Ronald Hadrian's Blog, page 11
August 30, 2024
Let us go to the beach- A Short Story by Ronald Hadrian
My bony fingers dangled as I pointed at my lazy grandson, who was slouched uncomfortably watching TV. He really must work out. He is fat, and if I were not this vegetable, I would wake him up every day and make him run in the uncertain Ooty weather. But no, I am too old. So old that my voice refuses to translate from my head to my mouth. By the time it reaches my mouth, only air comes out. I blame death, the reaper, the Yemen, an irresponsible fellow with fancy names. I’ll give him one star when he comes to pick me up.
Finally, my bubbly sloth turns his head towards me.
“What do you want?” he asks, this buffalo.
This question triggers a lot of memories and questions. I want him to move so I can see those bloody soap operas. But I also want to go to the beach. The crabs, the penguins, and flamingos flash on the Discovery Channel. I tell him to change to the previous channel. There it is: the white beach, the waves, the surfers. My old 89-year-old heart wants to smell the briny beach. Dammit, regret comes crashing upon me like a road roller. All these years, I never went to the beach. Never left these hills, never been on a fast electric train. The farthest I had gone was to Coimbatore. It was so hot I returned the same day.
I worked all my life in a boring convent school. Montessori, primary, middle school, high school, principal, then retired teacher, hostel warden. Along the way, two children, one boy and one girl, both ungrateful wrecks. They look after me so they are spoken of highly by the neighbors.
The truth is so different. I live here in this dingy home—my daughter is somewhere in California, and I am living in these cold, desolate, dormant Western Ghats. The place is unbearable, so I am told, every April and May. If it is so hot and people come here, perhaps I should go once to the beach before my vision fails or they lay me in a coffin.
My grandson announced to the family that I wanted to go to the beach. They did not like it.
“This is my last wish,” I squinted my eyes to look despondent. “You don’t want to fulfill my last wish? Believe me, I will haunt you all your life.”
My son did not like my existence now, and sure he won’t like my existence in whatever ephemeral form I would haunt him.
“We need to rent a car, and it is expensive,” he complained.
I sipped my sugarless tea. I thought, this house, the land, everything I earned now belongs to you, and still you won’t take me. I thought these things, but he understood. His wife gave a million reasons, but I was stubborn. If I am going to die, I will die on my way to the beach.
Things were set up, arrangements made. An oxygen tank was installed in the car. The driver even said, “You could rent an ambulance. You know… if anything is to happen…”
My family looked at me to see if I was offended. Of course not. That would be a story worth telling. But no, they wouldn’t get an ambulance. We started by evening so I could sleep, and by early morning, we could reach the beach so I could see the sunrise.
When we reached the hairpin bends, my grandson vomited on his mother. (Thank God he did not baptize me with his slimy samosa vomit). We stopped another three times before reaching Mettupalayam. I was the dying woman, and I didn’t have any trouble. But all of them got sick. Then they had tea a gazillion times, not even bothering to ask me.
Listen—if you have old people traveling, ask if they want something. Yes, they won’t be able to eat, but ask, just ask. Manners. What are teachers teaching nowadays? With these thoughts, I slept, and I didn’t know what happened after that. When I opened my eyes, it was morning. We had not reached the beach. I was disappointed. My son was in unusually high spirits.
“Mom, 5 more minutes and we will reach the beach.”
My grandson seemed excited. He did not peer into his Pandora box, so I knew he was excited. Suddenly I felt happy; my family was happy, and finally, I was going to really see the ocean that I had only read about. But I was sweating. Chennai heat is—well, in my last days, I promised not to use expletives.
But there was a calmness when we finally arrived. They struggled to get me out of the car, and then I saw it. Like art in front of me, welcoming my aching soul, this vast grandness, the sheer strength stretched towards the horizon. Fishermen were pushing boats into the water. I sat there in front of this blue sea in awe. I didn’t like the beach… rubbish stretched for miles, rubbish heaped like monuments of hopeless humanity. My grandson ran into the water and in a moment was pushed back by the gentle hands of the waves.
“It is salty,” he stood up, sand sticking to his wet trousers.
Then it was my turn. They held me, and my old feet made a hole in the wet sand. We all waited. The waves came, then retreated; it seemed they were playing with us. We stood in anticipation. Then, like a reluctant lover, the waves touched my old, weary feet. My soul opened to the vastness of the universe. Then I thought about him leaving me with the broken promise.
“We will go to the beach?” He had promised so many times. But he went away not keeping his promise. He stayed only for 5 years with me, then all of a sudden, he left for work and never came back.
