(This is the fourth part of an ongoing prose series in this blog, the first part was Mindreader, the second was Mindreader Once Again and the third was Mindreader in Deluge)This is weird and most awkward. He had, had physical affairs with the most voluptuous and beautiful girls on the goddamn planet. He had killed this girl's hot sister and he had tried almost like people try food, every variety of girl on this planet, then why, why was he unable to kill her. His usually perfectly coloured world, coloured sensibly coloured in the red shade of passion was a mess and a blurr with this girl. Her golden rays always messy never shining with the plethora of planning but giving a messy blurring to her life seemed to actually make him desire her wild spirit more but surprisingly this was not his rather usual urge to tame her and to make her obey his strong will but to mingle in the blue waters of her life, to let her be her own self the mountain spring while he would be the hart of the forest of her life. He never surprisingly wished her to change but suddenly wished to change his ownself, his inner soul to resonate her grey cerebrality and yet the presence of her green and blue simplicity. This time it wasn't those idiotic ex-Mossad bodyguards which were his problem but actually his own body and mind. He remembered the terrible headaches the worse fear and that blank forgetfullness that engulfed her sister and sympathetically reflected in his own body. He remembered the terrible terror of each that he had killed and that welcoming sense of forgetfullness. He was quite proud of his work and took an artist's pride in the kills he had accomplished and that invigorating sense of release and satisfaction. Each kill brought with it a sense of pain and ectasy only available otherwise in the art of Hierros Gammos.However suddenly he wished to forget all of this and just be the normal physics graduate from India he was pretending to be to capture the eye of Melissa and just be that be there for Melissa, be a part of the fabric of her life and have her as the brightest red fabric of his life. He did not manage to even think of killing her as he went for date after date with this simple girl right underneath the noses of her bossy set of four bodyguards. And yet he could not kill her for he was floating on the ectasy of love's light.
He condemned himself that Love would be his greatest fault and it would end on the planet his mortal lease. He tried to once again feel that thrill in his loins that came when he saw the target in the cross hairs of his MFGX2( A German Sniper rifle). He tried feel that ectasy of pain that he felt in his own body as his victim slowly wasted away at the hands of his slow flowing poisonous reprimands that he so brilliantly collected from the whole planet. However, the ectasy and love for the slow froth of death would just not come with the Golden joy of love that permeated his being with Melissa. He wished for nothing, not even her body, for he desired the greatest her sparkle of the Eternal Jewel, her vibrant, multi-hued soul to satisfy the dank blackness of his own soul. He chided himself that he had tried every flavour of woman on the planet, how then could this drab American attract his eye, but Love obeyed not his mind. It broke every adamantine barrier of logic or flattulently empty physical points of Questions he put forward for it and owned him. Love permeated and became his being and there was no escape for this poor fly.
He was trapped into the soul-quenching hunger of love that minded no logic nor any physical feeling or response but just struck when it felt like striking and compelled a slavish brute to be created from the independent human being that existed before its arrival. Mindreader had been squashed flat by love.
His customers however were not so free minded, they tired of the wait for the death of the second girl though there man was travelling with her for months so intimately that killing her would be as easy as breathing for him and they were irritated with his retience from killing the girl. They started pushing him to kill her and brought the condition to a point where he could no longer return without killing the girl the next day. He knew then that his hand was forced and it wouldn't be he that died if he refused but his only family members in the whole world. He would have to kill her, but he also knew that the prophecy was coming true. There would be a death the next day, he just wondered whose?
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Mindreader in Deluge
(THis is the 3rd part of an ongoing prose series on this blog. The first part was Mindreader and the second part was Mindreader Once Again)
His new assignment was simple. Kill an American Billionaire's two daughters and kidnap the youngest. He followed a simple rule of never asking his employers the need for the task, it kept him both alive and actually sane. This time his timeframe was of two months and a fat paycheck of three million. He was quite satiated with his life and quite eager to once again taste Death.
