat it. 

“If you’re a ghost, why do you eat so much?” I asked, quizzically. 

“I’m a hungry ghost,” she said. “I only appear when it rains.” she said.

I was having a conversation with a ghost. I was senile. 

“Where do you go to school?” I asked. 

“I don’t go to school anymore. I used to go to St. Luke’s across the road.” she said. She had finished the apple by now. She threw the centre in the bin. I turned off the stove and looked at her. 

“What’s you name?” I asked. 

“Jenny. I’m Jenny the hungry ghost.” she said. Her eyes drifted to the soup. “Is the soup done?”

I smiled. The girl really was hungry. Though I didn’t believe the ghost part, I felt bad for her. We dined together that night. She helped set the table in exchange for the food. Rain poured endlessly. The skies were completely dark and not a single star could be seen. 

“So you live alone, eh?” she asked. 

“I do,” I said. “My daughter-in-law worries about me all the time.”

“Is she the one that gave you this?” she asked. She held up the brochure for the old age home. I nodded sullenly. 

“I have to go there sooner or later…” I said.

“You don’t want to.” she said, reading my expression.
“My husband and son passed away a few years ago. I used to be a journalist but I retired fifteen years ago.”

“You have nobody to take care of you?” 

“Ummmm….would you like some wine?” 

“I can’t drink,” she said. “I’m still in school.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I said. I stood up and walked to the wine rack. I opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass for myself. I sat on the table and drank the glass of wine. Jenny ate a piece of cake that I had left over from the previous night. 

“You’re really good at baking,” she said, eating with gusto. She reminded me of my son. I smiled at her warmly. “The couple that lived here before you used to order takeaway all the time. It tasted horrible.” 

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ve had a lot of time to work on my baking since retirement.” 

We finished the meal and sat together near the television. Jenny looked outside the window. 

“Looks like it’s time for me to leave,” she said. 

“Will you come again tomorrow?” I asked.

“If it rains…” she said. With those words, she disappeared. 

The sun came out the next day. It was a bright and sunny summer morning. The flowers that the gardner next door had planted bloomed into a vibrant multitude of colours. I baked another loaf of bread while watching TV. My ears listened for any sound of Jenny but met with the sound of birds chirping instead. I searched for her shadow but smiled to myself when I remembered she didn’t have one. I didn’t believe that story. The phone rang. 

“Hi, I’m calling from from Solomon old age home. Am I speaking to Mrs. Walker?” she asked. My voice died in the throat. I grunted weakly. 

“We have a room available for you to move in as soon as possible.” she said. 

“I’m not interested.” I said abruptly and hung up. 

My heart began to beat faster. I breathed unevenly. I looked at the empty house. It was silent and lifeless. I smelled the bread, I smelled the soil and I smelled the carpet. My eyes trailed to the floor. I heaved a sigh. I could take care of myself. I didn’t need to go to an old age home. Before I could think, the doorbell rang. 

It was Jack. He looked fresh and bright like always. He flashed a huge smile at me. I calmed down. 

“Morning, Mrs. Walker. It’s a fine day, ain’t it?” he said. 

“It’s lovely,” I said. “I see your flower beds are doing well.” 

He smiled. 

“I’m going down to the school today. The garden’s a mess.” he said, trying to make conversation. 

“Oh, that reminds me, do you know Jenny?” I asked. His face hardened. “She studies at the school across the street.” 

“How do you know her?” he asked. His smile vanished. 

“I thought I saw her…” I said, trying not to give everything away. He looked shocked.

“You must be mistaken,” he said. “She died three years ago.”

“Died?” I asked. 

“Hmmm….she was hit by a car on her way home.” he said. He looked up at the bright, blue sky. “It was raining that day.” 

That meant she really was a ghost.

“I’ll take my leave,” Jack said. “I’ve got lots of work to do. See you tomorrow.” 

He turned around and left. I stayed at the door and saw his form disappear. My eyes looked at the bright blue sky. It wasn’t going to rain today. 

At night, I read a book by the window. I thought about what Jack had said that morning. Jenny really was a ghost.

The next evening, it rained. I was overjoyed. I watched her Jenny’s small footsteps. Though she was fairly tall, she had very small feet. After what Jack had told me, I wanted to meet her again. A hungry ghost, eh? I smiled coyly to myself. You live to see all sorts of things. 

The clouds burst into rain. Thunder roared. I went to the kitchen, eager to welcome Jenny.

She appeared with her broad smile and endless appetite. Her small eyes twinkled at the sight of food. I decided to bake my favourite chocolate truffle cake for her. I had listened to the weather forecast last night. I knew it would rain that day. I longed to see the excitement in her eyes. 

“Wow! Is that cake?” she asked in a high pitched voice. I smiled warmly. “It looks delicious.” 

Her nostrils opened to inhale the delicious smell of the cake. I began to dust some sugar over the surface of the cake before slicing it into eight even pieces. 

Jenny was drooling. She was a hungry ghost, after all. 

“You’re really good at this,” she said, swallowing a piece of cake straight from the cooling rack. She was ravenous. 

“Thank you,” I said gracefully as she reached for another piece. 

“You’re so nice to me. It didn’t rain yesterday. I’m starving.”

“You only appear when it rains?” I asked. She nodded. She was consumed in gulping the cake. 

