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A Letter

by | Wednesday, 1 May 2019 | Musings, Prose

So I’ve been using an app called Slowly for a while and I received a very interesting letter on it. It was pretty well written but since it’s from a person I don’t know, I’m not sure if I can actually post it here. However, the gist of the letter was that you were on top of a building and suddenly a pigeon drops a letter near you and waits there for an answer. I’ve waited a while before I could do justice to the original and finally framed a reply. So here it is…

I slowly put my hand into my bag and get out the sandwich which my mom packed for lunch. I’m surprised that the pigeon has waited expectantly for so long and doesn’t seem the least bit afraid. It looks it has done this quite a few times.

I’m not sure if I could just pick up a pen and write back. I absently pick pieces of bread and drop them a little away from me. The pigeon flies and pecks at those crumbs. It looks expectantly at me and I wonder whether it is anxious for more of the sandwich or for the reply that it hopes to be able to deliver back home.

Once again the thought intruded: “Dare I pick up a pen and write back?” I guess I will and I slowly rip a page out of my book and start writing.

“Dear friend of the pigeon,

Hope this letter finds you well. I also hope that the pigeon has managed to deliver this letter without facing anything untoward.

I live in a city where the streets are always awake. There’s construction for the new metro line which is ongoing and there’s a high chance that you’d get stuck in a traffic jam even at midnight. Yes, recently there have been times when I have left from work so late.

Knowing that I’d generally get stuck on the road, I catch up on my reading or watch an episode of some show on my way to and from work. I read a lot and tend to do some writing on the side. Though it’s been a while with the writing, I’m starting to get a fee for it again.

In my head, I love traveling, but then I tend to be lazy enough to not be the initiator of any plans. However, I intend to change that in the future.

Other than that I have a love for food and gaming on my PC which almost happens at the same rate as my reading (which is very high).

Enough about me, I hope to hear back from you about you. Maybe this pigeon will find a way back to me once you’ve decided to write back.

Wish you a good day.”

I roll it up and use the ribbon from the letter I received to tie it to the pigeon’s leg. I’m still surprised that it hasn’t flown away or just hopped away when I approach.

I give a few more crumbs of my sandwich and start walking away. I hear a flutter and look back to see the pigeon flying northwards.

What adventures will it have? Will it reach its final destination? Who uses such an archaic way of messaging anymore? So many questions, so few answers. Maybe I’ll know them someday.

If you’d like to add me on Slowly, my ID is: NB6N8R

A Tiny Tale

by | Friday, 22 February 2019 | Prose

He went rushing through the door. People surrounded him, but nothing could stop him now. The adrenalin was pumping and he kept running. He wanted to wait for a bit and catch his breath, but he didn’t want to, couldn’t afford to. He could hear screams and cries all around him, and he tried to focus but it was too much.

He kept running through the corridor and up the stairs but the screams never seemed to die. A few of the lights flickered, giving the corridor an eerie feel. He stopped and looked around. He could have almost sworn that he had seen something… or someone. Nothing looked amiss; maybe it was the flickering lights that caused some sort of hallucination. He walked on ahead and he could hear more wailing and crying, but this time he smiled.

He opened the door and kissed his wife. He was going to name the boy James.