Ronald Hadrian's Blog, page 9
November 9, 2024
Uncle, meet our new friends—A short Story by Ronald Hadrian
Jagadesh felt relieved. The long weekend had arrived, and the nagging manager would not call him for the next three days. All he had to do was babysit his nieces, and he had downloaded a book about managing kids, so he knew this was going to be a piece of cake. But alas, he did not know about the others in the house.
“We will be back by night,” his elder sister said as she picked up her bag. “Keep an eye on them always; last week they let a chicken drown.”
“Okay,” Jagadesh said, confident of his skills. If he ever had kids of his own, he would teach them everything. He would be the best dad, he thought, as he sent an email to his team.
He left the little girls to play with their dolls and switched on the smart TV to watch the latest OTT release.
After a while, the little one, Keerthi, walked in gleefully and sat with him to watch the movie.
“Mama, can you put on Cho Cho TV?” she said with her eyes bulging.
Jagadesh knew this simple ploy. They asked innocently, but if he gave in, they would sit there for the entire day.
He pretended not to hear their pleading. The girls left for the other room. Jagadesh wondered what they were doing. He went to the other room and saw them concentrating on their coloring books. He loitered to the kitchen, tucked in some snacks, humming a tune that he had overheard somewhere.
The girls appeared in front of him, dangling their artwork.
“Wow, that is great,” he took the little one’s drawing first. There were two long legs and a square-shaped head. Keerthi smiled with pride.
“Who is this?”
“She is Thogila, mama,” she smiled once more. Jagadesh looked at her searchingly.
“Who?”
The elder one, Kavitha, waved hers. “This is a cat, and don’t you know Thogila?”
He knew kids talked incoherently, but in the next 10 minutes, he was introduced to two more imaginary friends.
“Mama, this is Sibila and Kabila,” they smiled at Jagadesh.
“But where are they?” he asked.
“They are standing right in front of you… say hi, mama,” Keerthi smiled.
“Hi,” Jagadesh said, feeling stupid. Anyway, he wanted to play along. “Where did your friends go all this time?”
Kavitha turned around quickly. “We are not supposed to ask them that.”
“Why?”
“They will be busy hurting people,” said Keerthi, still smiling.
Jagadesh knew this was hyperactive imagination. But where were they picking these things up? Probably from lots of YouTube channels.
He made a mental note to ask his sister not to give them mobile phones.
The dog started to bark madly.
Jagadesh went to open the door. The two girls screamed “No!” and clasped his legs.
“Thogila is saying not to open, mama,” said Keerthi.
“Why not?”
“Their father has come into Brutus,” said Kavitha.
“What are you talking about?” Jagadesh opened the door, having had enough of this game.
The girls screamed as the dog pounced on him and bit his leg furiously. Jagadesh kicked it.
But it didn’t relent; the pain seared through his veins.
Jagadesh frantically pulled the camera stand that stood near the door and hit the dog’s head. The dog winced and let go. Jagadesh shut the door and lay down in pain.
“Bring the phone,” he shouted to the girls.
The girls ran and brought the phone.
“Sibila is sad,” he heard Keerthi say to Kavitha.
He called his sister, but the line was not reachable. He examined the bite, and the pain was making him nauseous.
As Jagadesh lay there, the TV switched on, and grains formed like on the old TVs he had when he was a small boy. This was an Android TV, and this was not supposed to happen.
Keerthi stood up and said, “Sibila, come here. I told you many times not to get inside the TV.”
The girls laughed once again. This was errant behavior. He was in pain and bleeding, but the girls didn’t seem bothered at all.
“Kabila and Thogila are crying, mama,” Keerthi said, sitting down.
“Get me water,” he cried.
The girls brought water but started to giggle.
“What is so funny?” Jagadesh asked, infuriated.
He drank it in one gulp and tried to call his sister. Calling emergency was the only option, he thought. As he dialed 100, the call disconnected immediately. Then another call came from a different number.
“Give me back my girls,” a harsh, sadistic voice echoed before it cut off.
In shock, Jagadesh threw the phone away. It must all be a dream, he thought. He lay down and hoped everything would return to normal. But as he fell asleep, he saw three little girls walking toward him in a lush green farm.
“You are the three girls in our house?” Jagadesh asked.
“Yes, please help us. Our father is trying to hurt us.”
“You are not alive. How can he hurt you?”
“Yes, our bodies are gone, but we are still the same,” said Thogila.
“You need to leave the house…” Jagadesh said, trying to negotiate.
“How can we ever leave our friend?” Kabila started to cry.
Jagadesh didn’t know what to do. He could feel the pain in his ankle, but when he examined it, everything was fine.
“Why don’t you go along with your father?”
“He makes us do bad things. He makes us hurt people…” They all cried in unison.
“How can I help you?” Jagadesh asked, wondering if any of this was real.
“He has bound himself to a sorcerer. If you destroy the sorcerer’s talisman, he will be free to go.” As they said this, the dream faded, and the pain became acute.
He called his sister again, and this time she picked up, saying she would be there in half an hour.
A little relieved, he looked at the girls, who were busily drawing. Kavitha came to him and handed him a piece of paper.
“Go to third street and meet Dr. Vasanth,” the note read.
Before he could ask any questions, Kavitha said, “They asked me to give it to you.”
Jagadesh didn’t know if he could walk, but he wanted this nightmare to stop. So he asked the girls to stay inside and went out. The dog was nowhere to be seen. He took his bike and went to third street. It was easy to identify Dr. Vasanth’s house. It was the only house with lights on. He paused in front of the gate, hesitant to go inside. The door opened, but there was no one inside. Jagadesh walked in, wondering why the girls had sent him to a doctor’s house. It was empty except for the locked bedroom. He could hear faint whispers. As he neared the door, the whispers stopped.
He said, “Hello?”
And just like the voice he heard in his dream, a little girl’s voice responded.
When he opened the door, three little girls looked at him.
In the middle of the room was a boiling pot. The girls pulled him and tied him up before he could react. On the wall opposite him, a man’s skeleton was stuck.
