Pseudo Writer

All of it seems well and good, until when its not. When the dread you were avoiding, comes crawling, creating a sense of security, as it creeps upon your fate. And then you realize you weren’t ready, how could you be? You never considered it a threat, being intentionally blind. But now you can’t turn your back, it’s someone you know. There’s not a lot you can do now, except face it. With an unsteady hold on yourself, now you fight. I don’t blame you dear friend, at least not now. You just made one mistake; you believed that if it was too far, it could never happen to you. and as you closed your eyes, you were out of reach of everything; With all courage I can muster, I ask, how did that work out for you?                     -Sushant Kumar Das

This place where I have lived for twenty years of my life, trust me, it has a beautiful soul. I remember it as an old man, sitting at the corner of my street, with eyes full of warmth and wisdom, that follow my existence to this day. I very often used to complain to him, why he preferred brown and dirty soil, when the new kids were adopting grey. I shouted at him, for every time I fell on the soil and got dirty while playing. Smiling at me, he often entertained my arguments and laughed at my tantrums. But he never said what he wanted to, he would just use his calloused hands, and remove the dust from my knees. I would go home dirty, but never hurt. He left the corner of my street years ago, and some new kid lives there now. But I still find him hiding among clouds, looking at the new kid who levelled all that he had worked hard to preserve, under layers and layers of grey. He understands the world doesn’t stop, but still when it rains and the grey hides, he hopes to see those little pa...