“Leave some room in your stomach for dinner,” I said. 

“I have all the time in the world,” she said. “It’s going to rain all night.” 

I looked out of the window. Thunder roared, lightning rumbled and rain poured endlessly. I smiled. I was beginning to like the rain. 

We sat down and had dinner together. 

“So, why is it that I can see you?” I asked as Jenny greedily ate the bread that I made for her. It felt good to have someone who praised your cooking. Since by husband’s death, I had grown accustomed to eating alone. I never heard the feelings of those who ate my food. It was a small token of joy that I missed receiving. 

“You must be close to death,” Jenny said carelessly. When she realised what she had said, she stopped chewing and looked at me with a piece of bread stuck between her teeth. “Oh….that’s usually the reason why people see me.”

“When was the last time somebody saw you?” I asked. 

“Three years ago. My grandma saw me before she died.”

“When I die, will I become a ghost like you?” I asked. 

“It depends,” she said. “I’m a ghost because I have unfulfilled desires” 

It was refreshing to talk to her. The news of my impending death did not seem very gloomy. Having come so far in life, I realised that death was inevitable. I wondered if it would be fun to eat chocolate cakes and bread at people’s houses. My body had grown old and rusty. Walking, moving and breathing required too much effort. My joints creaked. I had to pop pills to breathe, eat and sleep normally. I wanted liberation from this restrictive life. I didn’t like the idea of being imprisoned in an old age home. I wanted to be free from all pain and restrictions. 

We spoke all evening. Time flew. At night, we cuddled together in my large bed. I felt warmer that night than ever before. 

The next morning, I heard Jack knock on the cottage door. Daylight seeped in through the windows and hit my eyes. It was drizzling. It was a sunny day. I glanced beside myself and found that Jenny was sleeping soundly. 

As I walked to the door, I noticed that my body felt light and airy. My joints did not ache anymore. My heartbeat was steady. I didn’t pant when I reached the door. I tried to open the door but it wouldn’t open. Jack pushed through. He stepped in and walked past me. Could he not see me?

“Mrs. Walker? Mrs. Walker, are you in there?” he asked, his face filled with concern. He went into my bedroom and saw my body lying on the bed. The sound of his voice had woken Jenny up. She stood by my body. I saw my body sleeping peacefully on the bed and I knew that I had transcended life. Jenny looked at me and smiled. Jack rushed out to call the doctor. Jenny and I looked at my body for a few moments in solemn silence. I turned away. My body had fulfilled its purpose. I didn’t need it anymore. 

“Let’s go to Mrs. Cavanagh’s,” said Jenny in an excited voice. “She bakes the best muffins.” 

I held her hand and we walked into the horizon together. 


- P. Wish 

Official Trailer: She Comes with the Rain

Here's the official trailer for my next short story 'She Comes with the Rain'. I hope you're all excited to read the story tomorrow. 

- P. Wish

Short Story Wednesdays #4- How to Lose a Fortune in 10 Weeks (Part 2)

Here's the second and final part of How to Lose a Fortune in 10 Days. I apologize for not editing it thoroughly. As you know, I've managed to crash two laptops this week with my sheer dedication and hard work. I'm now typing on my seven year old virus infested laptop that is miraculously working. Before this one conks off too, here's the short story.
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How to Lose a Fortune in 10 Weeks (Part 2)

Miss Greene was quicker than Anthony expected. After stealing a glance in the garden, Anthony had been formally introduced to Anne Greene. Despite her advanced age, she had many admirers.Penniless aristocrats lined up at Miss Greene's feet. She had a huge dowry, after all.

But, her ambitions were much larger. She had set her eyes on Anthony now and she would have him. Though she didn't have a very high social rank, she had a large dowry to snare him in. After marriage, she would enjoy his wealth which was much greater than the dowry. The dowry was her bait to reel a big fish in. Anthony was not completely oblivious to her scheming.

However, he had not expected her to show up unchaperoned at his house at midnight the following day. Anne Greene did not like to leave things to fate. She believed in crafting her own destiny. And her destiny was Anthony's inheritance. Lord Viles' butler hadn't been able to contain his shock when she showed up alone at the Viles mansion. He tried to save the situation but it had already gone too far. There was only one way out of this scandal- marriage. Alas, even marriage couldn't completely defeat the scandal. Mouths wagged about Anne's character. She was never considered a virtuous virgin but the episode moved her into the ranks of the impure. Anthony's courtship ended before it began. He went to meet Anne's father the very next day. The ailing Mr. Greene coughed in agreement to the marriage. He had little choice in the matter. A license was procured and the marriage was legalized.

Anne officially became Lady Viles. It was a moment of achievement for her. She had obtained the title and wealth that she coveted so much. Now, all she had to do was wait for Anthony to die. That wasn't going to be as quick as the wedding. She decided to stay at the Viles family estate in Essex for the time being.

Anne Greene knew something was wrong. She felt it tingling in her skin when she entered the Viles family home. The grand chandeliers, the newly refurbished rooms and the fertile gardens could not eyewash her. Anne Greene had to know what was going on behind the glamorous disguise of the mansion. Anthony was wealthier than Anne expected. But he seemed to have his own reasons for marrying her. Now that she thought about it, it all seemed very suspicious. He didn’t have to marry at this young age. He could’ve waited longer. His inheritance did not depend on him marrying. Of course, she had tricked him into it.

