Late Night Journal

12.30 am

It is very late and in most cases a person should be asleep at this time, unless their work involves them to stay awake at these ungodly hours or if they believe they are energetic enough to party this late. Either way, my reason is neither.

I am awake because it seems like some weird sort of insomnia has held my body as a paralytic host. It’s not like I don’t feel sleepy but every time I lay down on my bed and try to go to sleep I cannot manage the simple enough task.

At those moments, I do what most people in that situation do; twist and turn on the little piece of cotton filled fluff I call a mattress and make myself believe that probably changing the angle of curvature of my legs or arms would make my body comfortable enough to enter into a voluntarily induced, vulnerable state of temporary coma which we so casually call sleep.

I believe writing about it might make me tired enough to fall in that deep slumber. Who knows maybe it works; maybe it doesn’t.

1.25 am

I twisted and turned a little more and then decided to watch an episode of Two and Half Men. Maybe the boring jokes that the show has resorted to after kicking out Charlie Sheen would lull me to sleep.

No progress. Oh! The jokes were boring, don’t get me wrong; but I still cannot fall asleep.

Maybe if I listen to some soothing music. That could help.

1.58 am

Bad move listening to soothing music.

Why does soothing music always have water flowing through it? Now I have to get out of the comfort of my bed and go to the toilet across the hall. This sucks! No more soothing music when I come back.

On second though, maybe I don’t need to go.

Okay, I do. It’s just that I am so comfortably tucked in my bed that it all seems like a huge task. My body really wants to torment me today.

2.22 am

So, I was at the washroom when I realized that I can try out that Bloody Mary thing people keep talking about.

Apparently, if you say “Bloody Mary” in your bathroom mirror five times between midnight and 4 am, some demon is supposed to attack you or something.

Well, I am still writing this, so you can be sure that nothing like that has happened. Bunch of fools who in believe in that, I swear.

This gives me a great idea. Maybe I can read some stories in Creepy Pasta. That would probably scare me to sleep.

3.05 am

Alright, it was a bad move to read Creepypasta.

There is some utterly crazy stuff out there. Don’t look at it.

Although, there was this one piece which warned me not to read if it was night time. Who cares? I survived Bloody Mary, I could survive that.

It was a long post but here is what it said in the beggining

If you are reading this, please make sure it is day time. I am warning you. This is not one of those internet stories you read and forget. I am very serious.

If you read this at night, things of inexplicable nature will happen to you. Especially the incantation at the end of the story.

Yes, I am talking to you. The stranger reading this at 3.00 am in the night.

I will agree the 3 am thing really got to me, but they could easily have tracked the time in my region from my IP address. A clever move nonetheless. (I have left the incantation out for the weak-hearted people out there)

3.15 am

Still no sign of sleep but things are getting a little weird. My room suddenly became cold. It’s very weird. The thermostat still shows ambient temperature. Maybe the whole sleep deprived state is making me ill. I have to check it out.

3.18 am

I am fine. No need to worry but I still feel cold.

And I really feel like slitting my wrist open right now.

Whoa! Where did that come from? I guess, it must be the late night, sleep deprived state of mine. I will let it be. Would be humorous when I read it later.

3.23 am

I just noticed that cold breeze seems to be coming from behind me.

Like someone is breathing down my neck. It is making goosebumps rise. It’s not funny anymore. I look at myself in the mirror right beside my work table. I can see that I am really tired. Probably if I just go—

I BLINKED! I mean, my reflection. I just saw it blink. This is not a joke. I just saw my reflection blink at me! I don’t know what is wrong. I have to check it out.

3.26 am

Alright. I am not sure what is happening anymore.

I am not dreaming this shit up! As I kept looking at my reflection, it started to move towards me. I swear it was moving when I was standing still. I thought it would—I would—step out of the mirror any moment.

I punched the mirror and it has shattered into pieces. There is blood flowing down my hand but I am compelled to write this.

Now, all I have to do is pick up a piece of glass and slit my wrist.

No! No! I didn’t mean to write that. I can’t even remove it now. I tried but I keep writing it again.

I am forcing myself to stop now and bandage my hand.

3.51 am

This is probably the last update before I go to sleep.

I have patched up my hand and am writing this on my phone since I dare not go to my work desk anymore. My keyboard is all bloody. Will have to clean it up in the morning

Before that I am going to make him take that glass and cut himself just like I did 30 years ago. This man is going to suffer and if you are reading this, you are going to suffer as well!!

I don’t know what is happening. I can feel a strange force driving me to do stuff.