My son was hardly 4 and my girl just 6 months old. For years, I waited for this moment. Now I can cross the ocean and be with him. I really wanted a fantastic climax for this visit; I was hoping for a tsunami in the end, but no, it was way worse.
My daughter-in-law lost her golden trinket, so they rummaged the entire beach till afternoon. I knew what a scoundrel the ocean is… it is inviting, it kisses you with the wind, entices with freshness, then swirls around until you get deep enough and lose consciousness.
I woke up in a hospital in my hill station.
It took me several hours to understand what had happened, and this is according to my saint grandson. I suddenly, in an adrenaline rush, ran towards the water and almost drowned.
“Why did you do that, grandma?” he asked.
“I went to search for the trinket…” I struggled to tell him.
He laughed out loud.
“What?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Grandpa cried like a baby when you wouldn’t wake up…”
Then I saw the man, the one I was married to, all grey and old, walk into the room and very much alive.
“Like I promised, I took you to the beach, and you wanted to drown there?” He sat down.
After three weeks, I understood what had happened. I noticed my grandson’s unusual change. He was respectful, studied always, and did not have a phone. Then, by Jove, I finally understood.
The ocean, that scoundrel, had swapped me into a universe where my husband returned early to play with our 6-month-old sweetheart. Now I am sure the other me died by this time, meeting her alternative family.
© Ronald Hadrian 2024.
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August 24, 2024
Modern Age Quiz
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August 22, 2024
Amma Can We Go and Meet Dad in Heaven – Short Story by Ronald Hadrian
My dolls scattered across the faded quilt as I sat on my Mom’s bed. The curtains were drawn, the steel windows closed. She sat there staring into nothingness, but I kept talking about my dolls. Then all of a sudden, I asked her, “Can we visit Dad in heaven?”
This took her by surprise. She looked hesitant, her eyes ringed with shadows, meeting mine. She nodded, and a faint smile came upon her lips.
“Now, Amma, close your eyes,” I told her. “No, Amma, we are going on the elevator.”
“It is a long ride, Amma,” I said. “It is a long ride. Lots of floors.”
My mother smiled now.
“Can you see the Earth’s crust, and now the stars… wait… wait, my favorite… the Milky Way…” I smiled. I hoped she saw the billion stars like I saw them.
She squeezed my hand, her touch warm despite the chill. We pierced the cloud cover, emerging into a realm of golden light. A verdant landscape unfurled before us, dotted with vibrant flowers and towering trees.
We descended into a garden bursting with carnations of every hue. Their spicy fragrance enveloped us as our feet touched the soft grass. In the center stood a young man with familiar broad shoulders and jet-black hair.
“Dad!” I cried, running towards him.
He turned, his face lighting up as he caught me in his strong arms. “My little butterfly,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
My mom hesitated, looking at this young man of about 20.
“You seem so young here,” said Mother. “Like in the old photographs.”
“We don’t age here. We are always in our youth here.” He embraced her.
“How have you been?” he asked, leading us to a small cottage. I told Mom, “Can you see the big mansion?”
She nodded. I could see tears trickling down her face.
“Why are you staying in this cottage?” my mom asked disapprovingly.
“Because we could never afford to buy this one on Earth,” he said, opening the door. It was beautiful. Birds chirping, flowers blooming, harp music drifting with the wind.
“I’m sorry there’s nothing to give you to eat,” my father said, smiling.
“So you don’t have any food?” asked my mother.
“No food, no night… always relaxing, playing, walking. It’s like an infinite vacation.”
“I’m glad to see that you’re happy in this place.”
“He is very happy, Mom,” I slipped in.
“Dad, can you show the dog?” I prodded.
Mom looked anxious.
“A dog?” she exclaimed.
“Yes, the one that got killed.”
My mother’s eyes welled up. “You have everything that you lost down there.”
“Yes, I’m happy here,” Dad turned and asked us to follow him.
We were walking along a river.
“Is that milk flowing like a river?” I asked with enthusiasm.
Mom looked at me questioningly. She didn’t like milk, so I nodded back. Then after a few minutes, the river turned to honey. She looked stern, like she wanted to understand what was going on.
Mom kept looking at me; she wanted the most important question. I knew she thought that, so I asked Dad, “Why did you leave us?”
He was silent for a moment. He tried to remember.
“I don’t know what happened. I can’t remember.”
“Mom said you went to get us food.”
“Oh, is that so?” he ruminated.
He looked at Mom and wondered. “I remember all the good things, but not the bad memories. I think that’s what happens in heaven, and in Hell, it will be the opposite, I guess.”