Her suspicion didn't find an outlet until the incident that occurred the following Tuesday morning. Anthony was away. He had gone to London to complete the formalities required of him after his father's death. He would return with the large fortune that he had acquired in the gaming hells and lotteries. Anne was looking forward to it. She had already initiated the process of buying new gowns for herself. Of course, they had to be from the most fashionable designer in Paris. She was Lady Viles, after all. Nothing less would do justice to her status.

In almost two weeks of living with Anthony, she had discovered that a bore like Anthony Viles did not exist in England. Anthony spend most of his time reading in the library. He was a ardent follower of the works of of Aristotle and other Greek philosophers. He also had an uncanny interest in Indian religious texts and chinese Confucian philosophy. Anne couldn't comprehend any of this.

Her world had been filled with dreams of wealth, granduer and status. She wanted to host the most exciting parties, meet people whom she previously only dreamed of and become the perfect Lady Viles. She wanted her reputation to be restored and enhanced. She wished for some passion if not love in her dull marriage. But Anthony Viles was hell bent on celibacy. He mediated at night in the seclusion of his room. Anne was beginning to realize how big a mistake she had made in marrying Anthony. If she could not produce an heir, she would never be respected in society. Anne wished that Anthony would disappear from her life and leave her his fortune. But, Anthony was far too young to die. The thought of spending rest of her life locked away in the countryside irked her.

Later that day, Anne went into Anthony's library to search for a book to read. She sat down on the chair and put the book on the desk. Her eyes fell on a key inserted halfway into the wooden drawer. Curiously, she opened the drawer. A solitary envelope lay on the dark mahogany. Her cold, white hands reached for the letter. She quickly opened it and brought out a neatly calligraphed letter. She began to read it. Time stood still. She could not contain the shock she felt. Had she known about this letter, she... She didn't know what to do.

Her green eyes went over the dramatic words contained in the letter. Who the hell was Mr. X? She searched the envelope for the date. There was none.

The next morning, she summoned the police chief who visited the house in the morning.
"Thank you for your time," she said gracefully, fluttering her long eyelashes.
"Do you perhaps know about this letter?" She handed the letter and the envelope to the policeman. His small, blue eyes examined it carefully.
"Yes, my lady," he said. "Lord Viles asked me to examine this case. I regret to say that we haven't found the sender of this letter yet. We assure you that we're working on it."
"So he knew...." Anne muttered to herself.
"Is there something you wish to discuss about the letter?" he asked, examining her expression.
"You see, I recently married Lord Viles. I didn't know about this letter. Do you happen to know when it was received?" she asked. "It's been nine weeks." he said. "Lord Anthony's birthday is next week. I assure you we'll protect him."
"Thank you so much," Anne said. "I was deeply worried about him."
The Chief left the mansion.

Anne lay on the sofa with the letter. X Her hopes swelled. Her life had improved with a single mysterious letter. Now, she only had to wait for Anthony to reach his twenty fourth birthday. He'd be dead and she'd inherit all his fortune, free from Mr. X. All this was too good to be true. Anthony was not planning to return until his birthday the following week. It would soon be over. She could get married to someone who was more passionate and Anthony's wealth would be hers to command. She smiled to herself all evening and fell asleep that night.

Anthony Viles was supposed to arrive home on 4th of July, his birthday. Anne had organized a feast for him. The kitchen staff were busy with preparations for the grand dinner. She had invited the neighbours to complete the picture. Anthony was supposed to arrive in the afternoon. The clock struck five. Sunlight had faded. The skies were dark. The smell of food encircled the mansion. The guests would arrive soon. There was no sign of Anthony. Anne was beginning to get excited. Had he already been killed by Mr. X?

A strange feeling rose in her belly and shot like electricity through her spine. Maybe she shouldn't have asked the police to stop the investigation. He was supposed to arrive early in the morning but due to the weather, his ride had been delayed. Anne was busy with preparations for the dinner and didn't notice his absence. In the course of their five week long marriage, she had only spent a week with him.

Rain began to pour once again. Uneasiness ran through Anne's veins. The rain was a premonition of doom. She reminded herself that she's inherit the fortune once Anthony was out of the picture. But, the thought of his sudden disappearance made her uneasy. What if the police suspected her? She had carefully planned alibis to protect her. She had been in the mansion the entire time. She forced a smile on her pink lips. She patted some rouge on her cheeks and examined herself in the mirror. She looked like a true lady. The fashionable gowns had transformed her full figure. She looked younger.

The doorbell rang. Anne proceeded to the door to greet her guests. She didn't want to come across as an inexperienced hostess. She arranged her gown and stood near the entrance, waiting for the butler to announce the arrival of Lord and Lady Hale. Instead, he announced Peter's arrival. Anne was surprised. He had to speak to her about something urgent. They sat in the drawing room. Tea was served. 


I have something urgent to tell you," Peter said. "I just arrived from London." 
"I hope your journey was pleasant," Anne began. 
"Anthony is missing," he said, his voice serious. 
"Pardon me?" Anne asked, her voice calm. She had expected to hear this. 
 "And that's not all. He transfered his entire property to you before he disappeared." Peter said. 
Anne smiled inwardly. Anthony Viles had played her game. She has asked the chief to stop investigating the case purposely. She was waiting for Anthony to die. Freedom was withing her reach. He had done what she expected. She thanked the unknown Mr. X in her heart. She returned to the coversation with a serious expression. This was the last time she would have to act. 

