Ronald Hadrian's Blog, page 15

The internet is an enticing place.

The internet is an enticing place.

Do you wander aimlessly on it?

One tool that provides a purposeful surfing experience is Omnivore.

All the interesting articles, videos, and newsletters can all be saved here. (Cool, right?)

You don’t need to visit all your favourite sites for updates. All the updated apps are right there at Omnivore. Plus, Omnivore offers a seamless and organised way to access all of your favourite content in one place.

You can simply log into Omnivore on your computer or mobile device and read.

PS: You can highlight and add notes as well.

Try Omnivore; it is a completely free app.

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Overcoming Failure

→ A learning experience You can see loss as a way to get better, not as something that gets in the way of your progress.→ Developing an open mind Accepting that loss is a normal part of learning can make you more resilient, creative, and successful in the end.→ Building mental flexibility. Approaching the loss with an open mind and a desire to learn can help us become more resilient.

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Dante and Beatrice by Ronald Hadrian

“Good morning, Mr. Abishek, you are early today?” the museum curator welcomed a man in an expensive tuxedo. 

“I couldn’t sleep, the painting of Beatrice haunted me,” Abishek said, following the curator. 

“Yes, sir, that painting has that eccentric enchantment to it,” he said, taking him inside a secret vault. 

“Why do the rich get to enjoy everything? Even art is exclusive to them, “ asked Abishek. 

“Sir, imagine you standing in Lourve trying to see Monolisa; I am sure you will glance at her elegant face just for a few seconds, “ the curator bolted the huge valut behind him. “It will get chilly, sir,” the curator smacked on a keyboard. “This facility is top secret,” the curator said, looking at Abishek earnestly, trying to guess his thoughts. 

“I know, I just want to see her for a minute,” reassured Abishek. 

The curator left him alone. 

The room was elegant, and the frescoes of the modern tall building were painted as though Michael Angelo would have done. Abishek looked at the elegant art of Beatrice, and the longing gaze of Dante precisely for 5 minutes. His Rolex watch was beginning to freeze. Suddenly the room started to wobble, and the curator shouted. 

“Sir, the Richter readings are plummeting—an earthquake somewhere nearby. This facility will not be able to stand it if a tsunami is to be triggered,” said the curator. “You have to leave now, otherwise, the launch pad would be under ocean waves.”

Abishek only smiled. “You can leave; if I am to die, let me die watching the beautiful face of Beatrice.”

“You are mad, sir,” the curator left. 

The warning bell started to ring. Abishek took a deep breath and looked at his Rolex once again.  He looked at Beatrice’s face keenly, and he got to work. With softisticated moves and experienced hands, he removed the painting. He took the painting and rushed to the lift. The warning bells echoed in the distance as the lift gradually moved up the ocean. The view, as usual, was spectacular. The serene ocean life did not seem serene anymore. The plan he hatched meant sacrificing some sea horses, turtles, and lots of fish. He silently whispered a sorry to them. 

“You will all be washed in a faraway place. Some of you will lose your family as well. “

As he said these words, he came to the deck. His private jet was hovering. A drone let out a magnetic container. Abishek kept the painting in the container and gave it a thumbs up. The drone flew away, and another rope was thrown down the private jet. He clung to it and noticed the waves rising in the distance. The wind’s sheer force swung him wildly.

“Perfect,” he smiled as the waves crashed into the secret facility. But he was safely seated in his comfy private seat, keenly observing his tablet. 

The seismic wave blinked on his screen, and after a minute, he fell asleep. 

The next day, he woke up and struggled to find his glasses. 

“Hello Abi, Good morning. You have an email?” Flashed on his glass screen. 

The destruction that he caused was minimal. Not much had happened. He was happy about it. The blue, clean sky welcomed him as he streched himself on the swimming pool. He thought about his latest heist, and he was proud of it. The recurring dreams have not stopped, though. The face of Beatrice kept  following him throughout the day. 

It has been years since he saw her. The smell of her cologne was still strong in his memory. Just a glimpse of her eyes would be enough. He knew what he had to do. Abishek got dressed and went to the John F Kennedy airport. It has been years since he went back to India. The nostalgia returned. For years, he was afraid to go back. It has been precisely 20 years. She should be old now. Even though he vowed never to see her again, he knew her whereabouts. Being a criminal mastermind required constant vigilance on his part.