My mother stood up angrily. She remembered the struggle after he was gone. Here he was happy with happy memories, while back at home we struggled every day.
My dad asked about Grandma.
Mom stared at him blankly.
“We just shot her last week when she was infected,” I said. “Isn’t she here?”
My mom’s eyes widened.
We left Dad. We left this beautiful place. We came back hearing the knock at the kitchen door.
“Quick,” said Mother. She took out the old rifle and pushed me behind her. The door opened, and there stood my zombified Grandma.
Before Grandma could move, we sent her to Dad.
Next time we visit him, she would probably be there…
© Ronald Hadrian 2024
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August 4, 2024
The case of Dr. Rajesh-A Short Story
The carnations wilted in the vase, their sickly-sweet perfume mingling with the acrid stench of death. I stood in the cramped hostel room, surveying the chaos before me. Detective Vetri’s voice crackled through my phone, dragging me from my Sunday morning stupor.
“Dr. Sanjay, we need you at Greenwood Hostel. Room 302. It’s… unusual.”
I sighed, running a hand through my disheveled hair. “On my way. But Vetri, you owe me a good tea.”
“You can have all the tea in the world, but get here at once,” he replied with a sigh.
I threw on a wrinkled shirt and lose loafers cursing all the way through unforgiving Chennai traffic. Vetri called me only when the case was too unusual for him. Whatever awaited me at Greenwood promised to be interesting.
The hostel loomed before me, a dilapidated five-story building that had seen better days. Yellow police tape cordoned off the entrance, and a small crowd of gawkers had already gathered. I flashed my consultant badge at the uniformed officer and ducked under the tape.
The crime scene buzzed with activity when I arrived on the third floor. Forensic technicians in scurried about, photographing and bagging evidence. The air hummed with tension and the sharp tang of chemicals. In the center of it all lay the victim – Professor Rajesh renowned biochemist at the private university. What made me run to the nearby bathroom was the way his face had erupted.
Vetri greeted me with a grim nod. “Thanks for coming…you didn’t expect such a face…”
I crouched beside the body, my eyes narrowing as I took in the details. No visible wounds, no signs of struggle. Yet the professor’s face was contorted in a rictus of agony, his eyes bulging from their sockets. His fingers clawed at the threadbare carpet, as if he’d tried to crawl away from some unseen horror.
“This is odd indeed,” I said standing up. “Any trace of poison?”
Vetri shook his head. “Tox screen came back clean. It’s like his body just…gave up except for this small vial found in the bathroom.”
“Any suspects?” I asked sweating.
“That’s the thing,” Vetri replied, his brow furrowed. “Half the campus had a motive. The man couldn’t keep it in his pants.”
“Oh then, this will be easy,” Dr. Sanjay stood up. “Did you talk to his students, and colleagues? This will be exciting when my father hears about this.”
Vetri didn’t laugh. Instead, he pulled me aside, lowering his voice. “There’s more, Sanjay. We found this in his desk drawer.”
He handed me a small vial filled with an iridescent liquid. The label bore a chemical formula I didn’t recognize. “This is the same as you found in the bathroom.”
“Any idea what it is?” Vetri asked.
I shook my head. “Not my area of expertise. But I know someone who might be able to help. Let me make a call.”
As Vetri continued to brief me on the details of the case, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d stumbled onto something far more sinister than a simple murder. The professor’s death was just the tip of the iceberg, and I feared what lurked beneath the surface.
Over the next few days, the case took a series of bizarre turns. Professor Rajesh was popular for all the wrong reasons. He had made inappropriate advances, in fact each more shocking than the last. He’d propositioned undergrads, pressured research assistants, and even blackmailed a few into silence. The picture that emerged was of a brilliant mind corrupted by unchecked power and desire.
One name came up often, and she was scholar of Professor Rajesh. Anita was that brilliant student who had known the professor from her undergraduate days. Witnesses placed her at the hostel on the night of the murder, and her academic records showed a particular interest in neuropharmacology.
When we brought her in for questioning she was absolutely scared.She kept mumbling words, and nothing could be gathered from her. We let her rest, and I went alone to ask her what had happened. But this time she was resolute.
“I didn’t do anything, I had the intention to complain about him to the college research committee, but nothing more than that.”
“Why did you want to complain about him,” I asked.
“He wanted favours…”
“What kind of favours?”
She did not respond.
“Miss Anita,” I began, leaning forward in my chair. “Can you tell us about your relationship with Professor Rajesh?”
Anita’s eyes, dark and fathomless, met mine. “Which one?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “I’m sorry?”