 "I must be honest with you," Peter said. "Anthony had been planning this for quite some time."
 "What? What do you mean?" Anne asked, surprised. 
"I heard you asked the police to stop investigating," he said. 
 "The letter..." Anne pronounced. "I thought it would be better to not provoke Mr. X." "I see..." Peter said.
 "As you know, Anthony was planning to get rid of his fortune before his birthday. He wanted to will it all to you before he died. That is why he was in London, but-"
 "But?" "I don't know how to say this but Anthony really disappeared. He was planning to leave for India on his birthday so that he could escape Mr. X. I got him a place on the ship..." 
"What are you saying?" Anne asked. 
 "He didn't board the ship." Peter said. "I feel so guilty. I looked everywhere but nobody has seen him all day."


 Anne's heart was jumping with joy. Her husband was gone and the fortune was all hers. She feigned a gloomy face to please Peter. Before she could utter any words of condolence, the bell rang again. "Mr. White." the butler announced. A rough looking man with a greying beard forecefully stepped into the room. He surveyed the surroundings. Ten more men entered the room. They weren't gentlemen. They looked like thugs. Anne shivered. The men dissipated into the room. One of them took the large China vase that adorned the table. "Excuse me gentlemen, may I know what brings you here?" Anne asked, ruffled by their actions. "Are you Anthony Viles' wife?" he asked in a scruffy voice. "Yes," Anne said. "And you are?" "I'm John White. I'm here to collect my dues. I advise you to leave this house, my lady. It is to be sold tomorrow." "What!? What are you saying?" Anne asked in a state of panic. "Mr. White, what is going on? You must explain." Peter said. "You don't know?" he asked. "Ha....the lad was smarter than I thought." "What do you mean?" Anne said. "Anthony Viles tranfered his entire inheritance and fortune to you last week." he began. "I am aware of that." "He's disappeared now so you need to pay up." "Pay up?" "The Late Lord Viles was deeply in debt. When the young Lord Viles inherited the estate, he inherited the debt too. Last week, he settled a large part of the debt using all the jewellery and cash he had. He also allowed us to use the proceeds of the house towards the sale. After discounting everything, you will need to pay us 2000 pounds more. "2000 pounds!" Anne exclaimed. It was exactly the amount she had brought in dowry. "As the sole heir of the estate and Anthony's legal wife, you are under the obligation to dispose of the debt." The ground disappeared from under Anne's feet. This was far beyond her expectations. Anthony Viles had tricked her into a life of indebtnedness. She was a fool to believe that she was marrying into wealth. She had married into poverty. All she had now was the title- no house, no money, no jewellery, no gowns, no dowry....just a title. She knew that Anthony had made his escape from the country using the money he earned during his gambling exploits. He would live a comfortable life while she had to labour like a maid to pay off his family's debt. Anne's pale face became paler. Not even the dark rouge could bring life to he face. Her life had been ruined. 

- P. Wish

Short Story #3- How to Lose a Fortune in 10 Weeks (Part 1)

Here's the first part of the short story I promised. Stay tuned for Part 2 next week. 

How to lose a fortune in 10 Weeks 

Lord Anthony Viles needed a bride. Ever since he had received a mysterious letter from a certain Mr. X, that had been the only thing on his mind. 

Two months had passed since the death of Anthony’s father. Being the only son in a barren family, he was the sole heir to the family fortune. The Viles fortune invited the awe of many, the scorn of a few and the wrath of one mysterious Mr. X. If fact, Mr. X was the reason Anthony had decided to get jump into the abyss of marriage at the 23. 

After receiving the news of his father’s sudden death, Anthony had rushed home from Oxford. His mother had passed away in grief almost a week after his father. That meant he was the sole legal heir to the fortune. The thing was, he didn’t know what to do with it. Anthony had led a sheltered life at Oxford and Eton. The only interactions he had were with other aristocrats. To top it all, Anthony had decided to study Philosophy at Oxford. He had fallen deeply in love with the subject. However, it distanced his dreamy mind from the practicalities of life. 

Almost a month and a half ago, things changed. Anthony received a letter from Mr. X. He was in his library, mourning the death of his mother when the letter was delivered to him. He remembered that fateful day. It was sealed with Lac and stamped with a seal he did not recognize. The contents of the letter deepened his gloom. 

It was a letter of warning. He remembered the short letter vividly.

Dear Mr. Viles,

If you do not get rid of your fortune by your 24th birthday, you will pay with your life. 

Yours truly,

Mr. X 

Those words frightened Anthony. He decided to report the letter to the police. However, the police hadn’t been able to discover anything about the letter or its sender. The symbol was enigmatic and the content vague. 

Anthony decided to ignore the letter and went on with his life. Alas, it was not meant to be. While horse riding, Anthony missed a gunshot narrowly. The shooter was never found. One month ago, he had found a dead fox in his plate. It had been brutally stabbed. It was a warning. Mr. X’s words was not empty words. Somebody was targeting Anthony. The police, after all the investigation had failed to find Mr. X. Anthony was really worried. One thing was clear. Anthony would not live beyond his twenty fourth birthday if he still had the inheritance. That meant he had ten weeks to lose his fortune. The question was how?