The new India was nothing different than most of the European cities now. The same tech, roads, and infrastructure. Everything seemed to be the same. He got a self driving car for rent and went to the architecture college in Delhi. It has not changed since leaving the place. He had left the place in a hurry. Abishek went to his old department, and the eerie silence bothered him. He had a plan in mind, but he didn’t know if the plan would work or not. The clerk outside the department noticed him coming and rushed towards him. 

“How may I help you?” He asked. 

“I want to meet Ms. Thangum,” Abishek said. 

His stomach lurched, and he betrayed his fear. 

“And you, and what is the reason you want to visit her?” He inquired without interest. 

“Tell her I am Anil Rajesh; she will know.”

The clerk was not impressed with the name, and that was clear. After a few minutes, he invited Abishek into the cabin. The room was vacant, and there was no one there. 

“Where is Madam?” He asked, looking puzzled. 

“She will be right back.”

He waited for a long time in the dingy classroom. He imagined the same face he had seen would emerge, but that did not happen. The world’s great mafia leader was waiting for a college professor. 

After an hour, the clerk came back and said, “She is asking you to come tomorrow. She will not be able to see you now.”

After all these years, the pain has returned. Abishek stood up, and waited for a minute. 

“Hey, I have a small present in the car for madam. Could you give her. I will give you a good tip as well.”

The clerk immediately followed him. 

He had a small trunk with a sophisticated password screen. 

“The password is 9152,” said Abishek, and he left. 

The old lady, who had loved this painting as a young person, was shocked to find a robbed painting on her department canvas. She asked plenty of questions about the person who had given her. Just when she figured out, a video call rang frantically. She swiped and saw the same old man she left years ago.

“You told me you wanted this painting when we met in the museum. I couldn’t buy it, though. I robbed a maniacal art dealer. So I won’t be alive much longer. I just wanted to see your eyes once again looking at Beatrice,” he said, giving a shallow smiled. His eyes were brimming with tears. “Goodbye…” 

The line went blank. 

The next day headlines read, “A private jet to the Caribbean blew up in the middle of the sky…”

Copyrighted @ Ronald Hadrian

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🌟 Excited to share my secret to endless inspiration! 🌟

Excited to share my secret to endless inspiration!

As a seasoned writer, I know the struggle of running out of ideas all too well. But fear not! I’ve found a solution that keeps my creativity flowing endlessly. Introducing… *drumroll*… my magic box!

Using Amplenote, I’ve created a special space where all my ideas come to life. I call it my magic box because, well, it truly works wonders!

Whenever I stumble upon captivating ideas, whether it’s from articles, posts, or even photos, I swiftly capture them. With a quick screenshot or copy-paste, I deposit these gems into my magic box.

So, the next time I find myself in a creative rut, I simply open up my magic box, and voila! Inspiration awaits. It’s like diving into a treasure trove of endless possibilities.

I invite you to join me in embracing the magic of idea banking! Let’s keep the creativity flowing and the ideas sparking.

#WritingInspiration #CreativityUnleashed #AmplenoteMagic #IdeaBank #SparkYourImagination

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To the Lighthouse-Ronald Hadrian

The evening wind gathered pace as I got out of the car. I have, for a long time now, thought about taking a break from work. It seemed to be the only plausible way to destress my already burdened heart. Things have all gone awry. The emptiness filled the very marrow of my bones.

The single most decisive thing I had ever done since she left me was to book this weekend in this remote lighthouse by the sea.  I didn’t know why, but I wanted to go to that lighthouse.

It seemed like the right place to go to heal or just to be depressed without my nagging coworkers who annoy me with their giggles. But I know they might laugh and frolic, but in the middle of the night, they too want to go to a lighthouse and cry it out.

They warned me about the wind, but I really didn’t know how strong it would be. I had a hard time keeping the car door open; it was like the wind closing the doors for me. It did not seem to be happy with my arrival. The guardian who stays in a small shack a mile away came peddling in his rickety bicycle and stopped beside my luggage.

“You alone?” He blinked, chewing taboo.

“Yes,” I said, staring at him blankly.

“Lovers come here often; nice lonely place; make love as the wind howls,” he said with a naughty laugh.

I did not laugh. I couldn’t tell him my real intentions.