A slow smile spread across her face. “Which Professor Rajesh? The brilliant mentor or the lecherous predator?”
“The predator?” I asked wondering if it made any sense.
“I loved my brilliant mentor, not the other one.”
“How is that possible?” I asked curious.
“You won’t understand. He seem to have two personalities.”
“What?”
Just then someone banged on the door. I looked at the worried face of Vetri.
“His body is missing from the morgue?”
Anita’s face turned crimson. “Oh god, I have made a big mistake.”
“Anita,” I said softly, “what have you done?”
Her face crumpled, and for a moment, I glimpsed the scared young woman beneath the bravado. “I only wanted justice,” she whispered. “He hurt so many of us. But the system… it protects men like him.”
I leaned back, my mind racing. “Tell me about the drug, Anita. The one in the vial.”
Anita took a deep breath. “It’s my creation. A neurotransmitter modulator that induces a split personality state. I call it ‘Janus’ after the two-faced god.”
The truth unraveled like a poorly knitted sweater. Anita had developed the drug as part of her thesis project, exploring the nature of consciousness and identity. But as she delved deeper into her research, darker motivations took hold.
“I wanted him to feel what it was like,” she spat, her voice dripping with venom. “To be torn apart, to have no control over your own mind and body.”
“But where is he now?” I asked surprised at the sudden confession of the girl.
“I don’t know. But I never meant for him to die,” Anita whispered, her anger giving way to horror. “I just wanted him to suffer, to understand what he’d done to us.”
As she poured her confession, I felt a deep unease. It is this tingling sensation I have, like a spider weaving its web. I left the room with Vetri.
“I have sent a bunch of policemen to secure the morgue, and we are questioning the authorities there,” Vetri said pushing me to this secure cabin.
I sat down, and wondered about the case. “This is weird,” Vetri said. “The case was almost closed, the girl confessed, but where did the body disappear.”
“Are you sure it is Dr. Rajesh body,” I said feeling hungry.
“What do you mean?” Vetri sat up. “Everyone testified, and the morgue postmortum confirmed the same.”
“Well, I think you better keep the girl for another day.”
“What do you mean?” Vetri asked.
“You promised tea,” I said and walked out.
I rode back to my house in the blistering heat, and I slowed down by street vendor shop. He seemed to have some tender coconut. I sat down and sipped it, when I noticed an odd double coconut it struck me.
I gave cash and rushed to my office, meaning my room, and I logged into google. I searched for some specifics, and it suddenly dawned on me. As I predicted, I got a call from Vetri.
“Hello, is she gone,” I answered immediately.
“yes… but… how.. did you know…” he stammered.
“Listen, get me an ambulance, and pick me up, we are going to Hosur,” I kept the phone down.
I took my laptop, apologised to my dog Agatha, and got my pepper spray. Handy always. The ambulance arrived, my neighbours all looked worried.
“No that old man is fine, “ I assured them, “they are taking me.”
“Why do you have any disease?” asked the old woman by the street water tap.
I wanted to punch her, and take her along with me. But Vetri insisted we leave.
We reached the highways to Hosur as soon as possible.
“What have you found?” Vetri asked anxiously.
“I will explain everything, now ask your men to go undercover to this place”, I showed him my laptop.
“Siddha hospital…” Vetri looked bewildered. “I hope you know what you are doing?”
“But first we are going to a marriage?” I said trying to get some shut eye.
“What?”
“Yes, the marriage of Dr. Rajesh and Anita,” I closed my eyes.
Vetri tried to make sense of it. After 10 minutes, Vetri’s phone buzzed. He was informed that a black car carrying a body had come to the Siddha hospital.
“That is your missing body,” I told him.
We reached the marriage bureau, and waited in the ambulance. After twenty minutes a black car parked in front of the office. Anita and the some other man walked into the office.
Vetri wanted to go and arrest him.
“No wait, something is wrong, this is not Rajesh, “ we need to stop this marriage now.
We rushed in, and Vetri immediately arrested them both. As we headed back to Chennai in the Ambulance, Anita smiled, and asked me.
“How did you know?”
Vetri too wanted explanations.
“Well you gave a tough competition I should say,” I said looking at Anita.
“You are Dr. Rajesh, aren’t you?” Vetri looked stunned.
“What?” he opened wide his mouth.
“Vetri this is what I pieced together,” I started. “Dr. Rajesh was a brilliant student. But he was never comfortable with his body. So what did he do, he went to Mumbai and changed himself, but many do not know that he had a twin brother who was in Coma for the past five years and on him he performed the janus experiment.”