“You asked for help!” Jagadesh screamed. But the girls changed into their real form. They were old witches—three sisters.
“Dog bite wound,
Blood on the full moon,
Maternal Uncle of two,
Black a buck, buck a black,
Macbeth we warned,
Wizard of Oz witch was our own,
This doctor we warned,
But he died too soon,
Now for the finale,
The moon, the clown,
and the mortal womb,
Spicey, dicey, masala spoon.”
“What?” Jagadesh screamed with fear.
“We are the three sisters, and our old sorcerer host died. Sad little veterinarian doctor; he was trying to capture us for a long time. Now wear the dead man’s talisman.”
Jagadesh wished wholeheartedly to be back in his office. The manager though evil was not a boiling pot witch.
Just then, the door smashed open. Jagadesh’s sister and her husband came in. The witches looked shocked.
“Sisters, the prophecy!” cried out a witch.
“Born of a mother,
Two gender,
One family member,
Three to spoil the broth
, To earth we turn soup and sauce.”
Jagadesh was rescued, and he threw the talismans into the pot. The witches fizzled and turned into soup and sauce, just like the prophecy.
On the way back home after visiting the hospital, Jagadesh’s sister said, “One day I leave you with them, and see what a ruckus you made.”
“Hey, your daughters were buddies with ancient witches.”
When they reached home, the sweet little girls were fast asleep.
Jagadesh rested the whole day, and when he woke up in the evening, he noticed Kavitha talking to something invisible.
Startled, he sat up.
“Who are you talking to?”
“Mama, Thogila has come.”
© Ronald Hadrian 2024
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November 5, 2024
New Criticism, and Russian Formalism Quiz
The post New Criticism, and Russian Formalism Quiz first appeared on Ronald Hadrian.
October 27, 2024
The Gift–A Short Story by Ronald Hadrian
October 22, 1947
Dearest A,
The white sheets of frozen dew spread across the lawn when I opened the door this morning. Winter has arrived early, but for me it arrived last year when you left me, left this country—never to come back. The birds hardly sing, the water gurgles down the mountains only to be mixed with mud and flow away to some far away land. These things remind me of you. When you were here everything seemed to be happy, bubbling, and enchanting. Now it is all dark, grim, and wrecks of death.
I am not blaming you for anything. Luck did not favor me. It favoured some man who in a million years would not have thought about you, would have never longed for you, would not create verse after verse for you. Did he even notice the scar lines on your chin? No, I doubt it. Like an artist, I patiently watched you. For hours, days, and years. But this stranger purchased you, made you his, and now I am left with cheap copies of you in my memory.
Sometimes, I don’t know what I should do. I hate the British, and I am not happy with my own countrymen. Why did they fight for freedom, and now I see you have put me in a prison? I have stayed away from everyone; I have shut my mouth, and now I do not have any opinions. I feel I don’t have any right to any opinion. I feel like I exist in compulsion—a sort of hazy hope that the world would change. My story would become better, and I would have a rosy ending. That is having faith in fiction. But from History, I know things will not end up as predicted or hoped. So, my hope is in that now.
The chickens cluck in the distance, and the coldness seeps through the floor as I shiver while writing this. I hope you found happiness, and I doubt if I will ever find mine. Though it might seem cliché, I have to say you were my sunshine, joy, and also my tormentor.
I sometimes imagine how you would spend time with this stranger. Will you have a secret language with him? Will he understand you like I did? Will he care like I did for a decade? The walks in these hills, me holding your hands, and kissing under the tree by the lake. Those memories I do not often visit, fearing I might do something unprecedented like walking to Britain or hitchhiking there to find you.
PS: I have stopped talking. I have voluntarily become mute.
———-
December 14, 1956
I have written so many letters, but I could not make myself post them to you. I don’t want to intrude in your blissful life. More than I live my life, I imagine how your life is proceeding. I assume you have children now. A routine life: washing, cooking, some country clubs. You might have forgotten me, but I have not. Not a single day has gone without thinking about you.
Hundreds of poems in my attic. And tear-stained parchments hidden away in my mother’s trunk. Many people have asked me to marry, and why I won’t. I can’t tell them abmarryout you. It would only make matters worse. I thought about joining the parish, a life given to austerity, prayer, and serving the poor. I have a farm to see to, and now that I have become an orphan, going back and becoming a priest seems impossible.
The only happiness in my life now is writing, walking, and talking to my sheep and cows.
——–
March 19, 1960
I have crossed 40 now, and I no longer feel the youthful energy that I had. I woke up with a searing pain in my legs. The doctor says I should not hike in the mountains for some months. Oh, I love the woods. I have started to talk to the pine trees; they know everything about you. I told them how heartless you had been. How you slept on my shoulders beneath the pine trees, and now you have gone away millions of miles away.
The sadness never subsides.
——
April 10, 1970
Fifty years of living. What have I accomplished? I would blame you for this misery. While you lived your life, I puttered on with your thoughts. The psychology books say that it was not some person but my own childhood traumas. Now thinking about it—probably true. If I may diagnose myself, I have been afraid of losing. In the woods when I was 10 years old, I was lost, and that picture is so clear in my head. Then I lost my dad, then my mom, then my house.
Just when I began to trust you, like clockwork, you left. So, my subconscious, like C.S. Lewis wrote once, wrapped itself into a cold heart. Any kind of love was disdained, and I have lived all these years this way. But I am not Scrooge mind you; I have helped so many people but did not help myself. I couldn’t even keep you; I don’t deserve love. (I understand you will be laughing at such foolishness, but some people are fools to begin with.)
Some days I thought to forget everything and start over, but no, no, no… life has this weird way of chastening me. Time does not heal anyone; it only makes you forget about the scar. But the scar is there always, like a memorial to things past.
——
February 4, 1990
The doctors have finally given up on me. No family, except for my servant caring for me. I will give this house and the little savings I have. It would benefit him. Sometimes, I regret meeting you. If we hadn’t met, my life trajectory would have been different. But I trudged along and finally I have come to a place of no return. I do not know if you are alive or dead. Whatever death is, I am hoping I could meet you, walk with you, hold your hands. If there is nothing else, my thoughts must dissipate like vapor; these letters, these fragments of memory would be able to convey my love, almost chaste.