“Or they come to get away from something…” he trailed off, seeing my uninterested look.

“Let me take the luggage for you then,” he stumbled and struggled. The lighthouse was neat, and as we climbed the stairs, I noticed the plaster on the walls.

“The wind here is a nasty fellow,” he heaved as he let my luggage sit by the cupboard. “ He breaks windows, topples the boats, and carries away my hat now and then.”

After a few minutes, he left me by myself. I lay on the bed, listening to the wind blowing hard. I got up after about a minute and looked out of the window. The clouds were gathered high over the horizon. I wished for summer again, but now it was too late.

I cleared the desk, which had a small portrait of a sailor, and I threw my bag and took out all the things I had packed. Not much packing was done; except for a pair of trousers and sweaters, nothing was worth bothering to  care about at the lighthouse.

But I brought to the Lighthouse a lot of poetry anthologies.

I knew I would not be able to read here, but at least when they come and find me. I will be found with some decent books beside me.

The calm, briny beach waves echoed in the distance. I waited until the sun set, I made a hot cup of tea, and made my way to the beach. The waves started to come forward as night drew near, and the moon was pulling the sea by her hair. He wanted the sea so bad, I guess, like I wanted her.

I stood there looking at the waves, and within 10 minutes, the salty waves came to touch my feet. I started to find stones, big ones, and I shoved them inside my pockets. I did this for another half an hour until the weight in my pocket made my walk difficult.  Only when the waves started to splash on my face did the realisation occur. I was walking into the deep sea. I was going to die. Things were going into the dark abyss of life. Then comes the nightmare, the scream. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.

I thought of her face, her eyes, and the way she leaned on my shoulder, and now some man held her tight as these thoughts bombarded me. Then I knew what was going to happen; I heard a scream from the distance. The wind howled and carried waves to new heights. Things all went hazy, and there was no overcoming it. Then I realised what had happened. A small boy was struggling in the water.

I had to save him, and then I could die. I plunged forward, and I knew his hands were flaying in desperation. I pulled him back to the shore.  The wind blows harder now. I looked at him; he must be around 6 years old.  A small fellow was looking at the sand in a dazed condition.  What is happening here ? The boy seemed to be looking like someone I know. I knew a lot before.

What was he doing here, and how did he come here?

What is your name?

He didn’t answer.

I don’t have a name. He suddenly said it after 10 minutes.

The annoying feeling of not being able to accomplish a task came over me. Even I was procrastinating to die. I took the shivering boy back to the lighthouse. I threw the stones that I had gathered in my pocket. My plan of dying must be put to halt at present, I thought.

I made him sit and asked if he lied about hot tea. I made some tea, and I looked at him closely.

“I have a funny feeling about you, I blurted, looking at him closely. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I was sleeping, and all of a sudden, I came here.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes”

“Am I in a dream?” I asked the boy.

“I don’t know; am I in a dream?”

“Where are your parents?”

“They had gone on a business trip, but I was at my grandma’s house,” he said, sipping the tea now. “I was bitten by a dog this afternoon on my knees; look,” he said, pointing at the scar.

I knew what happened that day. I raised my trousers to show my scar. “Hey, you are me?” I stared at him.

“So this is how I looked when I was little,” I blurted.

The little boy couldn’t comprehend what had happened. It was midnight now, and I sat beside the boy, not talking much. Now, how did this happen?  I kept asking the question again and again. Then I heard someone knocking on the door. The boy looked at me, frightened.

I stood up, looked at him assuringly, and made my way to the door. The wind blew through the key hole. I opened the door slightly, just in case.

A completely wet man stood, and it was me, maybe a year ago.

“What?”

I pulled him in.

“How did you come here?”

He did not speak. He must be in shock, without doubt.

“You look like me,” he said finally.

“Yes, I noticed. It is because I am you. Now meet our younger selves.”

He jumped back. “How is this possible?”

“I don’t know; I hope I am dreaming. But what were you doing before you came here?”

“She just told me about her marriage; I was shocked. I sat in the train station, and then I was swept here, and I almost drowned.”

I made some hot tea for him as well. I knew what he was going through. He didn’t want to talk any more.

It was three by this time. I was feeling sleepy, and just then another knock was heard. I didn’t know who was coming this time.