...................................................................................................
He landed the next day in the International Airport and for now he was Shameer Khardiff, a Spanish Soccer fan. As soon as he was processed and let out of the Airport, the first thing he did was to leave for Mr. John Doe's villa in the outskirts of the city. His week of recon brought in a whole lot of bad news for him. The body guards quite ably guarded their "principals" from any form of sniper or staccato gun-fire as well as stab instruments. Their were each ex-Mossad operatives and hence not only non-buyable but also suicidally tough and impossible to beat in hand to hand combat or close range armanent use. Poison was ruled out by too faithful servants and car accidents or bombs were nullified by a combination of able Bodyguards and suitably modern technology.
There was only one process left-the playboy. The only place the bodyguards did not venture was the girls' bedroom and that is where they would have to be killed. He had seen the two girls, the elder would be easy, she was the super model princess of the family. He would target her first but of the younger daughter he wasn't sure but then there always was risky sniper shots to take care of her. She was as sexless as a nun and wouldn't have aroused the most sexually famished creature on the planet, let alone him but the elder one, that one was going to be fun. Once the deaths are doled, he would then think of the kidnap. Accordingly he contacted his employers.
.............................................................................................................
A month later Miss Jean Doe the elder daughter of Mr. John Doe met Archduke Phillip of Austria on a tour of Italy. His Alfa Romeo and Ambassador suite in Caesar's Castle quite easily attracted her eyes but to this perhaps his smart look in Armani Suite have certain complementary effect. It was a quickly established scandal that they were seeing each other and that they were both residing in the same suite.
However Miss Jean Doe's premature death due to a weird cerebral stroke put an end to this happy love story. A forensic surgeon in mind of suggesting Concentrated Peroxyacyl Acetic acid which leaves but minor trace in the human body tragically died in a road accident pitiably also producing the mutilated body of Archduke Phillip in the other only recognised by his passport. Soon Rome had a new story of a curse as all those who had seen the happy couple a few months back died tragically in accidents and in a week all stories and traces of Archduke Phillip had vanished. The weeping royal family of Austria informed, the one with that name in the family was missing for two months and was presumed dead on a cliff climbing accident but the body had never being found. How he ended up in Rome was anybody's guess.
...................................................................................................................
A Chicago window was being used at that time the eyes of the voyeur fixed intently on Miss Jean Doe's younger sister, the Einstein of the family.
His new assignment was simple. Kill an American Billionaire's two daughters and kidnap the youngest. He followed a simple rule of never asking his employers the need for the task, it kept him both alive and actually sane. This time his timeframe was of two months and a fat paycheck of three million. He was quite satiated with his life and quite eager to once again taste Death.
...................................................................................................
He landed the next day in the International Airport and for now he was Shameer Khardiff, a Spanish Soccer fan. As soon as he was processed and let out of the Airport, the first thing he did was to leave for Mr. John Doe's villa in the outskirts of the city. His week of recon brought in a whole lot of bad news for him. The body guards quite ably guarded their "principals" from any form of sniper or staccato gun-fire as well as stab instruments. Their were each ex-Mossad operatives and hence not only non-buyable but also suicidally tough and impossible to beat in hand to hand combat or close range armanent use. Poison was ruled out by too faithful servants and car accidents or bombs were nullified by a combination of able Bodyguards and suitably modern technology.
There was only one process left-the playboy. The only place the bodyguards did not venture was the girls' bedroom and that is where they would have to be killed. He had seen the two girls, the elder would be easy, she was the super model princess of the family. He would target her first but of the younger daughter he wasn't sure but then there always was risky sniper shots to take care of her. She was as sexless as a nun and wouldn't have aroused the most sexually famished creature on the planet, let alone him but the elder one, that one was going to be fun. Once the deaths are doled, he would then think of the kidnap. Accordingly he contacted his employers.
.............................................................................................................