Carcera Kocutt Dusphile

I hope you didn’t read that!

That was the incantation from the story.

Please, if you have read it. Hide Now! I am serious. Whatever it is, is already going to make me kill myself. Please save yourself.

I don’t want to die. Please, send help at this address as quickly as you can. This is my address.

171 North Qdfvc cbvbn mvb

4.00 am

He is dead. And you are next!

The Sleepless Night

Three o’ clock in the morning and I still cannot sleep. It has been a bad day. I feel useless, maybe I was.

I turn around and look at her comfortably sprawled all over her side of the bed, having no clue whatsoever how I felt, looking as innocent as ever.

Her hair spreading over the pillow like lightning in a rainy day—simply awe inspiring. If I concentrate hard enough, I can smell the shampoo she uses. The familiar smell that I had gotten so used to living with yet every time I smelt it, my heart skipped a beat because I knew she was around.
Her face, which she thought could not look good without make up, lay there in all its natural glory. Her pink lips forming a small smile as she dreams about something, which I could only believe was, pleasant as she is. I wanted to kiss them but I dare not since I might wake her up.

I remain content in watching for afar and admiring her small nose as I hear her take small breaths of air. Breaths which made her chest heave up and down stopping ever so slightly at each extreme. Her night dress sticks to her breasts ever so gently, outlining her curves. There is something about those curves that even after so many years I cannot get enough of. She shifts gently in her sleep, to uncover the body under her night dress.
I can see her navel. When she was getting it pierced, I had told her that it will not look good on her. I am glad that I had been wrong. At this point, I believed that any part of her body she might get pierced would instill in me a similar emotion.
My eyes wander to her hips. The slender curve of her waist as it signified the end of her belly and beginning of her buxom bottom. Her derriere rising from her waist had made me weak in the knees so many times.
In all, she looked like she had stepped out right from heaven’s door.

If an angel like this could believe in me, enough to stick around with me and bear me, there was no possible way I could be useless. There was no way in which I could have a bad day if I am returning to her at the end of it.

I put my hand on hers and gently kiss her cheek. It woke her up.

‘What are doing up this late?’ she speaks in a sleepy voice. It makes my heart jump. ‘Were you watching porn?’

‘No,’ I look at her, pull my covers back up and smile. ‘Something even better.’

Break In

In response to Blogging University’s Writing 101 Daily Task: One-word Inspiration

Prompt: Home

It was almost close to one o’ clock in the night. There would be no better time to strike.

Fred checked again if every light in the house was still off and nodded his head – it was.

He observed both sides of the street carefully to make sure there was nobody watching, especially the neighbors.
If any of the neighbors saw him, there would be no point him managing to sneak into the house at all.

All clear. He took a deep breath. There was just one more thing he had to look out for.
According to his calculation the car belonging to city watch should pass by any minute. Only once they are out of sight, would he move to implement his plan.

Fred waited a bit further down the streets, in the cover of shadows. Every breath he exhaled formed a wisp of smoke as it froze in front of him. He rubbed his hands to generate a little heat and put them in his pocket. The worst part of waiting was probably the cold which would onset in the wee hours.

It did not take long for the city watch car to appear in the horizon. Within a minute, it passed in front of the house Fred was aiming to break into and then passed him, without much of a second glance, as it continued down the street. There was no way he would have been visible in the shroud of darkness but even if he was, they did not seem to care about his presence.

As soon as the car was gone, he scampered to the front door and turned the handle softly. It was locked—obviously—but he had to check. If it had been open, half his work would have been done. He looked around the yard for places where the key would generally be hidden.

Not under the door mat. Not under on the ledge above the door. Not taped under the mailbox. There it is!

He finally found it in a very suspicious piece of granite which clearly did not belong with the rest of the stones in the garden.

Fred smiled. Sometimes, things are too easy.

He unlocked the door and carefully stepped inside. He made sure not to make any noise as he tip-toed to the kitchen. All the wait had made him thirsty, he needed to drink some water before he proceeded upstairs.

But, as soon as he stepped in the kitchen he realized that he had committed a grievous mistake. The moment he stepped in, the lights came on and the owner of the house could be visibly seen seated near the dining table.

Fred froze in his tracks. He had been caught red handed. There was no other way out of it now except to apologize and accept his mistake.

He looked down on the ground. ‘Sorry, mom’ he said. ‘It got late at the party.’

Super Market Dilemma

Supermarkets – A magical land where I enter to buy JUST one carton of juice but hours later find myself pushing a trolley of goods, wondering how I got caught up in the deadly trap.