I hesitated to open the door. This time it was an old man with whiskers, but it was undoubtedly my old self. I let him in, and he did not speak to me. He walked up the stairs like he had known the place for a long time. He sat beside the boy and looked at me and the other girl.

The wind howled more.

He looked at the clock.

“I wish you lived your fragment of life well,” he said. He took a gun out of his pocket and held it to the boy.  “If he died, all of this nonsense would not have happened.”

“What do you mean?”

This lighthouse does not show the way to lost ships; it attracts lost souls. Those souls that are lost at sea are given another chance to live. The boy died in an accident, then he came here. The lighthouse gave it another chance. And then you died, and you came here, and it gave you another chance. Now I have come.”

“What, when did I die? I asked the other me.

“The train station; you jumped after the breakup.”

“But I never died,” I asked, bewildered. “And now you are here?” I asked, not understanding anything.

“I died peacefully at home tonight,” he sighed, “and you will die now.”

The old man took out the gun and shot me.  The pain seared through my chest. I thought about her eyes one last time and fell in front of myself.

*

An old college professor walked into the doctor’s chamber. “How did it go?”

“The patient is recovering well. Our AIVBT is doing well,” said the doctor.

“The movie inside his head would have done the trick. He confronted his past, present, and future like an old scrooge. This will change him to lead a better life.”

Note: AIVBT is arithmetical intelligence visual brain therapy.

copyright Ronald Hadrian.

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“𝗡𝗼𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘁𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀,” 𝘀𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝗮𝗻 𝘂𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘁

Last week I was handling class for a group of vibrant girls. They are about to complete college and they wanted to know the next step. I stopped taking class and plunged into discussing their future.

By conversing with them I understood they did not have a clue about:

-Career options

-Higher Education

-Life skills like Money Management or Time Managment

This is the problem I faced in my college as well. As a M.A graduate I didn’t have an inkling about the future path. No one insisted the importance of NET/ JRF exams. No one took time to say the opportunities in Higher Education with a JRF.

The Professors did not take time to know our uniqueness, and they did not give us options on what we could do in life.

I wanted to help the girls. I talked about PHD, premier institutions, and also other career options.

So, if you are student or a professional at the crossroads learn from:

* Podcasts

* YouTube

* Experts

* Mentors

Complaining or giving reasons is not the way to be successful. Information is free. Use it well.

PS: Follow me or DM’s if you want advice. I will do the best I can.

#college #growth #students

The post “𝗡𝗼𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘁𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀,” 𝘀𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝗮𝗻 𝘂𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗲 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹. first appeared on Ronald Hadrian.

Have you thought about good writing? 😀

Have you thought about good writing?

Have you considered how it should make readers feel?

Is your writing helping the reader act?

Writing will make the reader ‘think, feel and act.”

Think

Make the reader think about the topic you are writing about. Merely give out information that is mundane.

Feel

Make people feel. When they have read your copy, they should be happy, sad, or intrigued by the facts.

Act

Make them act on what they have read. Let them take action.

Follow Follow me for more writing content

P.S.: I do two major writing projects in a year. One slot is remaining. If you want me to ghostwrite a bestselling novel, or non-fiction book for an affordable price, DM me.

#writing #personalbranding #linkedin

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Save 1 to 2 hours every day using this app.

-There are tools for writing

-There are tools for editing

-Tools for research

All these tools make the lonely task of writing fruitful.

For the past 8 months I have been using an awesome app called ample note.

Yes, I am still an ardent supporter of Notion.

But Ample note has helped me in keeping things simple.

For instance, ample note has a structure that enables me to do work in an efficient manner.

Before, I used to have an app for notetaking, a special app for calendar, and also notes.

I always look for simplicity.

The best way to capture, take notes, and assign tasks is through many apps.

But Ample Note came to the rescue. It has all the features.

1) Jots.

When you come across a cool quote or have an idea you can note it down here.

2)Notes

Ideas can be expanded in this section with quotes and internal links to other notes. Quite handy.

3) Tasks

Make the ideas into actionable tasks.

4) Calendar

Block time to complete the tasks.

The cool thing about ample note is that it is easier to capture, make notes, make tasks, and also put it in the calendar.

It is 4 apps in one.

It might seem a little daunting, but for knowledge management, this is a brilliant app.

Give it a try:

The link to the app is on the comments section-

PS: Do you want me to talk about more of the tech apps I use to enhance writing?