Everyone would say this is utter madness; I agree it is. Your gift kept me from finding peace all these years. The gift, so tenderly packed and given to me, and I lived with it, afraid of loving someone who might potentially hand out more gifts to me, and I couldn’t bear it.
I lived. I helped. I made a name for myself. Knowing all this is vanity, but there was only one way not to succumb to the gift you gave. The gift of a permanent depression and of course silence.
———-
March 6, 1991
Dear X
I do not know who you are. You do not seem to write your name. The Dear A you mention so fondly also happen to be my aunt. On December 25, 1947, when they were crossing the pacific she died.
All the trauma for nothing.
I am sorry.
Authors Note:
Mr. X did not read the letter. In the early hours of March 4, he silently passed away.
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October 26, 2024
2006 review quiz
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const questions = [ { question: "Which Shakespeare play provides the title 'The Sound and the Fury'?", options: ["Hamlet", "Macbeth", "The Tempest", "King Lear"], correct: "Macbeth" }, { question: "Who wrote 'Waiting for Godot'?", options: ["Samuel Beckett", "Arthur Miller", "Tennessee Williams", "Eugene O'Neill"], correct: "Samuel Beckett" }, { question: "Which novel has a nameless narrator?", options: ["Invisible Man", "The Grapes of Wrath", "Moby Dick", "Anna Karenina"], correct: "Invisible Man" }, { question: "What is 'Hamartia'?", options: ["Reversal of fortunes", "Purgation of emotions", "Depravity", "Error of judgement"], correct: "Error of judgement" }, { question: "Who coined the term 'gynocriticism'?", options: ["Betty Friedman", "Elaine Showalter", "Luce Irigarey", "Susan Sontag"], correct: "Elaine Showalter" }, { question: "Let's test your memory again: What's Hamartia?", options: ["Reversal of fortunes", "Purgation of emotions", "Depravity", "Error of judgement"], correct: "Error of judgement" }, { question: "The term 'Jindiworobak' movement relates to which literature?", options: ["Australian literature", "Canadian literature", "New Zealand literature", "Caribbean literature"], correct: "Australian literature" }, { question: "What is the rhyme scheme of a Shakespearean sonnet?", options: ["abab, cdcd, efef, gg", "abba, cddc, dffe, gg", "abcd, efgh, effe, hh", "abca, abca, bcab, dd"], correct: "abab, cdcd, efef, gg" }, { question: "Using 'the Crown' for the monarchy is an example of:", options: ["Metaphor", "Irony", "Synecdoche", "Metonymy"], correct: "Metonymy" }, { question: "Using 'the Bench' for the judiciary is also an example of:", options: ["Metaphor", "Irony", "Synecdoche", "Metonymy"], correct: "Metonymy" }, { question: "Who was associated with the 'Bloomsbury Group'?", options: ["T.S. Eliot", "W.B. Yeats", "T.E. Hulme", "Virginia Woolf"], correct: "Virginia Woolf" }, { question: "Which character appears in 'Waiting for Godot'?", options: ["Jerry", "Lucky", "Jimmy Porter", "Ham"], correct: "Lucky" }, { question: "The narrative of Raja Rao's 'Kanthapura' is based on:", options: ["Puranas", "Shastras", "The Ramayana", "The Mahabharata"], correct: "Puranas" }, { question: "Queen Victoria's reign spans:", options: ["1833-1901", "1837-1901", "1840-1905", "1842-1905"], correct: "1837-1901" }, { question: "The mystery plays deal with:", options: ["the life of Christ", "the New Testament", "Psalms", "Apocrypha"], correct: "the New Testament" }, { question: "Which of the following is a writer of historical romances?", options: ["Emily Bronte", "Jane Austen", "Walter Scott", "Walter Savage Landor"], correct: "Walter Scott" }, { question: "Who among the following cautioned against the dangers of popular liberty?", options: ["Mary Wollstonecraft", "Edmund Burke", "Thomas Hobbes", "John Locke"], correct: "Edmund Burke" }, { question: "Which famous American classic opens with 'Call me Ishmael'?", options: ["Rip Van Winkle", "The Scarlet Letter", "The Grapes of Wrath", "Moby Dick"], correct: "Moby Dick" }, { question: "The theatre of cruelty is associated with:", options: ["Stanislavosky", "Grotovsky", "Antonin Artaud", "Eugino Barba"], correct: "Antonin Artaud" }, { question: "What metrical foot contains a stressed syllable followed by an unstressed syllable?", options: ["anapaest", "iamb", "trochee", "dactyl"], correct: "trochee" } ]; let currentQuestion = 0; let answers = {}; let userName = ''; // Get DOM elements const nameInput = document.getElementById('nameInput'); const startButton = document.getElementById('startButton'); const welcomeSection = document.getElementById('welcome'); const questionContainer = document.getElementById('questionContainer'); const resultsSection = document.getElementById('results'); const questionElement = document.getElementById('question'); const optionsElement = document.getElementById('options'); const currentQuestionNum = document.getElementById('currentQuestionNum'); // Enable start button when name is entered nameInput.addEventListener('input', function() { startButton.disabled = !nameInput.value.trim(); }); // Start quiz startButton.addEventListener('click', function() { userName = nameInput.value.trim(); welcomeSection.classList.add('hidden'); questionContainer.classList.remove('hidden'); showQuestion(); }); function showQuestion() { const question = questions[currentQuestion]; currentQuestionNum.textContent = currentQuestion + 1; questionElement.textContent = question.question; optionsElement.innerHTML = ''; question.options.forEach(function(option) { const button = document.createElement('button'); button.className = 'button'; button.textContent = option; button.onclick = function() { handleAnswer(option); }; optionsElement.appendChild(button); }); } function handleAnswer(answer) { answers[currentQuestion] = answer; currentQuestion++; if (currentQuestion < questions.length) { showQuestion(); } else { showResults(); } } function showResults() { questionContainer.classList.add('hidden'); resultsSection.classList.remove('hidden'); document.getElementById('resultName').textContent = userName; const score = calculateScore(); document.getElementById('score').textContent = score; const reviewDiv = document.getElementById('answerReview'); reviewDiv.innerHTML = ''; for (let i = 0; i < questions.length; i++) { const q = questions[i]; const answerDiv = document.createElement('div'); answerDiv.className = 'card'; const questionPara = document.createElement('p'); questionPara.innerHTML = '<strong>' + q.question + '</strong>'; const correctPara = document.createElement('p'); correctPara.className = 'result-correct'; correctPara.textContent = 'Correct answer: ' + q.correct; const yourAnswerPara = document.createElement('p'); yourAnswerPara.className = answers[i] === q.correct ? 'result-correct' : 'result-incorrect'; yourAnswerPara.textContent = 'Your answer: ' + (answers[i] || 'Not answered'); answerDiv.appendChild(questionPara); answerDiv.appendChild(correctPara); answerDiv.appendChild(yourAnswerPara); reviewDiv.appendChild(answerDiv); } } function calculateScore() { let score = 0; for (let i = 0; i < questions.length; i++) { if (answers[i] === questions[i].correct) { score++; } } return score; }The post 2006 review quiz first appeared on Ronald Hadrian.