Lord Anthony had consulted his dear friend Peter. Peter had studied law at Oxford. Their friendship had grown deeper over the years. Peter advised Anthony to gamble his entire fortune in London’s infamous gaming hells. Anthony, being spiritually inclined and disinterested in the pleasures of the world, had never tried his hand at gambling. He took an immediate fancy to the idea and began making connections in the gaming hells of London. 

One night, he arrived at the most unlucky club in the city. The club had made a pauper out of many a famous gambler. Industrial smoke combined with fog lent a mysterious hue to the elusive club. The gaming hell was a toxic dump. The place smelled of nothing but cigars and alcohol. Cigar smoked encircled the room, making Anthony cough. Anthony had weak lungs. He wanted to get out of this place as soon as he could. Drunk men brawled in an uncivilized fashion over the slightest loss to their fortunes. The brandy had a strong smell. It nauseated Anthony who had given up drinking after reading about religious reservations against intoxication. Not that his liver could take it. 

Anthony challenged the most skilled gambler in the country. The Marquess of Devonshire was an expert at gambling. The world had never seen a gambler as skilled or experienced as him. Many suspected that he cheated but there was no proof. Anthony boldly challenged the Marquess filled with hopes of losing the game. 

But as luck would have it, Anthony ended up winning the game and his fortune doubled within one night. He was not elated. He was deflated. He had more wealth to get rid of. Peter had told him about beginner’s luck but he hadn’t believed it until now. He challenged the Marquess again the following week and won. He tried gambling at other places but after a week of doubling and tripling his fortune, he resigned himself to his fate. The plan was not working. 

Peter came up with another plan. 

This time, he took loads of money in a horse carriage. The roads were famous for highwaymen who stole the fortune of the rich and titled. Anthony’s carriage bore his family’s seal. He shuddered inside the carriage. England was cold in October. The perpetual rain didn’t help. The night air was still and cold. There was silence all around. Anthony was alone in his carriage with the large suitcase of cash tucked under his chair. 

The carriage suddenly stopped. Anthony heard a gunshot pierce through the still night air. They were here. Anthony’s bony legs began to shiver. The chill pervaded through his spine, igniting his survival instinct. Somebody knocked the carriage door. Anthony’s hands shook violently. His weak spirit had almost left his sick body. 

One of the highwaymen pushed the door, knocking over Anthony. His body forcefully moved to one end of the carriage. 

“Give us everything you’ve got.” the highwayman demanded in an authoritative tone. The sparkly silver revolver pointed towards Sir Anthony’s weak head. 

“It....it’s....all in the box....” he said, pointing to the trunk under the seat. The highwayman stepped into the carriage, shoving him aside and opened the trunk. Others stayed outside the carriage and watched the spectacle unfold. What they saw took their breath away. The trunk was filled with bank notes and jewelry. Sir Anthony had shoved everything he could into the trunk. Despite the obvious fear that he was supposed to feel, Sir Anthony felt a temporary sense of relief. He could go to India now. He’d never have to come back to England and face Mr. X. Anthony had no interest in the estate. All he had ever wanted was to go to India and learn the ways of the saints. The ways of the materialistic English society did not suit him. 

Anthony heard another gunshot that jolted his dreams. The horses made loud noises. The carriage began to move. The highway man who was trying to steal the jewelry fell over. 

“Stop right there!” he heard another loud voice say. The police men were here. They broke into the carriage, arrested the highway men and restored the possessions. 

“Are you all right, my lord?” the constable asked. Anthony nodded weakly. 

“We’ve been looking for these men for ten years. The prize of £10,000 is all yours now.” he said. Sir Anthony’s heart sank deeper in despair. This was proving to be a very unlucky week. 

“I only did my duty as a citizen.” he said, trying to sound normal. The police awarded him the prize money, nevertheless. Sir Anthony’s fortune had tripled after just a week and a half in London. He returned home with a deep sense of gloom filling his anxious mind. The day of his death inched closer. His dreams of fleeing to India became hazier by the moment. 

He consulted his trusted chum Peter again. The following evening, Peter rushed to Anthony’s house. The mansion’s splendor had grown since his last visit. Attracted by the recent surge of wealth, many servants had found their way to the mansion. It was cleaner than ever. The estates were doing well. Peter was surprised to learn of the unexpected turn of events. 

“You’re a lucky man.” he said. Anthony now had three times the original amount to dispose of. 

“Is there any other way?” Anthony asked, deflated. “Must I give all my wealth to Mr. X?”

“We don’t know who he is.” Peter said.  He paused for a moment. “There’s one thing you could do.”

“What?” Anthony asked, his eyes lighting up with hope.

“Get married.”

“There must be another way.” 

“I know you’ve never thought about it but this is the only option now.” he said. “There are many women who would marry you for your wealth and title.” 

“How is a wedding going to help?” Anthony asked. 

“Have you heard of ‘gold diggers’?” Peter asked.

“You mean it’s better to be killed by your wife than Mr. X?” Anthony asked, with a weak sense of humour. 

“No. Fake your death. Nobody will suspect it. Get married to a gold digger and leave for India. I’ll help you fake your disappearance. Everybody will think she killed you for the money.”