#amplenote #notetaking #success

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5 awesome lessons about creativity I learned from Pablo Picasso:

5 awesome lessons about creativity I learned from Pablo Picasso:

His legendary paintings have generated over 500$ M in revenue.

Here are 5 things we can learn from the legendary artist.

1) Creativity and innovation

Picasso pushed boundaries. He did not confine himself to traditional styles. He explored things, and he paved the way to new artistic horizons.

2) Fearlessness and risk-taking:

He was bold. Took daring steps into uncharted areas of artistic exploration.

3) Persistence and Determination:

He fuelled his craft with artistic excellence. He dedicated countless hours to refining his skills. That made him a master.

4) Constant Exploration:

He tried new things on a consistent basis. He welcomes new challenges.

5) Legacy:

His modern art left an enduring legacy. They transcend time.

If you are building anything new, follow the relentless aspiration to excellence.

Ps: Follow this lesson and repost this post.

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Brat Bard Banjo and his Revenge by Ronald Hadrian

The scorching heat beams from two suns penetrated the atmosphere and reflected on the flat and shiny head of the security guard in front of me. 

“You know what, You can earn extra silver by acting as a mirror for these wonderful women whose make up is melting right this minute,” I said sheepishly. 

The man did not take the joke well. I was once again moved back in line. 

“You will never meet the officer,” he scowled, “for another 10 moons.”

The Ministry of Insurance for Accidental Magical Mishaps has been busy for the last three years. I have been here fifteen times in the last six months, and my house has been rebuilt over 15 times.  Thanks to the loony wizard. 

You see, something happened to this wizard, and everything went loony with him. The last thing he did before leaving this dragon-forsaken place was to curse it with rain. Not the sort of rain made up of hydrogen and oxygen, but random stuff.

Last time, it rained boots. Lots of boots. Before that, it rained tumblers, dragon skins, dogs, and cats. Literally dogs and cats. All the houses are damaged, one way or another. People still have to file a petition with the ministry. Following the petition, a gang of peculiar men would be sent to the house to examine the damages. Then they would send their observations to some unknown office. From the unknown office, a random wizard is notified, and he comes and repairs the damages in a jiffy. 

I am here reluctantly waiting to meet the officers for another insurance claim. But the truth is, I am really not in need of any insurance. I can call any quack wizard to fix my house. It will be quicker and more effective, but neighbours will start wondering. 

In fact I heard the rumours already. They want to know what job I do to afford to keep a pet fire breathing hen in our house.  My mother is not aware of my jobs either. All she knows is that I do some remote work in the basement with a portable portal to other worlds. It is true that I work with the portal, but she does not have a clue how I make my money. Even tonight, I am going on a wild sales call. 

“Mother, I am home,” I shout and enter my den, locking the door behind me. 

Under the portable trunk, which can hold an inventory of over 500 tonnes of things, I stuff the latest goods.  The latest goods are the boots. 

The wizard’s curse has helped me amass humongous wealth. 

The magical rain of weird stuff is taken by the palace men. But I collect the goods and shove them inside my portable trunk. And I hop into my portal and sell it to non magic folks in the other dimension at a place called Walmart. Pretty straight forward business. 

Once it rained diamonds, man, I collected so many and sold them for a fortune. But their money is of no use here. I then had to buy gold and smuggle it into this world, and selling gold without the king’s seal is a tricky business. 

But with boots, I have another plan. I am going to sell them and buy umbrellas. These fools would buy anything that would protect their heads from random objects landing on them. 

The non magic world is quite today. They are celebrating something called the New Year. I have spoken to lots of dealers about these fantastic boots. They have promised plenty of sales this holiday season. As I was leaving the restaurant, I met an old man, and this meeting made me a pauper. 

“Hello there, you seem to be barefoot. This is not good, you have to buy my boots,” I smiled. 

He peered at me without flinching. 

“Is that so?” 

“Yes…yes” 

“I will give you 50 % off.”

“Where do you make these wonderful boots?” He asked. 

“They are from a foreign country,” I said, annoyed with his questions.

“Which country?” 

“France,” I lied. 

Usually no one asks me so many questions. This man was making me feel like a common thief. 

“From Hiron you mean to say,” he coughed, and my insides gurgled. “How did you know, are you a wizard?”