October 21, 2024
Atomic Essay app
By Anonymous
Generate Image [image error] const titleInput = document.getElementById('title'); const authorInput = document.getElementById('author'); const essayInput = document.getElementById('essay'); const wordCountSpan = document.getElementById('wordCount'); const errorDiv = document.getElementById('error'); const generateBtn = document.getElementById('generateBtn'); const previewTitle = document.getElementById('previewTitle'); const previewAuthor = document.getElementById('previewAuthor'); const previewEssay = document.getElementById('previewEssay'); const generatedImage = document.getElementById('generatedImage'); function updateWordCount() { const words = essayInput.value.trim().split(/\s+/); const count = words.filter(word => word.length > 0).length; wordCountSpan.textContent = count; errorDiv.textContent = count > 100 ? 'Essay exceeds 100 words limit!' : ''; generateBtn.disabled = count !== 100; previewTitle.textContent = titleInput.value || 'Untitled'; previewAuthor.textContent = `By ${authorInput.value || 'Anonymous'}`; previewEssay.textContent = essayInput.value; } titleInput.addEventListener('input', updateWordCount); authorInput.addEventListener('input', updateWordCount); essayInput.addEventListener('input', updateWordCount); generateBtn.addEventListener('click', function() { html2canvas(document.getElementById('essayPreview'), { width: 1080, height: 1080, scale: 2 }).then(canvas => { const imgData = canvas.toDataURL('image/png'); generatedImage.src = imgData; generatedImage.style.display = 'block'; // Create a download link const downloadLink = document.createElement('a'); downloadLink.href = imgData; downloadLink.download = 'atomic-essay.png'; downloadLink.textContent = 'Download Image'; downloadLink.style.display = 'block'; downloadLink.style.marginTop = '10px'; // Replace the generate button with the download link generateBtn.parentNode.replaceChild(downloadLink, generateBtn); }); });The post Atomic Essay app first appeared on Ronald Hadrian.
October 19, 2024
The Balance- Zelandia Tales- A short story by Ronald Hadrian
In the outskirts of the Zelandian village called Oyto, the first outbreak of infants perishing mysteriously was reported.
“What is happening?” the village elder asked the guards. “Sir, the people are crying. Something bad is happening,” they shuddered. The village elder’s wife ran hysterically towards him. “Julian is dead,” she wailed. The village elder commanded the guards to swiftly mount their horses and get the news to the High King at Zelandia’s Capital.
The once vibrant realm withered, its people haunted by the specter of death that stalked their children.
*****
In the bustling market of Hiron, young Alex maneuvered through the throng of merchants and shoppers. His keen eyes darted from stall to stall. The fish stock was dwindling rapidly. The boy’s mind churned with the knowledge that overfishing ravaged the delicate balance of Zelandia’s waters.
Alex paused at a weathered booth, its planks groaning under the weight of meager catches. Old Tom, a grizzled fisherman with a salt-crusted beard, greeted him with a nod. “Slim pickings today, lad,” Tom grumbled, gesturing at his paltry wares. “The fish are not to be found like before. Something is wrong with the waters. And I think we take too much, too fast.” “Aye, but what choice do we have? Gotta eat, don’t we?”
Alex opened his mouth to respond, but a commotion near the market’s entrance drew his attention. A group of dragon hunters swaggered through the crowd, their armor glinting in the sun. Tied to their steeds were the broken bodies of two young dragons, their once-iridescent scales now dull and lifeless.
The sight twisted Alex’s gut. He knew the truth that so many refused to see: the relentless pursuit of dragons upset the delicate harmony of their world. With each mighty beast slain, darkness crept further into Zelandia.
As the hunters passed, Alex caught snippets of their boastful conversation. “Two more notches on the belt,” one grinned, patting his sword hilt. “Aye, and good riddance,” another chimed in. “The fewer of these fire-breathing devils, the better.”
Alex clenched his fists, biting back the urge to challenge their ignorance. He knew the dragons weren’t the true threat. Something far more insidious lurked in the shadows, feeding on the imbalance they created.
That night, Alex could hardly sleep. He listened to the night, and he could hear something calling him. The calling silently drifted into his mind, then it started to become louder. His mother had warned him never to listen to the voice. She told him it came from the Sirens in the Sea. He shut his ears and tried to sleep. The pull was so intense that he pushed open the door and ran to the shore. The voice suddenly quietened. But in the distance, he could see the pirate ships entering the harbor. By now, the Royal Navy should have been alerted. But no one seemed to know.