“But...but what about my body?” 

“Let’s say you died by drowning. They would never be able to find the body.” Peter said.

“But why must I get married before I die?” Anthony asked.

“That’s the only way you can get rid of the fortune and go to India. Killing two birds with one stone, eh?” 

“I wonder who Mr. X is.”

“I am curious too.” Peter said. 

That is how Anthony ended up in a ball, of all places. The ball was hosted by the Duke of Lancaster. The Duke was a man of connections. His wife was a flamboyant woman who wore the most exquisite fashions. Her mouth was colored with dark lip paint and her cheeks were eternally painted with bright rouge. Her large grown covered a one meter radius around her. She smiled brightly at the guests who walked into the ball. The Duke’s residence was magnificent. Large, glass chandeliers hung on the exquisitely painted ceiling. When candle light hit the surface of the chandeliers, they shone like diamonds. The ballroom was spacious and well decorated. The splendor of history vibrated through the hall. 

Peter, who was a close friend of the Duchess had informed her of Anthony’s plight. She made sure to invite every eligible bachelorette she knew. She assured Peter that Anthony would find his match. Attracted by Lord Viles’ recently inherited fortune, ambitious mamas and greedy daughters swarmed like bees attracted to nectar. He was supposed to be in mourning. Not that they cared. 

There was no way Anthony Viles could walk out of the ballroom a bachelor. Dowagers were desperate to make his acquaintance and little missies blushed at the sight of the young Lord Viles. Needless to say, his dance card was full of women he had never met before. Anthony was in heaven. Not, really. Though all the women were attracted to his wealth and status, none seemed to be aggressive enough to kill him for his wealth. This was not going to do. Anthony was beginning to get bored of seeing pretty little misses. He excused himself to the garden for a stroll. 

During his short stroll, he met Miss Anne Greene. Miss Greene was at the bottom of the social ladder. She was the daughter of a gentleman. Her father, Mr. Greene was a clerk. He had suddenly come down with a life threatening illness. If rumours were to be believed, he was on his death bed. 

Miss Greene was on the lookout for a husband. At twenty five years of age, she was an aging spinster. According to most, she was not on the shelf anymore. That’s not what she believed. Miss Greene possessed moderate beauty and little wealth but, she possessed abundant brains. What intensified her desire to marry was not age, social status or marital bliss. It was money. Miss Greene was the proverbial ‘gold digger’.

Mr. Greene had saved a meagre amount for Anne’s dowry. The money was locked up in the bank and the only way Anne could receive it was by giving in to holy matrimony. He was not in a position to re-write his will or consent to any financial transaction.

She was looking for a rich husband who possessed moderate looks and no brains but abundant wealth. Anthony Viles fit all her criteria. At twenty three, he was fresh out of school. He had neither the interest nor the smarts to live in a world as materialistic as Victorian Society in the late 1800s. Anthony had no worldly desires. That meant his wealth was Anne’s to enjoy. 

The news of Anthony’s newly acquired fortune had spread far and wide. Not much was known about him since he had spent all his time at Oxford. However, not even the young and chaste Lord Viles was free from the chronic illness of gossip that plagued Victorian society. There were rumours that he wanted to renounce the world and become a saint. The contents of his newly acquired fortune were well known. The fact that it was only growing by the day attracted the fancy of many an ambitious Victorian mama.

Nothing could deter Anne Greene. Anne had her mind made up. Anthony Viles would be her sacrificial lamb. It was a mutually beneficial bargain. Anthony would have somebody to look after his fortune and Anne would control his title and wealth. It was a match made in heaven. 

Anthony could not agree more. His eyes met Miss Greene’s from across the dark garden. She bent her head, deliberately shying away from his gaze. Her eyelashes fluttered, shielding her green eyes. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Not even the tight corset could hide her ample belly and bosom. Her skin was turning red. She held her breath. She wasn’t going to choke to death. She had found her prey. 

(To be continued....) 

- P. Wish


Disclaimer: The historical background is not accurate and all characters are fictional. 

How to Lose a Fortune in 10 Weeks- Official Trailer

I'm super excited to announce the release of the official trailer for 'How to lose a Fortune in 10 Weeks'. The first part of this short story releases tomorrow on my blog so keep an eye on the main page. The story is my first attempt at historical comedy/ romance so comment and let me know how it was. 
Here's the video. Please share, subscribe and comment. 

Short Story #2- UNDO

Here's the second story. I hope you're enjoying these Short Story Wednesdays. Subscribe to my Youtube channel for regular trailer updates. In case you missed it, the trailer for this short is up on my Youtube channel. Please feel free to share and comment. 

Undo

The choppy sound of keys filled the air. Half a cup of coffee lay by the computer screen, undisturbed. A pair of dark eyes shielded by spectacles stared at the flashing screen with an unwavering devotion. The phone near the coffee cup vibrated. The eyes turned to the phone. 

“1 Message received’ the phone screen lit up. His thick fingers moved to the phone and unlocked the screen. He began reading the message. 

‘Your have recently used undo.com.’ the message read. There was no sender, no subject line and no punctuation. The number ‘00000000’ flashed as the sender’s number. Dan took a deep breath and stared at his phone. His eyes turned away. 

