midnightnarrationbyroo

books, chaos, and morally grey men

[memehumor]

[livelovelaugh-777]

[peony911-2]

HALLELUJAH

AMEN

[acousticrose]

The Bishop Moves:

My favourite piece on the chessboard is the BISHOP.

Despite being the most ordinary-looking piece with an even more ordinary move

If you miss the Bishop you're done for, I just love how it cuts across the board obliterating the other pieces in its way. It's like you should've seen this coming' energy at its peak. It looks harmless but punishes you for underestimating it.

On some days I feel it's very lonely, not understood, loved but not in the way it wants to be loved. It sticks out like a sore thumb despite its ordinary looks.

Yet, I wanna be the Bishop.

Not flashy, not loud, just, something unique.

[acousticrose]

Sun'o Clock

No matter how bad an artist I am, even I managed to master the most famous drawing every Indian kid learns. So seeing that drawing come to life felt thrilling, and it was a completely valid reason for the wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression I wore on my face.

No, this wasn't magic realism, just nature playing football with our hearts while flaunting her beauty.

To not leave out any detail, I’ll start from the night before, when the mountains began their catwalk on the runway that was the sky.

I breathed out loudly from under the unbreakable blanket castle I had built to protect myself from the biting 2° cold as the countdown started.

The flames in the fireplace slowly died down and the clock struck twelve.

The locals bellowed, “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

I looked out through the huge wall made entirely of glass. No, this wasn’t my penthouse in New York, just a resort we had managed to discover on our 100th trip to the mountains. Courtesy of Maa, who had spent the previous two months scrolling through travel blogs and reciting the names of tiny hill stations like they were part of our neighbourhood.

Fireworks burst out from the valleys.

The mountains, eerily silent the whole night, lit up with fire-flowers. The New Year’s sky brightened and filled with light, carrying hope and the promise of a better year to everyone witnessing the scene.

Whoever said some things can’t be captured by a camera wasn’t lying; they really do live better in the lens of our eyes.

I smiled lightly as Maa nudged me and said, “Make your New Year’s resolution. Make some new promises to yourself this year. Morph into an even better version of yourself.”

I mumbled a resolution that is long forgotten now and drifted off to sleep.

A bright light hit my eyelids before I even opened them. When they finally fluttered open, they were blessed with a sight that refuses to leave my heart even today.

A red ball slowly rose from between the mountain valleys. An orangish hue surrounded it, and the mountains reflected back a strange mixture of yellow and orange. The sunlight bounced off the hills like it was playing tag, and the red ball, now much more prominent, finally registered as the sun in my sleepy brain.

I’ve seen a sunrise before, once even from between the “land of marshmallows” during a return flight from Goa. But even that remained defeated by what I experienced that day.

It was a very different daybreak, January 1st, 2023.

[memehumor]

[memehumor]

[frontmansdog]

[memehumor]

[acousticrose]

Random family on the train lore:

The woman immediately went:

“omg it’s dry!”

still no clue why she expected moisture.

Then the father looked at the kids and said:

“Don’t talk to me. Don’t ask me anything. Ask your mother. Not me.”

Like a customer service representative who gave up 2 minutes into his shift.

Meanwhile the children were operating on completely different frequencies.

The sister was naming every place she had ever heard of like she was manually updating the GPS.

The younger brother was passionately listing foods he loves.

Mostly potatoes and puris.

No plot. Just a raw train ecosystem.

[acousticrose]

When I grow up

I wanna be a maid.

That was 2-year-old me's first ambition. Being a maid gave me the chance to clean the house, wash dishes, and crush spices. Coolest job ever, so naturally that is exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up.

But then diabolically my next ambition was to be a princess. Reason? Simple; I won't have to work, people around me will do my bidding and make my tea. I realised my priorities early in life.

But then, priorities change, and I wanted to be Spider-Man.

Why? I get to climb stuff, and 5-year-old me was rather fond of climbing things, and tall people.

So the one time I got bitten by a weird-looking green coloured spider while cycling, my small brain thought that was the radioactive spider that had turned Peter Parker and this was my chance. It was practically destiny, the world was calling for their new Spider-Man aka. Me.

So I dropped my precious cycle, ran up the stairs all the way up to the 4th floor because Spiderman doesn't need elevators and did the most Spiderman thing; started climbing walls.

But the ability to climb walls was not a new ability, since my monkey self was already an expert at that so I tried the next best thing; throw webs. Well, what a surprise!!! It didn't work!!!!

Now back then I wasn't as pessimistic and held onto the hope that this meant the chemicals were just slow and there were still chances of me becoming Spider-Man. But my father had to shatter little me's hopes and spray antiseptics on it.

Boy was I devastated. I cried like I had lost my lover. My chances at becoming Spider-Man were permanently ruined.

So I grew up. I wanted to be a doctor next. Every guest was my patient. Poked and prodded at until they never returned.

Next? A space scientist, space facts are thrown at people's faces faster than spit.

But nowadays I just wanna be a kid again.

[acousticrose]

Plastic-er Biral-tattva:

Is that a cat?

That’s what I wonder as I sit by my window every day. That spot on my bed by the window is my haven. Each day, Lord Shellington rests there gazing outside, and I join him at odd hours whenever I feel done with the world.

In the heap of branches right opposite my spot, I see a white plastic bag eerily shaped like a cat, stuck there.

Each day passes and I expect it to go, “Ahem ahem, meow.”

Now I’m either turning into Sukumar Ray or that plastic is genuinely a cat camouflaging as a plastic bag, because I swear I’ve seen whiskers on it.

Though I’m not sure what a plastic cat gains by hiding there day and night, but you never know… it might be some odd business tactic.