He ran to the lighthouse and noticed the guard fast asleep. “Hey, there is a pirate ship in the harbor,” he shook him. The guard did not wake up; it looked like he was under a spell. Then the lights flickered on the ship like they were sending a signal. Alex took the key from the sleeping guard and entered the lighthouse. As he stood at the top peering through the glasses, he could see a small boy huddled near the mast, terrified. But who was sending the signal? Maybe it was simply a trap, Alex pondered.
Just when he was about to turn and check if the guard was awake, the light flashed again, and this time there was a fair girl beside the crying boy. She did not speak to the boy but was pointing for him to jump from the ship. But he did not move.
Then she opened her mouth and sang, and the boy clasped his ears in horror. Alex suddenly wanted to be near her. The voice was soothing. He ran down and did not even notice the guard; he plunged forward into the cold water and swam. The call was so strong that as he swam for some time, the voice stopped, and he suddenly came to his senses. He blinked bewildered, floating in the cold water. How did he get into the water?
The pirate ship was near him, and then he remembered seeing the girl sing from the lighthouse. He knew if she sang once again, he would go to her, and he would be dead. But then he saw the boy floating in the water. He was unconscious. Alex dragged the boy back to the shore, and it was not an easy task.
The Royal Navy guard appeared out of nowhere, seeing Alex crouched beside the boy. He ran towards them and shoved Alex away from the boy. “What happened here?” the guard asked with a loud voice. “The boy was drowning by that pirate ship…” Alex panted. The guard looked at the sea. “What pirate ship?” the guard asked. Alex stood up and looked, and to his astonishment, there was nothing there. “But I saw it,” Alex said, perplexed. “This boy jumped from the ship, and there was a Siren on the ship.” The guard looked at him incredulously. “Are you drunk? There is no pirate ship, and Sirens here?” He raised his voice. “I swear I saw her,” Alex said.
The guard asked for help to carry the boy to the healer’s den. The boy was breathing, thankfully, but was not conscious. Alex’s mind reeled with questions. Did he imagine the ship? How did it disappear? Or was he the only one who was able to view it?
They reached the healer’s den, and there was an old healer woman. The woman looked at the boy, annoyed. “What happened?” she asked, making him lie on a wooden cot. “This man found him. This boy was drowning,” the guard said, sitting near the fire. “You’ve got a warm place here,” the guard continued, now viewing Alex fully for the first time. “Come here, you’re wet. Warm yourself.”
The healer was more annoyed. But as she examined him, she noticed the boy was missing a finger. “How odd,” she uttered. She examined him further, and in his pocket, there was a dragon tooth. “This boy collects dangerous things,” she sighed. “Bad omen, bad omen,” she muttered.
Both Alex and the guard came near and examined the tooth. Alex had a habit of collecting rare objects, and he knew this would make a fine addition to his collection.
The guard said, “Well, I have to be going now. I will be back in the evening with more information about this boy.” He looked at Alex. “I suggest you go and take rest.”
Alex smiled. In this life, rest was a luxury. He had to get to work in the market. There was gossip to be spread, dragons to be saved, and also mysteries to be solved.
When he reached the market, the sellers had not set up shop. He wondered what had happened. “What happened today?” he asked Old Tom. “Don’t you know?” “What?” “The ministry of trade has called for a meeting,” he sighed. “Oh really, how come I didn’t know?” Alex asked, puzzled. “Only sellers with trade licenses were asked to attend, and only late in the evening were they informed,” he said, moving his old meat.
“Something is amiss, Old Tom,” he hesitated as Old Tom was watching him intently. “I… saw… a Siren, Tom.” “What?” “Yes, it’s true. I saw a Siren,” he insisted. Old Tom took a deep breath. Alex wondered if the old man would believe him or not. “I rescued a boy, and we found a dragon tooth with him.” He looked at the eager eyes of Old Tom. “I left him with the healer.” “Okay, I believe you. I want to see the boy then.”
Alex was taken aback.
The healer’s den was locked. Old Tom looked at Alex with doubt. “Are you sure, Alex? You’re not making fun of the old man, are you?” He said, moving aside to allow Alex to call the healer.
They heard some rumbling inside the den. Then after some time, she opened the door, and she looked dazed. “Yes, how may I help you?” she asked. Alex looked at her incredulously. “Where is the boy?” Alex asked, not daring to look at Old Tom. “Boy…?” The lady looked in confusion. Alex pushed her and went inside. “Yesterday, the guard and I came and left a boy here. He even had a finger missing.” The lady looked at him with fear in her eyes. “You are trespassing,” she shouted. “No, lady,” stepped in Tom. “We just want to know.”
He looked around and noticed vials of potions. He bent down, and his skilled eyes picked up the dragon tooth Alex had told him about. “May I know how you got this?” The healer blinked. “I have no idea,” she said after a while. “I feel like I am dreaming all this.”
Old Tom suddenly took the flower vase and dropped it onto the floor. But it did not break; in fact, it floated in mid-air. “We are in a Siren bubble.”
Alex looked at Old Tom, suddenly realizing what was happening. “Someone does not want us to find the boy,” Old Tom said, looking at the shocked healer. “As you said, there is a boy here, and also a Siren is involved,” he stammered. He looked concerned now. “Something bad is happening, isn’t it?” Alex shuddered. “Sirens don’t travel so far to the South,” Old Tom sat down. “Something sinister has awakened. Come, we have no time left.”
Alex and Old Tom left the house and felt relieved to be out of the Siren’s bubble.
They reached the Chamber of Trade and noticed that the meeting was already well underway. “The dragons are almost gone,” said an old ruddy man at the back. “When have you become sympathetic to those infernal beasts?” said a man with white robes, which indicated he belonged to the Trade ministry. “They don’t cause us any trouble now. They stay in the mountains, and they are content with mountain goats… it has been over a century since even a dragon was seen flying in these parts,” said the ruddy man whom Old Tom knew as Punk Jack Slayer. “Are you all in favor of not killing those beasts?” asked Bobbin, the Trade minister.
Old Tom had had enough. He stood up and said, “Pardon my intrusion, but this is important. As you are debating on killing or not killing, the enemy has made its way through the mountains. The dragons are no longer a threat; they have dwindled, and now more dangerous creatures will prowl the lands.”