“What is that?” Vetri asked.
“Spitting the personality, during day he would be a different person, and at night a different person, and you experimented the vial on your brother. It worked for sometime, and then he went mad. He came out of coma?” I asked looking at Anita.
“Yes, and it healed him. But his personality had changed. He became a monster. “
“That is when you wanted a lab facility to further your experiment. You brought him here with your credentials, and you became a research scholar here.”
“Yes.”
“That was when you fell in love with this man,” I said.
“Yes.”
“So you plotted this murder of your brother, and escape without anyone knowing your true identity.”
“I thought If my little experiment is dead, everything will be okay. But thanks to you I will be spending it in jail. “
“A new life, a new beginning,” said Vetri finally catching on.
After reaching Chennai, I told Vetri that he had to proceed further with the case. But Vetri took me as he promised to the tea shop. It had started to rain. I sipped my chai and watched the city pulse around me.
“To justice,” I murmured, raising my cup.
Vetri clinked his cup against mine. “And to healing,” he added softly.
As the rich aroma of spices filled the air, I allowed myself a small smile. The case was closed, but our real work was just beginning.
© Ronald Hadrian 2024
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August 3, 2024
Victorian Age Quiz
The post Victorian Age Quiz first appeared on Ronald Hadrian.
July 29, 2024
3 habits the best writers live by:
3 habits the best writers live by:
1) Read
-They read a lot.
-They read everything.
-Sales Copy.
-Novels
-Poetry
-Creative Non fiction.
2. Write more than Read
Sometimes reading can be a way to procrastinate.
Good writers make it a point to write daily, and write more than read is the norm with the great writers.
3. Rewrite
This is the hard part of many writers.
But internet is filled with so much generated content, that one has to learn to rewrite if they have become the best in their niche.
PS: Start writing today. Follow me for more such tips.
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July 25, 2024
Psychoboom – A short Story by Ronald Hadrian
Kafka surveyed the crowded auditorium, his eyes scanning the sea of eager faces. The citizens of New Eden flocked to his Psychoboom classes in a desperate attempt to taste some emotional release in their tightly controlled society.
“Welcome,” he said, his voice echoing through the cavernous space. “Today, we delve into the depths of your psyche.”
The participants looked at him eagerly, hanging on to every word he spoke. While he taught them what was prescribed by the New Eden Society—a series of exercises comprising punching crimson velvet pillows, immersions in frigid water, meditations with negligible dosages of drugs, and carefully orchestrated sexual encounters—he felt void. He did not feel like himself.
As the months progressed, he would see these participants become happy, hysterical, and sad. When they left, they would have lost themselves. The participants were depleted by the numerous emotional catharses so that the NES could install the neuron chip to monitor loyalty and movement of their citizens. The program had started to treat the myriad mental issues bottled up by people. But then things changed.
In the observation room above, Kafka watched the monitors, a gnawing unease growing in his gut. The system’s algorithms tracked every twitch, every elevated heartbeat, categorizing and quantifying the citizens’ responses. He could also monitor his own details, but he knew something was missing. The data showed he was a happy middle-aged adult, but he did not feel that way. There was a feeling that they were lab rats, and it became clear when Kafka’s colleague, Dr. Myrna, approached him with a syringe.
“The new formula,” she whispered. “It’s time for the next phase.”
Kafka hesitated, his hand hovering over the syringe. “Are we certain about this?”
Myrna’s eyes narrowed. “We have no other way, and you were the one who developed these…”
Once he had been assertive, took risks, but now something made him question the new policies.
As the chemical coursed through the ventilation system, Kafka observed the participants’ reactions. Their movements grew erratic, their eyes unfocused. One woman began to sob uncontrollably, while a man in the corner laughed hysterically. The drug would enhance the emotional feeling of the person. Kafka’s stomach churned. This wasn’t healing; it was destruction masquerading as therapy.
He turned to Myrna. “We need to stop this. It’s harming them.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip vise-like. “Remember your place, Kafka. The system knows best. Now switch on the emotional trigger to happiness. I want to see all of them laugh out loud.”
The links connected in the brains could immediately switch the emotional state of a person, and this new drug would enhance it. Kafka had not signed up for this; for the past two years, it was only about emotional therapy, but now it looked a lot more sinister.
Days blurred into weeks as Kafka grappled with his growing doubts. He watched his students deteriorate, their minds fracturing under the weight of the Psychoboom treatments. Then one evening, while he was resting in his room reading about his trillionaire founder, the alarms blared. Kafka knew something had gone bad. Armed guards burst into the room the next minute.
