Fraction of a Second

The day started like any other. Few minutes scanning the newspapers, the routine cup of coffee and work. But something was different on the way to work. I was feeling brisk, almost like the brain was tired of being tired of life. The day appeared brighter than usual. The traffic was moving quicker than usual. Then came the fraction of second that made a difference.

A large truck was hogging the road. On any other day I'd be happy to tail the slow truck all the way. But today was different. The brain worked faster than usual. It was only a fraction of second quicker though. The distance was worked out, the calculation was perfect. A little extra acceleration and I zoomed ahead of the slow beast. It was almost like the instincts took over. Some may perceive it as rash driving, according to me the mind was operating a fraction of a second faster than usual. Once I pulled away from the truck there was no looking back.

I reached office on time. I was able to predict the output of the code. Knew what people would say next. The vision for whole day almost presented itself beforehand. Time flew. Work day came to an end. I had written more code than usual, was still remarkably fresh Once I was back home, hit the gym and as I'm writing this post I'm almost on unlimited energy.

Once in a while, the brain acts slightly faster than usual. The moments when it happens is when u get the spark. Once you identify such moments life becomes easy and you are almost in overdrive and experience unlimited energy. I don't know what was special about today. But such sparks trigger only once a while. Rest of the time, the mind acts plain lazy.

Well, if the mind was acting a fraction quicker all the time, I'd be great already :)

Ghost From His Past

The clock was inching towards the darkest hours of the night. The chilly wind, the cloudy sky and the dark street made the road feel like a morgue.The leaves of old trees by the road side were singing a haunting melody in the wind. Crawley had just crossed the old cemetary on his way back.  He had heard stories about the cemetary which was infamous for the burials done due to unnatural deaths. His home was just a few blocks away. He never bothered about the stories and the burials. But today, when Crawley felt the cold breeze on his face, it appeared to him that the voices from the grave wanted to tell him a story. His hands were numb, his legs started cramping up and his lungs needed more oxygen. He accelerated across the street as much as his hands could use the throttle. 

Crawley had made it home. His home was the last house in the street. A house that was surrounded by  trees which were older than himself. He hurriedly parked his bike, frantically searched his pockets for the key to the door. He then pulled out the keychain and hurried to the door. Alas!!! There was darkness all around. Power blackout meant that Crawley had to grope in the dark. Using his cellphone display for light, he opened the door. He entered the house and immediately locked the door behind him. The latching of the door echoed throughout the house. 

Crawley instantly felt secure.  Back in familiar territory, he lit up a candle. His dark shadow was beside him. The shadow was almost like a reflection of his heart -  Dark, emotionless and cold. Holding the candle in one hand, he went across the room to drink some water. While he searched for his favourite glass, he noticed the photo on the wall. It was the the last photo before they separated. His face  was barely visible on the photo that was masked in his own shadow. He could see her though. Her eyes had a haunting mystery and happiness. They were not together anymore. Yet he had her picture on his wall. He quietly stared at the photo, a small tear ran down his cheek. He the sipped the water. 

Left with nothing else to do, Crawley lied down. Next to his bed was the balcony door. The door which was stuck. The shadow of the trees painted themselves on the wall through the curtains. There was a guitar on his left. It was his most cherished gift from her. He ensured that it was always beside him. He slowly closed his eyes.

It appeared that the day had finally come to an end.  The wind was whistling a familiar tune through the broken glass of his window. Crawley's eyes were half closed.  Suddenly, he could feel soft hands running through his hair. The touch felt familiar. While he was enjoying the warm hands touching his forehead, he realized that he was alone. When he turned his head, he was schocked. There was no light.Yet he could see the girl. He knew her. He knew the pink gown, he gifted her on a birthday. Her hair was dancing to the tune of the wind. Her love for him was seen through her eyes. She was smiling as she carassed his hair. It was not meant to be...

Crawley could hear his heart pounding away. He could feel his breath turn cold. He jumped out of bed, his feet would not aid him. He crawled his way towards the door frantically searching for the cellphone's flashlight. He rushed out to the balcony. He turned around to his bed. He was relieved, She was not there. He rubbed off the cold sweat on his forehead and made his way to his closet. Now, even his dark shadows scared the hell out of him. He located the cell phone, switched on the inbuilt flash light. He then took out the pills from the medicine cabinet. He needed water. 

As he made his way to the kitchen, he tripped. A loud thud, he was on the floor starting at the ceiling. His favourite photo from the wall was beside him. His mind was filled with fear, sweat was dripping across his face. His palms were wet.  He gathered himself. He had barely made a step, he could see her again. 

He could see her walking towards him with a glass of water. Her eyes conveyed a sense of concern. The expression on the face assured him that he was alright. But he also knew it couldn't be true.There was a flash of light, 

The power was back on. He jumped back into bed, he didnt see her any more.  He could almost feel normal again. He then turned around to see his favourite guitar before he slipped back into sleep. He felt happy looking at it. He could see the best moments of his life in it. His memories  were  there in it too. 

The next morning, there he lay. His eyes were still open. He had his cellphone in one hand and the anti-depressant pills clutched in the other. The Cellphone kept ringing. Her picture kept flashing on the caller ID.