Afternoon Siesta

Cyclist (C): Ah sleep, the doorway to dreams!
Cheshire Cat(CC): And your dreams are mine.
C: Why am I dreaming of a smug cat who knows eveything?
CC: Oh, not everything. Just a lot more than you do.
C: But why?
CC: Because you are lost.
C: I am never lost. It's impossible to be lost when you have no destination.
CC: Maybe you are in the want of a destination, then.
C: You're here to tell me my destination?
CC: Why would I do such a thing?
C: You tell me?
CC : Tell you what? It's your dream, you idiot!

The Cheshire Cat

You may not see me smile to often, but when I do smile, I smile the longest. Some consider me wise, and some, very vain. I am both. Behind this unusual exterior, all too prone to fade away, are codes impossible to crack and decisions impossible to manage, all tied in neat packages and pigeonholed in this calm little head. And this lazy graceful exterior is a perfect facade for a hyperactive mind. Do I know the way to your destination? Of course I do. Will I guide you there? No. It's your journey, not mine. I'm too wise to show you everything. You, of course, would say I'm too catty. And I would smile inwardly, letting you find your own way out.

A Journey before The Journey

The clouds above,
How they flow-
Faster than the
Road below.

A New Land,or Home-
Where to be?
Differences are
All just the same to me.

Catching a drop of fire
In my bare hands
My faithful mirror
The lines in the Sands.

Two wheels, two feet
A never-ending journey.
A view, all new
Life be my victory.

The Cyclist

Life's too beautiful too be viewed from a car. Feel the breeze in your hair today? It was so cold that the tip of my nose is now like a block of ice. My cycle, my companion. It gets around quick enough, can take another along with me, and can always be walked around with if life demands an even gentler pace. The road is a magical place to be at. Never moving yet always travelling. The crunch of gravel and sticks is the perfect background music. I'm off again. Care to join me?

Pixie's Apology

Dear People,
My first two stories worked out pretty well ( I'm pretty proud of them). I'm leaving my current story here, simply because it's too close to life, too personal, too painful. Almost all characters in this story had been modeled on my BITSian friends, friends I would soon say goodbye to, and I just can't write like this anymore. Maybe 'Ending' is the wrong word- I'll revisit the characters and the setting again. But till then, I'd rather have my friends read my characters and wonder, "Was she thinking of me when she made up this one?", and find themselves in the caharcters I had not modeled on anyone in particular at all. Restricting one person in my life to just one character and vice versa just does not feel fair. And to all my friends who became my characters, thank you for reading this humblest, meanest representation of yourself - you're so much more, and I feel so much for all of you that I may never be able to find all the words for it. Stay with me. I'll return with more characters, better stories, and hopefully, stories that are easy enough to let go of and end. Thank you all...

A Common Lament

Stormy Sky, Stormy I-
Time be my enemy, time's timing is off-
I fight it all the time, it has the last laugh.

Sad Sky, Sad Goodbye-
Time made me leave behind the ones I wanted time with,
Too much time to spend with my forced upon kin and kith.

White Sky, White Lie-
Time makes work and pleasure, all arrive in bunches-
Teach me how to attend simultaneously; two tests or two lunches?

Rainy Sky, Rainy Eye-
Reasonless blue moods and nothing to confide-
This time time's just not on my side.

The Random Conversation

Lady Luck (LL): Old books are like amber - they hold so many moments perfectly preserved in them. Some days you'd find a crushed bug, and some days you'd find a carefully preserved rose.

Puppet Master (PM): And the roses are sadder. I've found scribbled notes, faded bookmarks and spilled wax in them- old books tell more stories than just the ones written in them.

LL: And what of your stories? You've won a battle rather closely, but what next? Days are now running like empty pages- crushed and used up, but blank. When did life get so uneventful?

PM: This, too, shall pass. Your work will expand and the time will contract. They are on autofit mode. And ther's plenty enough to do , come to think of it.

LL: There always is. I'm just feeling old.

PM: Riiiiiiiiiight. Up and at 'em!

LL: At whom , Sir?