It’s like a Venus flytrap for humans. It gives us a sweet offering only to suck us into an endless spiral of ‘Do I need this right now or do I have enough at home?

Venus Flytrap

I was at the supermarket, the other day, carrying a trolley full of snacks to take back home. This time, though, it was not the case of me being sucked in. I had planned the visit since I knew I had to stay up a few nights for some work and it gets really annoying to cook something in the middle of the night. Even waiting for the leftover from the refrigerator to heat up in the microwave seems like a drag.

Anyway, so I was at the supermarket with my trolley and I kept it on the side of the aisle so that there was enough space for other people to walk by as I looked at the items on the shelf.

Aisle to Aisle
Aisle to Aisle

I was generally shifting my gaze from one product to another when it fell on a Kellogg’s breakfast cereal and I stopped. I don’t remember exactly what the flavour was but I do remember thinking, ‘Why does this flavour exist? Who even eats this?

It was kept at the bottom shelf so I was crouching down to inspect it, when I heard something stir inside my trolley.

I quickly got up, half expecting a mouse in my cart, which could entitle me to free products from the mart in exchange for my silence. But, alas, it was not so.

Some lady had picked up a pack of Oreo biscuit from my trolley and was inspecting it.

Twist, Lick, Dunk
Twist, Lick, Dunk

I was ready to answer her question about where to find them but instead of that she just took my biscuit and started walking away. Well, not my biscuit, yet, but I had carefully chosen it among the hundreds of others.

I could almost hear them speak out to me, ‘please save us. We want to enter your digestive tract, not hers.’

‘Excuse me,’ I said.

‘Yes?’ she looked at me like I had knocked on her home door in the middle of the night.

‘Those are mine.’

‘No they aren’t.’

‘They were kept in my cart,’ I pointed to the cart she had just taken the biscuits from.

‘Oh, I thought it was unmanned,’ she said. Obviously, anybody with common sense would assume that she was going to return it but instead she continued, ‘but I already picked it thinking it to be an unmanned cart, so, I guess you have to get another one. There isn’t any rule which says I have to give it back to you.’

I know people shouldn’t be judged quickly but boy, was this woman thick-skulled. As much as all the muscles in my body were telling me to, I did not want to head-butt a lady in the middle of the supermarket so I let her go. And well, she was right – there was no rule to it.

But, I really think that there should be! Today a packet of Oreo, tomorrow the whole trolley. When will this madness end?!

In the end she got away with the biscuit and I got away with not going to prison for assaulting a middle-aged woman in the supermarket. So, it worked out fine, I guess.

On a positive note, I did get the last laugh. During check out, she joined the line before me but as soon as I reached to check out, they opened a new line, so I got to go first in that and she remained standing at the back of the other! In her face!

If you have faced a similar situation, pray tell how you dealt with it. Till then, from one writer to another, WRITE ON!

If You Are Reading This

Activity of Daily Task from Blogging 101

Today’s activity involves us writing from the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt. Ha! Piece of cake.

Many Pieces Actually
Many Pieces Actually

I have been writing from prompts my whole life.

Well, not my whole life but my whole blogging life.

Well, actually, not even my whole blogging life. Some of the posts are my own thought, some are inspired, some are… What I mean to say is that I have written on the basis of many blogging prompts. (See, this doesn’t sound as fancy. The “whole life” thing was so cool!)

This prompt comes from the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Community Service

Now, I know you guys would be lazy and wont click on the link to find out what the prompt is so I will write it here. (Don’t blame you, actually—would have done the same if I were in your place).

The prompt says
Your entire community — however you define that; your hometown, your neighborhood, your family, your colleagues — is guaranteed to read your blog tomorrow. Write the post you’d like them all to see.

Okay, then. *inhale*

Alright, then. *exhale*

No pressure at all. Everyone I know is going to read this and I feel no pressure at all. *breath deeply*

Deep Breaths
Take Deep Breaths

Are you kidding me? Everyone I know is going to read this?!

I am anonymous, how did you find my blog? How did you know I even write a blog? How did grandma know how to use the internet without calling me twice? So many questions, none that can be answered but I just have to go on writing.

First up, Mom, Dad, I have to tell you something. I write a blog. I know it is pretty obvious now that you are here and reading it but I don’t want to have a conversation later where you tell me that I never tell you what I keep doing in life.