The glass window shivered under the chill of the night. Curtains flew chaotically against the violent breeze. The stranger stood up. His slippers slid across the wooden floor and shut the window with a soft thud. The room was dark without the light of the stormy moon. He slid back into the worn out seat that lay in front of the computer. From the corner of his eye, he observed the cup of cold coffee, sitting motionlessly on the table. He shifted his attention back to the computer screen. 

An e-mail filled the screen. The subject line read: ‘High school reunion photos’. He downloaded the photos and opened the first one. There was Sarah, Amy, Jim, Lee, Nadia and...and Julie-his eyes froze on her willowy frame. Her face still as fragile, gentle and warm as it was ten years ago. His heart began beating rapidly all of a sudden. His palms slid across his chest, becoming one with the beating of his heart.  His eyes were transfixed on the photo as his mind recalled a string of buried memories. His vision blurred. 

Her deep blue eyes haunted his dreams. Her soft lips were a juxtaposition of the image he dreamed of every night. She looked real, too real. The soft lines of her jaw had been weighed down by some fat. Her cheeks were not soft and supple anymore but etched with the scars of time. Yet, she was the same Julie. The one he had loved all those years ago. 

The arms of the noisy clock ticked, jolting his senses. He took a deep breath in. His breath remained locked in his lungs as his eyes moved to the person standing next to her. It was a man. His eyes blue just like Julie’s, his frame narrow and his hair brown. His long arms slid across her shoulder, emerging from the other side. 

So, Julie was married now. Time hadn’t been fair to him. Then again, life had never been fair.  A slow grin spread across his cheek. The nerves in his throat bulged, trying hard not to burst against the intensity of his hate. 

His fists curled up into a ball and he smashed the cup of coffee. Liquid coffee dripped to the floor, forming a pool of brown on the wooden table. The white porcelain cut a long line of red across his arm. Blood filled the deep cut. He took a deep breath it and hissed. 

His eyes turned to the pool of coffee. He looked at the remnants of the white cup. His eyes drifted to the peeling wallpaper that adorned the walls. The floor was dusty, the kitchen sink overflowing, the postbox full, the windows creaky, the taps leaking and the sofas bursting their seams. His eyes turned to the monitor. He quickly began typing a URL. 

A black page filled the screen. ‘Welcome’. The words ‘UNDO’ were inscribed on top of the page. A password window opened up. He hurriedly typed in the password. The page refreshed into another blank page that looked like a search engine. The words ‘UNDO’ were written on over it. He entered the words ‘the broken coffee cup and wound’. He pressed enter. 

A blink later, his eyes turned to the porcelain coffee cup seated smugly next to the personal computer. The cut in his hand had disappeared without a trace. His fingers ran across his smooth arm. There was no trace of any wound. He smiled to himself. The lukewarm coffee stated at him, cold and uninviting. He turned his gaze to the computer screen and got rid of the black window. He began shuffling through the reunion pictures again. He was glad that he had missed the reunion. 

His eyes remained fixed on the stranger standing next to Julie. He opened the black window again and typed the words ‘Julie’s marriage’ in the search box. A second later, the image of the stranger next to Julie disappeared. He smiled with greater satisfaction and continued to stare at the picture. His crooked mouth was straight now as the satisfaction spread across his chest. 

His phone flashed again. Another message. He picked up the phone unlocking the screen with a complicated pattern. 

“You have used undo.com. Only two more to go for today.” the message read. It was from the same unknown number. The stranger’s breath was trapped in his throat. He pushed the air out as he read the message again with widened eyes. He tried to click a few buttons on the keyboard. The website stared at him, just the same. He banged his fist on the other end of the table, sending ripples across the surface of the coffee. The message was still the same. The words swam before his eyes. 

“Damn.” he hissed through a clenched jaw. He raked his fingers through his messy brown hair. He adjusted his spectacles and took a deep breath in. He opened another window and began viewing the code of the website. It was encrypted. He let a sigh out. This was not the first time he had wanted to hack the website. He leaned back against the chair and let out a frustrated sigh. His memory reeled back to the strange encounter almost a week ago. 

It all began with an e-mail.  His eyes ran through the words that he had written a few years ago. The word document hung before his eyes. 

‘I wish life were life a computer. Press ‘undo’ and it never happened.’ 

Almost a month ago, he had received a mysterious e-mail from an unknown sender. . The e-mail contained a link to undo.con. When Dan tried to enter the URL in the search engine, it never showed any results. The site could only be accessed through the e-mail. It also required a password which had been sent with the e-mail. 

At first, he had tried it out of mere curiosity mixed with a heavy dose of skepticism. There was no way a website could undo all the horrible things that happened in his life. 

Now, almost a month later, Dan had become completely dependent on the website. He tried to hack the website and discover its origin but it was perfectly sealed. There were no loopholes in the coding. Dan had begun to suspect that something this perfect could not be real. How could someone have created this website? He wanted to meet the programmer. 

The door bell rang. Its sharp sound vibrated through the stationary coffee mug. Dan stood up and walked to the door. With a rapid swoop, he opened it. There was nobody outside. He shut the door, muttering about the noisy kids in the neighborhood. He went back to this desk. It rang again. This time, he hurriedly reached for the door and opened it with marked irritation. 

