Books and Me

I read books of all kinds

Books torn or intact, books that are wild

And those that are tame

Books describing war

And famine

And those that speak of plenty

And peace

Books are my first friends

Some I won, others I was given

Some I found amidst dirty shelves

In foreign houses

Others I came by on the streets

I have but one request

If there is a kingdom of heaven

Point me to the library

The Bilge Master

Haunt

I

Dear diary,

I think I am going mad. I don't know what to do, but I'll tell you about it. 

It started around two weeks ago, when they released me from hospital. My girlfriend did not make it. Her injuries from the car crash were too severe. I came home with my arm in a sling and to worried pair of parents. They were very happy I was okay, but they sensed something was wrong, especially mother who is a Libra.

The first weird thing that happened was the flickering of the lights. Every evening at seven o clock, all the lights in the house would start to flicker and sometimes go out entirely. They came back on after some time but it was spooky.

Then, things started disappearing. Small stuff at first- a few spoons, a small jug, some candles- nothing major. My mother thought they had been misplaced and didn't pay too much mind to them. Something spooky happened the other night. It was raining. The lights flickered as usual and went out. Suddenly the ferocity of the storm increased and we had to shut the windows. While I was shutting the ones in my room, a lightning bolt fell, lighting up the yard.

And I saw her standing there.

My girlfriend with a bandaged arm was standing stock still in the backyard, dressed in the same white slacks and tee shirt she wore on the day of the car crash. I thought I was seeing things at first- tricks of the light. I paid it no mind, shut the windows and left the room.

For about a week, the lights flickered regularly. My father went to check the fuses and earthing of the house for potential flaws but everything was okay. Meanwhile more things started to disappear- bigger things this time- a clock from the mantelpiece, a figurine of a woman in a blue dress and some books.

Also, a new symptom developed. I started to have nightmares about the night of the crash. They were vivid and described the crash very well. My girlfriend  featured in all of them. She looked at me out of hollowed eyes and asked me why I hadn't saved her when I had the chance.

II

Dear diary,

This is the second time I am writing about all of this. That feeling of going mad has increased.  I keep hearing her voice in my head. The lights flicker more violently these days and mother says she feels something evil lurking in the house. Seeing as all this was putting a strain on us, we came away from the house for a quiet weekend at a small hotel.

But it was not to be. The lights in my room flicker constantly and I see my girlfriend in the bathroom mirror.  She keeps getting closer and closer and more defined with each passing minute. I think she has come for me. I am scared out of my wits and I feel persecuted.

III

Dear diary,

It's getting worse. The voices keep getting louder and louder and my girlfriend is there in a selfie I took. She was sitting on my shoulder. I feel more and more sure that she has come for me. I don't know what to do.

IV

Dear diary,

I'm stuck with her. No matter where I go or what I do, she is perched on my shoulder. I am the only one that sees her. None of the other people do- neither friends nor family. I told my parents about this and we conducted an exorcism. It seems like she is gone. The misplaced things were found and the lights no longer flicker. I think the worst is behind us.

V

Dear diary,

The voices are getting worse. They keep calling me back to the scene of the crash. I'm not sure if I should go. Maybe going there would help solve this puzzle.

Contd.- I went to the site of the crash. My car had been towed away and the scene seemed calm.  Then, I saw her again. She raised a finger and beckoned me towards her. I turned tail and ran. I'm writing this with a stiff drink in my hand. I have no idea if this is real or some sort of illness that has taken over me. The voices never stop.

VI

Dear diary,

She's sitting on my shoulder as I write this and I've accepted that she will haunt me forever. The voices have been getting louder and louder and accusatory in tone. She never speaks. She just sits there on my shoulder. This is my last diary entry, written while I am still sane. There is a gun in the house. I think I'll use it. This torture has to end. 

Goodbye

The Bilge Master

The Blinking Cursor

Most of the time when I am demotivated, I turn to my family and friends for help. This is especially when it's been a bad hair day and even shampoo has given up on me as a lost cause, leaving me looking like a devastated area.

Like all writers, on occasion I suffer from writer's block, which is really, really frustrating. At such times, I open Word and stare at the blank page for a few minutes before striking  my keyboard keys to form words.

Sometimes the words come, other times they don't.

I would like to point out the one constant companion that a writer has while he types on his keyboard. The blinking cursor.

It sits there and winks at you every two seconds, telling you it's ready and waiting to imprint words. It tries it's best to ensure you don't feel alone when you're writing anything and is always ready to work with you, even when you ask it to type ten thousand words. Yet we never notice this gem of a creation. The cursor plays with us and toys with our emotions. It sits there and blinks while you are trying your best to break out of a block. It is both condescending and supporting. At times it is the Devil, at other times it is the voice of God.

Come what may, it is waiting for the next keystroke, even when none comes.

It is silently watching, waiting and winking.

The Bilge Master 

Replacement

The days of my youth

A world where people

Existed without Facebook

Or Instagram

And instead sat on porches

Swinging life away with a cup of coffee

When conversations happened face  to face

Instead of Skype to Skype

And simple pleasures were treasures

The feeling of

Getting  a new book to read

The thrill of making a friend in the field

The long  chat sessions after school ended

The happy go lucky and carefree days

 Have been replaced

By computer screens and WhatsApp

As we say our goodbyes over Messenger

And wonder what to tweet about next

Replacement is a dangerous thing

Because it can backfire

And cause sadness as well as happiness

I miss the days of my youth

And realize my father told me the truth

When he said

Son each day is precious

Use your days well!

The Bilge Master

Bitter Goodbye

I  am a survivor staring out at the wreckage after a storm

Watching the splinters of wood float by carried in the sea's arms

Nautically speaking I am a novice

And the crew I sailed with full of bad choices

But I'm the one that made it out alive

Despite the worst gales and tempests

That claimed the lives of all the men on board

I survived to tell the tale of this naval conquest

In the tempest tossed silence, I can still hear their screams

My heart will never be the same

For I lived and watched others die

And now I bid the sea a bitter goodbye

The Bilge Master

Emptiness- A Guest Post by Mary Katerine

This is a post written by a friend in Romania called Mary Katerine. It is written in memory of her grandfather who passed away a year ago. My condolences go out to Mary and her family and I am honoring her request to have this put up here on the blog

The Bilge Master

Emptiness

You know the emptiness

Of the sad room

You used to live in?

The emptiness

Of those left behind

Trying  to figure out

How to live their lives?

The emptiness

Of the book I gave you

Before you died

And of the characters

You never got to meet?

The emptiness

Of the love paralyzed,

Of the tears wept

When you had to leave?