Everyone looked at him silently like he had uttered something in the black tongue. The minister regained his composure and asked him, “What kind of creatures?” “This little boy here,” Old Tom pointed at Alex, “saw a Siren yesterday.”
Everyone was shocked. “That is impossible…” “Even I thought that until I went to see the boy he had rescued yesterday and left with a healer. We were in a Siren bubble.”
The minister’s face reddened. “This is all a fable,” shouted the minister. “You are trying to cause panic among the people.”
Another voice echoed from the back. It was the guard who had helped Alex rescue the boy. “It is true. I helped him. The boy was left with a healer. Even I couldn’t see the ship he saw, but the boy, the healer said, had a dragon tooth and a finger missing.”
People started to stand up. Waves of panic spread around the hall, and to add to the chaos, a guard ran hysterically towards the minister and shouted, “The king wants an immediate meeting, my Lord. There was a messenger from Oyto, and something terrible has happened.”
People began to shout now. “Quiet! We have seen worse things,” the minister shouted. “You both come with me,” he pointed at Alex and Old Tom and left the Chamber.
Accompanying the minister, Alex and Old Tom reached the palace banquet hall. They had never been inside the palace. It was absolutely beautiful with chandeliers and food that could feed the whole town. “Are they eating all this?” asked Alex to Old Tom. “Rich and their spoils,” he sneered. The minister stared but did not comment.
The meeting started immediately.
The King stood up and said, “Greetings, my fellow ministers. It is a grave time, and to discuss matters of national interest, we have gathered here.” He sighed. “I do not want this to be politicized.”
Everyone looked at each other, disturbed. “I received a messenger from two Western provinces, and they bring dire news,” he waited. “The firstborns are dying mysteriously. And this plague is spreading.”
The ministers started to become agitated. “Is this true?” shouted a short man. “Yes, it is,” came forward the King’s seer. He was the most influential man in the Kingdom. Alex had heard stories about him. “Can he really see the future?” asked Alex to Tom.
The seer continued. “The old shadows are moving again.” “Yes, it is because of you,” Old Tom shouted.
Alex was stunned. “What?” The seer said sternly.
Old Tom went forward bravely. “You killed the dragons, you fished away all the sea monsters. Now you have slaughtered the young trees.” “What has that to do with this?” The other ministers stood up. “Everything.”
The minister of trade stood up. “He is speaking the truth. This boy and that old man have visited a Siren Bubble right here in our town.”
Everyone’s eyes widened. “That is impossible,” said the king.
Old Tom continued, “It is true, my Lord. The dragons kept these shadows at bay, the sea monsters protected us from invading Sirens, and the dark forests kept the shadows…” “The balance must be restored,” the King whispered.
The seer immediately suggested, “My Lord, I think we have to consult…” he hesitated. “Gabriel Gibbon Gautav.”
The giant, Gabriel Gibbon Gautav, liked his privacy. He had retired to the Cave of Whispers with his books. He was the guardian of the wisdom pool inside the cave. But in dire situations, he would send warning letters about the future.
Then for another half an hour, everyone debated about the person to send on this mission.
Alex and Old Tom slipped into the banquet and ate all the sumptuous food while they debated.
Suddenly, the Minister of Trade let that young man Alex, along with some guards, go. Alex’s mouth dropped, and the apple pie stuffed in his mouth was visible to everyone. “If you can accomplish this mission, then you can work for the Palace Trade team,” the King suggested.
Without even asking for his reply, all the ministers decided on the fact and left for the banquet. “We are going to die, and these people are interested in food,” asked Alex to Old Tom.
In the gray light of dawn, Alex slipped from his tent, a stale loaf tucked under his arm. Four guards accompanied him. They seemed to be fresh recruits. “Did you really go to Defense Damage Control Academy?” he asked them, looking at their clumsiness.
They made their way to the small woods on the outskirts of the town. “You know why many don’t want to go meet the giant?” said one guard, hoping to break the silence. “Why?” Alex said, bored. “Gabriel Gibbon once successfully predicted a siege, and in return, he asked for the hand of the princess,” he panted, climbing over a fallen tree. “Yes, I heard. He was so heartbroken that he got drunk and ransacked a town, and wrote poetry on the walls of the houses,” broke in another guard.
Alex smiled. He remembered the time he sang a song for the Bella of Darwin and got locked up in jail. “Then what happened?” Alex quipped. “He got embarrassed and never left the place.” “This is going to be a hard task,” said a guard.
Alex knew this was going to be a hard task, but he didn’t want to admit it. He knew the morale would be shattered if he thought it was an impossible task. The Cave of Whispers was at the mountain foot. “Glad the cave was not in the middle of the mountain,” a guard said.
The interesting part of the cave was the sound. The closer they got, the more quietly they spoke, the louder it became. The louder they spoke, the quieter it was heard. They shifted to sign language after yelling with less effect. The cave converged, and there was a humongous door in the middle.
“This should be Gabriel Gibbon’s home,” said Alex. “Who wants to knock on it?”
The guards recoiled as if they were asked to do something terrible.
“I don’t know if we’re going to make it out,” Alex said nervously as he knocked on the door.
The door opened abruptly. There was only nothingness. After some deliberation, they peered inside, and it was dark. They entered. It seemed like there was no one inside.
“He is not here,” a voice whispered silently, yet it was so loud the cave shook.
“He is not here… he is not here… he is not here…”
“You idiot,” shouted Alex, but it was heard as a whisper.
In the middle of the empty room was an old wooden desk. On it lay a note:
“I am on vacation”
“We came all this way for this…” said one guard, his face sulking.
Alex didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He rummaged through the desk and found copious notes on dragons, the dark forest, and also the oceans. “I’m starting to doubt if he has really gone on vacation.”
Alex noticed something odd. “Has anyone seen this Gabriel Gibbon?”
“Yes, I have,” said one of the guards. “I was a small kid when he came to rampage our town.”
“How tall was he?” asked Alex.
“He was humongous,” the guard stated. “He was twice as tall as I was; he was so large that he was larger than my barn door.”