Great, now that that’s out of the way…

Oh wait! There is one more thing – To my family. If you decide to read a few other posts in the blog they might contain words such as…, well words after which you would generally try to wash my mouth with soap.

Clean The Filthy Mouth
Clean The Filthy Mouth

As surprising as it may seem, yeah, I know them.

To my colleagues, if you happen to find a post here where I wrote something about not liking people at work, rest assured it’s not about you. It’s about those IT guys in the bottom floor. Unless, you are the IT guys from the bottom floor, in which case, it is totally about those guys in my floor.

Apparently, my neighbor is also reading this. Obviously, using my wi-fi. Yes, I know—I just don’t change the password because of decency and the fact that I have an unlimited data plan. By the way, you should know that I can access your searches (yes, even the incognito mode ones). Also, your dog is really loud.

Oh! If you are the pretty girl who stays above me, that paragraph was not for you and your cat is totally not loud, especially at two o’ clock at night.

My friends who happen to be reading this, all I would like to say is—nothing. Go, sod off! You all forget to invite me to parties and then come here to read my blog? Go away! (But seriously, invite me next time, okay?)

So, to all of you, as you can see, I am internet celebrity now even though I am anonymous. I mean, I manage to get a humongous total of 10 likes on my posts (Well a few them have managed to reach 10).

So, stick around and read more of my posts and have fu…

…Where are you all going? I write well. Okay, slightly well. Fine, I spew out nonsensical words.

Come back, please! I will get better. I promise.


Award : No Award

Getting a blog award is a great thing, isn’t it? I mean, who does not like getting appreciated for their work.

The thing about getting these blog awards is that it puts you in a powerful position. And I think we all remember what is said about power, don’t we?

great power

And I would honestly like to say that I do not deserve to hold such a responsibility.

I understand that some awards are meant to promote my own blog and build a harmony in the blogging environment but it is very difficult to follow the meticulous detail (I already have a tough time following a recipe to make food for myself in the morning!).

Plus, a lot of them involve answering questions about myself. It kinds of puts me at an awkward position trying to answer some of them while maintaining anonymity.

So to all those people who have awarded me and to all those who are thinking of awarding me. I would like to thank you for the recognition but would like to gracefully decline.

My idea of recognition would be for us to like or share each other’s posts and have a discussion in the comment sections about those posts (seems like I nice idea – I hope?). If you want to have a more one-to-one discussion—which I am sure you don’t want to—you can always send me an email: (would help if you drop a comment about the mail).

So, that’s it, I am done. If you are disappointed, I get it. You can shower all your hate on me. I am ready for it.

Having said all that, I do not mind answering questions as long as it does not render my blog name useless. So I am answering the questions without accepting the award.

Blabberwockying! asked me these thought provoking questions.

Q. What is life according to you?

Still trying to figure this out. As of now, I can say it is achieving and sharing happiness.

*one for you, one for you, one for you…*

Q. What is your goal or mission in life, if any.

World Domination (Through my work, of course – what did you think?)

Q. What is your favorite film(s)?

The Prestige (2006)

Q. What quality you like most about yourself?

The ability to not answer the question like they were intended to be answered.

Q.  Who are your heroes or role models?

The Answer is – Batman. Its always Batman!

Batman Always
Batman Always

Q. Which is your dream destination?

Hogwarts. *Plays Harry Potter Music in the background*

Q. What do you prefer in life Peace or Success. Are they different for you. Why?

I am at peace when doing my work, which leads me to success. So, one sort of leads to another. So, they are both same same, but different, but still same.

Same but Different
Same but Different

Q. What are your hobbies?

I’m like Homer Simpson. I try my hand at everything but in the end always like eating the best. (yes, eating can be a hobby)

Eat What You See
Eat What You See

Q. Do you feel good about yourself, people around you and life in general?

Yeah, mostly. Except when I have to wake up in the morning. ‘Just 5 more minutes,’ is the biggest lie I tell myself everyday.

Q. What is the importance of gratitude according to you, if any?

Thank you for asking this question. 😛
Be grateful for things, so that life can give you more things to be grateful for.

Twisted Top in Flip Flops asked me these wonderfully cheeky questions.

Q. Choose a superpower and its complimenting Kryptonite, and explain to the world why?

I already have a superpower. The ability to do anything I want. It’s kryptonite – procrastination.

Q. Who is your favorite author who reflects your life and personality in their writing?

There is none. And none that can depict my personality in their writing but Joanne’s Harry Potter series is what pushed me to write better since I was young, so I will pick her.