“There has been a breach,” they said as they pulled him. There was no time to dress. His mind was reeling with questions. For years he had worked here, and nothing like this had happened. He was rushed by the guards to the deep room, but as they neared it, one of the guards injected something into his neck. He immediately fainted.
The transport vehicle rumbled through the corridors to the re-education center. When he woke up, he was dressed in white. Dr. Myrna was also in the next bed.
“What is happening?” he said, sitting up straight. The room had a direct view of Earth. Just then, the Leader of New Eden walked in. His cyborg hands were flailing. A trillionaire, a mad genius called X007, the boss of Kafka, had come to meet them.
“Hey Kafka,” he said, surprising him with the familiarity of his own voice. “Lie down, stress will make it worse.”
Kafka didn’t understand what was happening. “You have been successfully installed with my latest secret project, Mem.C,” X007 smiled.
“What?” Kafka asked in anger. “Without my consent?” His anger was growing.
“Whose consent do I need?” X007 jeered. “And this is for your own good…” he trailed off.
“What does it do?” Kafka demanded.
X007 smiled. “Still curious as ever?”
“This chip in your brain can do a clean memory sweep. Think about it. All the guilt, pain, everything gone in a moment,” he kept smiling.
“But then why the emotional enhancers?” Kafka asked, perplexed.
“I’ll tell you, as you’ll forget all this,” X007 smiled again.
“The idea was simple: insert chips into your brain, switch emotions at will, and enhance using drugs to make you take action on the emotion,” he explained.
“Don’t you remember the flying pigs projects in which we drove the participants to suicide?” he smiled.
“Did we?” Kafka was unsure.
“Yes, but now we have a better way. Wipe their memory, then install instructions. Psychoboom without any casualties.”
There was an awkward silence for a minute.
“How could you do this, you piece of shit?” Kafka’s face changed as memories started flooding in.
X007 stood up. “Goodbye Kafka, you will not remember me, once again.”
He strolled out of the room, watching the Earth revolving miles away.
While alone in his office, he shredded Kafka’s photo. He thought about the mad genius visiting him and asking him to develop a chip and a drug to enhance emotions. What Kafka didn’t understand was that X007 had already developed the Mem.C chip. Once he arrived in the newly constructed Moon office, miles away from Earth, he said he was administering the emotion chip, but really he gave everyone, including his boss, the Mem.C chip, hijacking his identity.
He called himself the founder of Psychoboom.
Now, once again, he would reset all their memories and leave the Moon.
A beep was heard. “Project Nuke is ready to go, sir.”
The Moon would soon become bloody.
X007 walked out and boarded his spaceship, heading to Earth. The sound of the Moon blasting was mute in space. As the ship neared Earth, X007 connected with the satellites. Before 100 years, he was used for writing draft letters, creating images, and being an assistant for humans.
“What a bunch of fools?” He smiled.
The Common Era had ended; the AI era had begun.
© Ronald Hadrian 2024
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July 23, 2024
Romantic Age Quiz
The post Romantic Age Quiz first appeared on Ronald Hadrian.
July 22, 2024
Are we chasing the wrong things?
Are we chasing the wrong things?
I used to believe money was the key to joy.
Fame seemed like the ultimate validation.
Security felt like the path to contentment.
But I was wrong.
My real happiness comes from simpler things.
—A good book that transports me to another world.
—A peaceful walk that clears my mind.
—Writing that helps me express my thoughts.
These bring me more joy than any paycheck.
Yet, society pushes us towards wealth and fame.
We often ignore what truly fulfills us.
Want to find your own happiness?
Try these steps:
↳1. List what genuinely makes you smile.
↳2. Spend 30 minutes daily on one of those activities.
↳3. Reflect on how it affects your mood.
You might be surprised by what you discover.
What makes you truly happy?
Ps: Follow me for such posts.
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July 17, 2024
The Mysterious Visitor from Zealandia- Short story by Ronald Hadrian
Colin Redding stood in his ephemeral form before the council of inter-dimensional Zealandia ministry pleading his case.
“He is back,” he cried out. “Why won’t you believe me?”
Give us a detailed, objective report on what happened.
*
Reporter: Colin Redding
September 10, 1939
Private Ryan Barker stood still on the coral-strewn shore as his comrade’s blood tinged the sands crimson. His friend was moaning in pain, and there was no help except the never-ending dark ocean. The last news they had heard was that Hitler’s troops were heading towards Poland. They were stranded on an island near Japan, and the island was filled with mines. His friend had stepped on one and had lost a leg, and Ryan, in desperation, had carried him to the shore. But there was no one—no airplanes, no ships, and no man in his vicinity.