Then Alex understood. “He couldn’t actually be in this room, right?”
“Definitely not,” all the guards’ eyes brightened.
“This is a siren bubble,” said Alex. “Something happened here.”
As he was saying the words, he noticed the table had been levitating. The guards looked at each other in shock as the realization sank in. “We need to find out what’s causing this,” said Alex, determined to get to the bottom of the mysterious occurrence. The guards gasped in horror as a gigantic toe materialized before their eyes. It was clear that whatever was causing the strange events in the siren bubble was powerful and unpredictable. Alex knew they had to act fast before something even more dangerous emerged.
“I think the bubble is going to burst; we have to get out of here,” Alex said. The guards quickly exited the room. As they ran down the corridor, Alex could hear the sound of cracking glass behind them. It was a race against time to escape the siren bubble before it collapsed completely. They barely jumped out of the cave entrance, and the place completely changed. It was not a small cave but a hidden wildlife sanctuary. A table stretched across a kilometer, and there were racks and racks of scrolls and books. Alex looked on in shock, but others were not interested in the books and other animals. Instead, they stared at the giant lying on the ground, tied down by enormous rods of iron.
Whoever had done this must be really powerful, Alex concluded. He looked about and noticed piles of maps and notes on the floor. Someone had rummaged through them, looking for something important.
“Look how big he is!” A guard gaped at the unconscious giant.
Others joined in agreement. Alex went over the fallen books, maps, and scrolls to find if there was some clue. The head librarian might have loved this place greatly, he thought as he glanced at the maps. There were copious notes made by the giant man, but how could such a giant man be able to write on such small scrolls and parchment, he wondered.
The maps showed the entire Zelandian landscape from the mountains, the seas, and the forests. But from the north, there was a dark marking coming towards the capital of Zelandia.
“He knew something…” the guards peered behind him. “That’s why they did this to him, didn’t they?”
“He must have had some idea about their movement,” Alex said. “There’s only one way to know about it; we have to wake him up.”
Gabriel Gibbon was not easy to wake up. They threw books at him, kicked him, and even used a gigantic pen nib to poke him. But nothing worked.
“He must be under a sleeping spell,” said a guard.
“What spells? You know very well spells don’t work, right?” Alex stared at the guard.
“Oh yes, but even Sirens were a legend until yesterday,” he smirked back.
Alex knew that everything was possible now. He wanted answers; something big was occurring, and only the giant could help them. Alex, without wasting time, went through the medicinal remedies section, hoping to find something useful. He came across a scroll with the title, “Are you stunned? Literally stunned? Read on.” It was written by Monks of the Nomadic, Nude wilderness clan.
“This is simply a joke,” he asked the guards. The guards laughed at the title. “This Gibbon has some real humor, all right.”
“Whatever stunning, freezing spell used by wanderers in the desert can be remedied by a Dragon tooth. That’s all you need. And good luck finding one, though. We lost two nude monks to that terrible beast.”
“Dragon tooth,” said Alex, stroking his chin as he usually does. “Oh, Pirates! I have it in my pocket.”
He took out the tooth and pressed it on the side of Giant Gibbon. Nothing happened at first, then something stirred. It was like a mountain stirring. Gibbon woke up and sat still. He looked at the guards around him and sighed.
“What are you all doing in my cave?” He sighed again. “This is private property.”
“The king wants your help. There’s news from other villages that their firstborns are dying.”
The giant’s face turned pink. “That is an old curse,” he tried to stand up. But as he stood up, his proportion decreased, and he was exactly as tall as Alex. “But this is nothing compared to the things that are about to happen.”
Alex looked stunned to see him face to face. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Werewolves don’t stay werewolves all the time, do they?” Gibbon replied calmly.
“But what happened here? The books were fallen down… who put a spell on you?” The guards started to question him.
“It was the Siren with her wretched boy,” he sat down by a pile of books.
“So you met them,” Alex asked, perturbed.
“I didn’t seek them; they sought me,” he opened a book. “To build this,” he pointed at a tower-like structure.
“What is this?” Alex asked.
“That is a voice echoer built in the ancient world to control people,” Gibbon pushed a chair nearby to Alex. “Have a seat.”
Alex sat hesitantly. “The siren, the boy, and the old plague… are they all connected?”
“Yes, of course,” suddenly Gibbon seemed to remember something. “Dear Merlin, I know what’s up,” he stood up. “Quick, we need to get going. Otherwise, many will die.”
Alex and the guards didn’t wait for an explanation. They followed him. “I hope it’s not too late…” he said, following a familiar narrow mountain trail. The wind was blowing hard; the sun was about to set. Ravens gathered around them. “Why are the ravens gathering?” The guards pantingly asked as they climbed higher.
“They’re waiting for us to be dead,” Gibbon said.
“What?”
“Don’t you know who they serve is gaining strength again?”
As they approached the top, they could see green sparks like lightning go across the sky. “She’s starting; we should not let her do it.”
“What?” Alex was exhausted. He didn’t know why they were following him. “What if it’s a trap?”
They stopped in front of a thicket that hid them from the Siren. She was waving her hands in deep concentration. “She’s creating the biggest Siren bubble that would cover the entire town.”
“Why would she do it?” A guard whispered.
“Her master will send the Harvesters to bring the old plague,” he stood up.
“Is this how they killed in the other places?” A guard asked.
“Yes, we need to stop her,” Gibbon started to grow. He became a huge giant, and he charged as the sparks flew. Gibbon punched the little bowl of green light. It threw the Siren to the ground. She screamed. She stood up and charged towards the giant. Just then, Alex felt someone stand beside him. It was the boy, and he kept glaring at them.
“Hey, where did you come from?” Alex asked. “Are you okay?” The boy’s eyes rolled, and he ran to attack the giant. The boy went and punched his leg, and Alex and the guards let out a gasp. The foot cracked, and the giant was on his knees.
The boy walked towards the Siren and stood beside her, looking at the ground. She patted his head, and Alex wanted to help Gibbon, but the giant did not wait. He ran with extreme force towards the kid and punched him. The boy did not even flinch.