“Yes, the very wizard who put this curse, on I am the great Brat Bard Banjo.”

I was silent. 

Millions of thoughts ran through my mind. Am I going to prison? What if my mother comes to know about my illegal business.

“My curse, has been a blessing for you?” Bard Banjo asked. 

“Yes, really cool stuff falls from the sky,” I said smiling yet nervous. 

“Didn’t they find a counter curse to stop the rain,” he asked me blankly. 

“No, they couldn’t. You are a legend,” I said, trying to cajole him. 

“I will let you go if you will help me with a task,” he said bluntly. 

Was he going to make stuff rain in this non magic world too? “What is the task?”

You have to kidnap a man. 

“Who do you want me to kidnap?” I was shocked. 

“The King, of course.” 

“The King! You must be joking!”

“No, I am not, Next full moon, somehow mix a potion in his drink.” 

“I don’t know how, but I will try”

“Do you know why I put a curse in the first place?” The wizard asked suddenly. 

“No, there are several stories.”

“Do you want to know the reason?”

“Yes.”

“It was because of that princess”

“I knew there was a girl involved,” I smiled. 

“Do you want to hear my story or not?” Brat Bard Banjo looked angry.

“Okay go ahead, I am listening.”

“I loved a girl dearly for many years, but she was the princess, and I was an ordinary hocus pocus man. She used to admire all my magic, “ Brat Bard Banjo started to narrate the story. “You know I even presented with Roses of Eternal Spell, the rarest rose in the universe. That rose fragrance can bring everything around her back to life. And my songs of love, but then something happened. I was only a wizard, and she was a princess. (Lot of Ego, by the way). She, till the last minute, never told me her intention. All of a sudden, I heard about her marriage.”

This was tragic, but I listened. 

“I confronted her on a damned rainy day, and I asked her, “Why not me… am I not worthy?” She did not reply. She got on the horse with the stranger and rode away, and in that rage, I cursed. I cursed the rain,” he shouted. 

That seemed intense. But I had to thank the princess. I won’t be rich without her. “Now, how may I help you?” I finally asked this silent man. 

“All these years I pondered, and finally I perfected a powerful spell. But I need your help to perform it. You have to slip this potion to the king by next full moon. :

I was not comfortable with his proposition. 

“I am going to reverse time for that rainy day. I am going to change things. No more curse rain.”

“What will I do?” 

“Help me, and I will reward you.”

This seemed like a good deal, and I was honestly sick of visiting the insurance ministry. Finally we would have normal rain. 

I used all the tricks up the sleeves to get access to the Kings Kitchen, and mix the potion he gave me. I barely escaped the guards. 

After a week, the wizard asked me to come to the palace grounds by midnight, when it rained as usual.  A week rolled by, and  I was sleeping when I heard thunder rumbling in the distance.  I became anxious about the thing that was about to fall from the sky, but it started to rain. Real rain. Sputtering sent splashing.. then I realised what was happening..  I opened my secret trap door and noticed all the gold was gone in the Trunk. Time had reversed. All of a sudden after years of raining,. Water started to kiss the parched earth. I stood there, watching the wizard and the girl argue. Poor wizard, how his heart might have broken on that day. 

The princess waited and waited. But the other person did not come. The princess walked back into the castle and never looked back. The wizard, with tears in his eyes, walked straight towards me.

“So you came for your reward.”

“Yes.”

 He handed me my fire breathing chicken and a bag of Gold. 

“Hey this is my pet chicken” 

 Good night said the wizard and went away without answering me. 

After a  year  I woke up as someone was knocking on the door. 

It was the wizard. But now he was an old man. I had sold the gold, and made a fortune for myself. 

“Yes, where is the chicken?” He asked. 

“Uh… feast. ..”

“What feast?” Bard Banjo looked stunned. 

The chicken went biserk after a week. He was blowing up everything. I had to once again go to the insurance. Finally my mother made a feast out of him. 

Brat Bard Banjo went silent. 

“I put a amnesia spell on the princess on that night. I made her forget me and that other person,” Brat Bard Banjo looked intently at me. “Didn’t you wonder what happened to the other person?”

“No” I was beginning to wonder now. 

“Well it does not matter.”

“Hey Bard tell me,”

“You and your mother killed him and had a feast.”

Copyrighted Ronald Hadrian 2024.

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