The wind blew, carrying the wet smell of blood. Ryan thought about the frailty of life as he removed his heavy backpack, his shoulder aching and his legs screaming with pain. He took out the old camera he had and took photos of his friend and the wide ocean. He knew he would be dead before anyone came for him. He welcomed death. He looked at his friend and, unable to help him in any way, stood up and screamed. The sound was muted as fresh waves crashed at his feet. He thought about his family and how he would never see them again. He sat down, his spirit broken.
Just then, an ember light appeared a short distance from the shore. It grew bigger like a portal, and a swishing sound came as it opened. A man was tossed into the ocean, and the light disappeared. Ryan Barker stood up, blinking his eyes.
Am I hallucinating? But he was not. The waves carried a gigantic man to the shore. An eerie glow surrounded his body. He did not move, and on his forehead was the symbol of an anchor. His body was carved without even a single loose muscle. Ryan did not need another dead man now. He shook him to see if he would move. On his right wrist was a small glowing green bracelet, and Ryan quickly pulled it off and slid it inside his bag. He did not know why he did it, but something came over him, and he did it. He once again went back to his friend and gave him a sip of water, then turned around to see the man standing upright, looking at him keenly.
“Hi…” Ryan stood up, scared.
The man spoke in a gargling voice, and he spoke a language that Ryan had never heard.
“I don’t understand,” Ryan moved closer to him. The man became frustrated and shouted something in his language. Ryan did not know how to respond.
“Do you speak English?” Ryan asked, now closer to the man, and he noticed how bluish his eyes were. The pupils were missing, and Ryan immediately knew that this man was not able to see.
“Yes,” he said. “Who are you?” he asked.
“I am a soldier, Ryan Barker,” he said, closely looking at this strange man.
“Who is that?” He asked, pointing at Ryan’s dying friend. “I sense agony.”
“Can’t you see? He’s missing a leg,” said Ryan.
“I cannot see anything except heat registration,” he said. “This is not my land. I am from Zealandia.”
Ryan looked at him and wondered if he was telling the truth. “Why did you come here?”
“I was banished from my land,” he said, a string of sadness could be understood. “And where is my braclet.” He was desperate again.
He walked towards the agonized soldier. He knelt down and touched his blood-oozing leg. The leg healed instantly. Ryan was shocked to see his friend stand up without any pain. He took out his camera and took a photo of this mysterious man.
“So you are at war?” He sat down.
“Yes, a bloody war,” said Ryan. His friend did not talk; even though he was healed, he was too stunned to see this man.
“What is your name?” Ryan finally asked.
“That is not important. Your rescue is coming,” he said as he stood up and then…
July 13, 2022
The grandson of Ryan Barker decided to clean the attic. He found an old box of his grandfather’s belongings. He opened it and found diaries and photos. He knew his grandfather had a lot of photos of the war, and they must be valuable in some way. He was a professor of War Strategy, and COVID had shut down the university.
As he went through the things, he noticed a postcard, and the words at the top made him pause.
“Zealandia – the 8th continent?” And below that, there was a photo of a gigantic man.
“Who is this man?” Tom Barker ruminated. “And what the hell is Zealandia?”
There was also a small box carefully placed at the bottom of the box. He took it and opened it without thinking much. It was a weird old bracelet, green with some markings on it.
He put it back into the box and wondered about his new findings. His grandfather had twice traveled to Japan, and he did not tell the reason. Everyone assumed that he was traveling for vacation, but he was interested in something or someone other than a vacation. By that evening, he once again took the box to his study. He opened the box and searched for the bracelet. He put it on his wrist and examined the markings. It was a script he had never seen. As he looked at the photo, he saw how the man looked different from his grandfather. Even in this black and white picture, it was clear that he had a different eye color.
“Maybe a native,” Tom assumed.
Tom’s phone buzzed, and there was someone gasping for breath on the other side.
“Hello,” repeated Tom, trying to understand what was being said.
“Professor, your grandfather was spotted in Japan,” the voice echoed. It was his Ph.D. scholar. Colin Redding.
“What? He’s dead?” Tom stood up.
“No sir, positive. I saw him! I took a picture. Let me send it over to you.”
Tom zoomed in and was certain that it was his grandfather. But how could this be possible? He did not have any time. He bought a flight ticket and waited at the airport. He had taken the bracelet and also the photo of the mysterious man. On the flight, he could not sleep; his head was filled with disturbing dreams. He dreamed of a green portal opening in the sky, and his flight was going into another world. This was a place he could not have imagined. Everything was different; the buildings, the energy felt pure. But something was wrong with the place.