Alex and the guards could not believe what they had seen. The Siren, for the first time, spoke, her voice carrying a mesmerizing undertone. “The boy is not a boy.”
“What is this dark magic?” Gibbon asked.
“Do you want to see his real form?” The Siren teased.
Gibbon stood up swiftly as the boy slowly expanded and transformed into a redneck Dragon. The guards shrieked. No one had seen a real dragon for a long time. But here it was, standing right in front of them. The nostrils breathing fire.
“Behold my Lord’s power,” she sneered. “He is going to create an army of these.”
Alex knew this was a lost battle. Gibbon looked puny compared to the towering dragon. “Tonight we bring the plague; all firstborns will be lost.”
The siren commanded the dragon to take care of them. And she started to perform her Siren Bubble conjuration. As the dragon raised its wings to take flight, Gibbon started to decrease in size, and when he came to a normal human height, he ran to Alex.
“What do we do now?”
“There is nothing we can do… we must take this news to the King,” said Alex.
The guards were already running down the hill. The dragon had risen above the ground and rapidly shot into the sky. Then it started to descend, locking its sight on the fleeing crew. The dragon flew down, opening its gigantic mouth, sucking in the air, making a bundle of fire to spray at them.
Just then, Old Tom, along with other dragon hunters, came. Alex’s face lit up seeing them. A conjurer came forward and wove a green protective layer. The flame was thwarted back, but the conjurer turned around and said, “There is something wrong,” he shouted. “These are not real flames.”
Old Tom stepped forward. “I don’t think that is a real dragon.” The green magical layers disappeared. The dragon hunters aimed their enchanted arrows and pierced the dragon. But nothing happened. Old Tom looked at Alex for a second and asked, “Do you have the dragon tooth?”
“Yes,” Alex handed it to him, watching the dragon once again charging at them.
Tom threw it to a dragon hunter, who chucked it onto the tip of the arrow and sent the arrow flying into the dragon’s heart. For a second, everything paused. The dragon disappeared, and the boy came hurtling to the ground. But where he fell, a big crater had formed. The impact was so powerful that the siren fell down, and the green and red waves conjured disappeared, breaking the Siren bubble.
“No,” she screamed.
The boy stood up angrily.
“He will come…” he said and disappeared. The Siren opened her mouth, and everyone closed their ears. The enchanting voice echoed when a portal opened, and she was sucked in.
The guards and the hunters recovered.
“They will come back,” said Old Tom.
“But at least we saved the day,” the dragon hunters stood up.
Alex was patted by all the guards. “At least we can be ready for future attacks,” Alex said, looking at Old Tom.
The dragon hunters hit each other. “We have fought valiantly, my brothers!” said one of the hunters.
“Hang on,” said one of the guards. “I have seen you somewhere.”
“Oh, I am well known,” blushed the hunter.
The guards all seemed to recognize him suddenly. “Hey, you were on the most wanted list for scamming people with fake dragon stuff.”
The hunters, though they had valiantly fought the dragon, did not like to be confined to the kingdom prison. So they raced down the hill, followed by the King’s guards.
“Well, you did well, mate,” Old Tom hit Alex.
They walked down the hill to get Alex a job in the palace before the enemies destroyed it all.
© Ronald Hadrian 2024
The post The Balance- Zelandia Tales- A short story by Ronald Hadrian first appeared on Ronald Hadrian.
December 2005 quiz
The post December 2005 quiz first appeared on Ronald Hadrian.
October 14, 2024
Educators, your brand matters.
Educators, your brand matters.
It’s the essence of who you are
and what you bring to the classroom.
It shapes your professional journey.
→ Authenticity is key.
Share your passion for learning
and your unique teaching approach.
Let your expertise shine bright.
→ Connect with purpose.
Build a network of fellow educators
and embrace lifelong learning.
Your growth inspires students.
→ Embrace digital platforms.
Share insights, lessons, and victories.
Showcase your impact on education.
Your voice can spark change.
→ Remember, you’re a role model.
Your brand reflects your values
and dedication to shaping minds.
It’s your legacy in education.
The post Educators, your brand matters. first appeared on Ronald Hadrian.
October 13, 2024
Are you feeling stuck in your classes?
You’re not alone. Many students struggle through courses they don’t care about.
This leads to:
• Poor grades
• Wasted time
• Frustration
• Lost opportunities
But here’s the truth: You’re not lazy. You’re just not interested.
Charlie Munger said, “In my whole life I’ve never been good at something I wasn’t very interested in. It just doesn’t work.”
He’s right. There’s no substitute for strong interest.
So what can you do?
Find your passion. It’s hiding in plain sight.
• What do you think about in your free time?
• Which topics make you lose track of time?
• What would you do even if you weren’t paid?
That’s where your strength lies.
Embrace it. Pursue it. Excel in it.
When you’re truly interested, learning becomes effortless. Work feels like play.
You’ll stand out. Opportunities will find you.
Don’t settle for mediocrity in subjects you hate. Chase excellence in what you love.
Your future self will thank you.
Ready to transform your college experience? Follow me for more insights on harnessing the power of strong interest.
The post Are you feeling stuck in your classes? first appeared on Ronald Hadrian.
October 7, 2024
“Ever heard of the 4 Ps? Let’s dive in.
“Ever heard of the 4 Ps? Let’s dive in.
First, the Promise. Always set the stage with what you’ll deliver.
Next, paint the Picture. Use vivid imagery to make your point pop.
Then, bring in the Proof. Show them why they should believe you.
Finally, Push. Drive them to act.
To implement:
—Frame your promise in the first sentence.
—Use descriptive words to create a visual picture.
—Show proof with stats or examples.
—End with a clear call to action.
Apply this in your next post and see the magic! Follow me as I continue to write about different types of Copywriting frameworks.
#MarketingMagic #ContentStrategy #4Ps”
What do you think?
The post “Ever heard of the 4 Ps? Let’s dive in. first appeared on Ronald Hadrian.