Q. What flavor would you describe yourself as? And Why?

Chili because having me around just makes everything just that much sizzling.

Q. If you have to observe the world as a ghost, what would you see?

I would probably spend the time walking through walls.

Q. What is the one topic you would like to write about, but have always postponed?

I like this question. I think I will answer this later. 😉

I would be glad to take any more questions but no awards please. I won’t answer questions as quickly as comments. Sometimes it may take weeks, so be warned. (This should keep all the inquisitive bunch away).

Unfair Habit of the Sore Eye

Activity of Daily Task from Blogging 101

The whole street had, finally, been encamped by a dreary lull. Even someone who might have been there ten minutes before, would have found the place to be unfamiliar and eerie.

Christmas was always like this. One minute the whole place was buzzing with shoppers and the next second it was silent and cold. It was the shopkeeper’s paradise in sales and a hell in work effort. For Lionel Macias things weren’t different.

His chocolate shop was considered to be the best in town and his renown did not end in his city alone. During Christmas, he would receive orders for delivery of chocolate for places too far away to reach. Work would commence months before the actual festival so that there remained no shortcomings when the day finally arrived.

He almost finished cleaning his collection from the display case when a boy walked into the store. The boy looked like he was considering to buy something from the store but his clothes spoke otherwise. His T-Shirt looked like a dirty grey rag which could easily have been used to wipe the floor, and probably at some time was used for the exact purpose. His pants were tattered, torn in enough places to have lost most of its purpose—to cover the legs. Unless he was an actor straight out of a Christmas play, he had no business being in the shop.

‘We’re closed,’ Lionel said. He did not want to get into a verbal spat with a homeless boy. It was Christmas Eve and he was very tired.

‘Are you going to throw them out?’ he was pointing at the basket of chocolates Lionel was about to carry inside.

‘I am going to store them in my refrigerator.’

‘Can I… Could you… Would you be kind enough to give one to me?’ the boy said.

Lionel looked at him with uncertainty. ‘Why?’

‘I am hungry.’

‘Listen, I don’t run a charity here. Plus, it’s not like one would satisfy your hunger anyway.’

The boy looked dejected and hung his head.

Lionel felt a bit sad for him. He took one piece out of the basket and kept it on the counter top.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘Take this. Because it’s Christmas.’

The boy rushed to take the chocolate in his hand. He cupped it like a prized possession and rushed out.

‘Wow,’ Lionel muttered under his breath. What an ungrateful guy. What was it with him and chocolate? He can’t afford decent food and he had come asking for chocolate. What did he assume – getting one chocolate will change his way of living? What a naive kid.

Lionel shook his head and went back to closing his shop.

A few hundred meters away the boy in tattered clothes entered an alley. The walls on both side provided protection from the cold winds of the night.

He walked to the dead end where another child, younger than him, was lying under bare protection of worn out blankets.

‘Wake up,’ the older boy shook his brother awake.

‘What is it?’ the younger boy looked up irritably.

‘I met Santa.’

This got the little boy’s attention. ‘You did?’

‘Yes, and asked me to give you this,’ he opened his hand to reveal the chocolate he had just acquired. ‘This is the one you wanted, right?’

‘Yes,’ the younger boy quickly attacked the prize. ‘Did Santa tell when mom and dad will be back?’

‘Yes, he said we have to wait for a few more days. Till then, you can have the chocolate.’

The little boy started munching on the chocolate. ‘Merry Christmas,’ he said between bites.

‘Merry Christmas,’ his brother replied as he hugged him.

Inspired by Nina Karadzic’s post in her blog In Noir Velvet

There was another blog (looking at you Sincerely, Hil) which gave me an idea for a story but that one I will keep for the non-masked version of me.

Note: I hadn’t written a serious fiction for the blog in a long time and thought to do it today. Would like to hear what you think about my interpretation of Nina’s words (after all, short writings can mean so much) or even my story, in general.

Missing Breakfasts

Staying in a hostel, I got into this, albeit not so good, habit of staying up late watching movies, playing games or sometimes doing random nothing on the night before a weekend or a holiday. This generally caused me to miss breakfast those days.

An observant and slightly inquisitive friend of mine asked me why I miss breakfast. ‘Do you not like the breakfast in mess?’

‘I like the breakfast in mess,’ I replied calmly. ‘That is the only meal which I like in the mess. In fact, I like breakfast so much that if it were up to me I would have had breakfast for lunch and dinner as well.’

There was a slight pause as I swallowed a large swig of my coffee.

‘It’s just that, I like sleep even more.’