His jaw fell open. His pupils dilated. The figure on the other side of the door was unreal. It was Julie. Of all the people in the world, it was Julie. The minute he saw her, he knew. Her clear blue eyes pieced his heart with the intensity of a bullet. He had imagined this scene in many different ways but this was unprecedented. 

Dan froze. He didn’t know what to say. He had been silent all these years. He had harbored this unrequited love in his lonely heart for the longest time. Now, this loneliness felt natural. He didn’t know what to say. He had grown accustomed to the silence.

“Ummm...Dan?” she asked, her eyebrows raising. 

“Yes?” Dan said, pretending not to know her. 

“I’m Julie,” she began in her soft voice. The gentle caress of her breath made him weak in the knees. Nothing had changed. “Do you remember me?” 

Of course I remember you. My thoughts have been filled with you ever since I can remember....

“Julie....from school?” Dan said instead. 

“Yes, it’s me.” Julie said with a broad smile. She moved closer to Dan and embraced him. His heart rate shot through the sky. This thing was really working. The Undo engine had made his wildest fantasy come true. He smiled to himself smugly. 

“Come in,” he said, his chest high. His grin spread out, covering his cheeks. From Julie’s back, he could see the messy apartment. Thankfully he had not turned on all the lights. A heap of dirty clothes lay on one end of the room, covering the room with its stench. Dan quickly moved to the corner and closed the laundry bag. He moved it away, shoving it into the next room. The light was dim and eerie. He opened the window. 

Julie moved uncomfortably. She didn’t know why she was here. 

“Please sit.” Dan said. He picked up the newspapers and magazines that lay over the couch. It had been ages since someone had visited this place. His breath was quick and jagged. Julie sat on the couch, her pale blue eyes searching the room.

“Coffee?” Dan asked awkwardly with the papers in his hand. Julie nodded awkwardly. He was oblivious to the surroundings. His heart thundered. He had gone back in time. He had gone back to the awkward boy he was in high school. 

“No...no thanks.” she said. She edged forward, knocking over the empty vase on the table. It fell to the floor and shattered. 

Dan leapt to the computer and typed ‘broken vase’ into the undo search engine. The broken vase miraculously put itself together. Dan turned around and saw Julie looking at the brand new vase with shock coloring her face. Her hands covered her mouth. Dan realized that she didn’t know about the undo engine. Cold sweat broke out. 

“What...what was that?” she asked. 

“Ummm....that...” Dan was tongue tied. How was he supposed to explain this? 

She glanced at the computer screen. Slowly, she got up, her fragile form making its way to the computer. She looked at the page on the computer screen. 

“What is this? Undo?” she asked, placing herself on the chair before the computer. 

“Uh....actually...” Dan decided to tell her the truth. But before he could say anything, she began pressing keys on the computer. His stomach suddenly felt weak as if a black hole were pulling his soul. 

“What....what are you doing?” he asked. Julie hastily typed the words ‘Dan’ in the search box and pressed ‘enter’. 

Dan’s eyes fell on his form, reflected in the mirror. He could not see his legs. It was as if they did not exist. Yet, he could walk. He hurried to the computer screen and opened the website. The name in the undo search engine was his. The wave of void spread to his stomach. He was rapidly disappearing. 

“What is happening? Stop it right now.” he said, trying to edge closer to the keyboard. 

“Sorry Dan, your time is up,” she said, her voice cracking. His eyes enlarged. He stared at her without expression. 

“Julie? What does this mean?” he asked, shocked. 

“I created this search engine,” she said, her voice low. Dan suddenly remembered that she had studied computers at University. “It was an accident.”

“But then...why...” his voice was breaking. 

“Today’s the deadline, in case you forgot.” she said. She opened the e-mail that Dan had received a few weeks ago. It was the e-mail containing the password. The expiry date was written on it.

“What is this supposed to mean?” Dan asked.

“Undo was supposed to be the future of the internet. It was the ultimate way of linking things and events to the internet....something like the future of internet of things.” she explained. “But it all went terribly wrong.”

“What!?”

“I sent you this e-mail last month,” she said. “I wanted you to test it out.” 

“It worked. It worked perfectly.” Dan said.

“I know, but something went wrong. Something went wrong when you erased my marriage. You see, the engine doesn’t handle past events very well. I haven’t found a way to program those.” she said. 

“This is crazy. Why am I disappearing?”

“Your disappearance is the only way to restore balance to this system. It is affecting the time of our world.” she said. 

Dan had almost completely disappeared. Only his face remained.

“Who did you choose me?” he asked. “Why did you send this e-mail to me?”

“Because I know you loved me...from long ago.” she said. “I wanted you to have this chance.  I’m sorry.” 

Dan’s lips curved into a smile as they disappeared with the cold air. The window remained open. 

Julie’s solitary frame hung over the keyboard. Her eyes steadily observed the void that remained where Dan had once been. Moonlight poured over her, lighting her tears up. She hung her head. Tears poured down her cheeks. They were wispy and ethereal in the moonlight. It was the end of another era. It was the last time somebody used that website. 


- P. Wish

Undo Official Trailer

It's almost time for my second short story release. 
This one's a science fiction with a modern twist. 

Here's the official trailer. Check my blog tomorrow for the full short story. Feel free to comment, share and please subscribe to my youtube channel and blog feed for weekly updates. 

Thank you for your support. 

Yours truly,
P. Wish