“Sir, wake up,” someone woke him up by jerking him.
“Something is glowing in your pocket, sir,” said the flight attendant, concerned.
He took out the bracelet, and it was glowing green. It was growing brighter. “It’s just a gadget,” he lied. He put it in his bag and wondered what was happening. The flight landed, and he booked into a hotel and closely examined the bracelet. He had called Colin, and they were going to meet in two hours.
The bracelet was now vibrating as though it was close to something. Like a magnet right before it pushes forward to be attached to another magnet. He put on the bracelet, and he started to feel a vibration coursing through him. He felt so powerful. He could think, and that would happen. He experimented with switching off the big plasma TV, and it happened.
Tom was excited. This had some power that he couldn’t describe. Did his grandfather know about this? Did he use it? He quickly understood its limitations. It could manipulate things around him, but he could not create any matter. He could move objects, and he knew there should be more to it. Just then, his scholar came to meet him.
He looked flustered, but once he saw the glowing bracelet, he sat silently.
“Where did you get that?” Colin asked watching closely.
“My grandfather had it,” Tom answered, removing it. “My grandfather seemed to have hidden many things from us.”
“Yes,” he gave a weak smile.
“But how is this possible? I checked his cemetery before coming here; everything seemed to be… well, undisturbed.”
“Sir, can I have a look at your bracelet?” he stretched out his hands.
Tom was hesitant, but he gave it. The bracelet turned red, and it started to vibrate.
“Sir, I want to show you something,” he stood up. Red waves formed a mirror. Tom, flabbergasted, looked at him. They both could see his grandfather standing over a wounded soldier. A portal opened, and a man washed ashore. He woke up and spoke to his grandfather, then he went to the wounded soldier, and in an instant, only his skeleton with patches of flesh was left as green flames scorched him.
“No, no, that is not what I read in my grandfather’s account, and who are you?” Tom stood. His scholar looked at him with sadness. What he witnessed next made him puke. His grandfather was burned with a green flame, and the man who stood beside him changed into his grandfather.
“What… what… what happened?”
“He turned into your grandfather…”
“So I am….”
“Yes…” That is the reason the bracelet vibrates when you hold it. Only to a Zealandian can yield their power.
“Then you are…” Tom now looked terrified.
“Yes, I am,” he smiled. “I have been undercover, as you say, in your land for some time.” It is time to capture a man called Ryan,” he stood up.
Tom looked at him as he opened the portal, and they both stepped in. Precisely after 22 seconds, they stepped out onto the beach.
“The man pretending to be your grandfather, but he is your grandfather,” he scratched his head. “He is a rebel banished from my land to your land. In my place, we call him Viridis. He wants to take revenge….”
Colin once again used the bracelet and opened the portal, and shouted.
“Come, my infernal beasts!”
Two humongous saber-toothed tigers stepped out. They also had armor over them.
“Go find him,” Colin commanded. They sniffed the air and ran into the dense forest.
“This must all be too much for you,” Colin smiled. Ten minutes passed, and Colin became agitated. “What is taking those beasts so long?”
Tom looked over the shore, and there was the man dragging something, and he looked like his grandfather. Colin grimaced as Viridis threw the corpses of the beasts.
“Viridis, the high council is willing to consider your petition,” Colin said.
“Oh, is that so,” he said, “and what if I don’t return?”
“Then your grandson will die,” Colin waved his hands, and red flames moved and hurried towards Tom.
Tom was filled with fear. “Is this man going to kill me?” Just then Viridis stepped in, his green ember glow brightening. “Tom I hope you have practiced with your bracelet, now think what you want to do to him…” he handed a new bracelet. Tom put it on and black waves erupted from his hands. An energy causing a tornado. As a professor of War Startegy he always knew a great battle was won without fighting.
The powerful tornado caged Colin, and Viridis let out his green flames to burn up Colin. After two minutes everything became quiet, a red flare opened a portal, and he escaped.
“Is he dead?” Tom asked, looking at his grandfather, totally confused.
“Zealandian’s don’t die that easily, and Don’t fear, I won’t kill you,” he said reassuringly.
“But you killed my grandfather…” Tom’s said it with anger. He did not answer. “You will understand someday, but you are not his heir. You are mine. But now I am going to Zealandia, and you will know what to do. We will reign once more.”
He disappeared into the portal, leaving Tom alone on the shore. The bracelet lay on the sand.
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