A month later Miss Jean Doe the elder daughter of Mr. John Doe met Archduke Phillip of Austria on a tour of Italy. His Alfa Romeo and Ambassador suite in Caesar's Castle quite easily attracted her eyes but to this perhaps his smart look in Armani Suite have certain complementary effect. It was a quickly established scandal that they were seeing each other and that they were both residing in the same suite.
However Miss Jean Doe's premature death due to a weird cerebral stroke put an end to this happy love story. A forensic surgeon in mind of suggesting Concentrated Peroxyacyl Acetic acid which leaves but minor trace in the human body tragically died in a road accident pitiably also producing the mutilated body of Archduke Phillip in the other only recognised by his passport. Soon Rome had a new story of a curse as all those who had seen the happy couple a few months back died tragically in accidents and in a week all stories and traces of Archduke Phillip had vanished. The weeping royal family of Austria informed, the one with that name in the family was missing for two months and was presumed dead on a cliff climbing accident but the body had never being found. How he ended up in Rome was anybody's guess.
...................................................................................................................
A Chicago window was being used at that time the eyes of the voyeur fixed intently on Miss Jean Doe's younger sister, the Einstein of the family.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Mindreader Once Again
Another succesful kill. Sometimes he stared at the heavens whether in the plains of the highland villas or the sands of the torrid deserts, sometimes in the plains of river alluvi or even in the winds of the coast, what was his success, what was the quantum in his life. Each victory in the pathetic excuse of his life would perfect that vaunted title he had taken, the best murderer in the planet and it would result in another job and another and another and another.................................................................................. that marred his soul in the eternal confusion called life. But did he want to kill again? But then again did he want to die? Did he want to lose all those pleasures he had gained his life? Did he want life? Did he know Life? What was Life? An Eternal ectasy and symphony of pain? Was he even alive?
The boy had grown into the perfect haunted man. The man for whom Death held no charm yet neither did life but yet he went about sensing the climax, the arousal of it every day and found the sweetness and the taste of both. The intoxicating charm of the sensual oblivion of Death the sensory overload and the cheer and sweetness of the beating heart of life itself.
The pain and hope seemed intoxicating to the boy as he rose metres above the humdrum of these greatest Necromantic drug of all and lived its ectasy and its honour and its pure pleasure. Such state of affairs pushed him to spend every penny of the vast fortunes of his bank account between every kill as he tasted life "to its lees" and prepared each waking hour hour to fight and yet welcome that inevitable oblivion that waited for him at the ever sinking horizon.
He didn't know defeat, especially not at the hand of a two bit bird. He had learned to fight on and on and on.
He had tasted every girl this world had to offer from voluptuous models to the aristrocrats to the poor lovers. He had tasted the olive and cherry of the west and the chocolate and honey of the east with the ebony of the equator. He had tried every Aphrodite, every Helen, every Laila, Sheba and Rambha and Menoka. He had sunk in Beauty and come out all the more stronger and kept strengthening his resolve. He felt he had acertained that Love was one thing he had flushed out in those intimate embraces and loving touches and he had felt the feminine heart as it pounded and surfeited to his feet not only the last droplets of its physical treasures but also those delicate strains of her heart in thrall to his embrace. And he had enjoyed grounding it feeling not a thing in his heart for he believed it dead and he lived only on the strength of his loins and muscular physique.
He felt that he had beaten the two bit bird and sang one day:
Let me not to fear for it scares of me
Let me not to Death surrendered be
Let this world not know for they are my thrall
Fate and Death have with my hand pushed to stall
Let Love not come near me
For my thrall for Eternity it is to be
I command Emotions this day
I come the new Messiah in even newer lay
For I am of Fate and this world, Lord
Bow to me, your new GOD
The exultation lasted always till the bank got dried and then came the task, the pain of poison, the pain of a bullet, knife, bomb, he had endured all and willed each time for the all cleansing clean Death to end all pain all strife, for Freedom but then again his mighty heart willed his punishment on, he wouldn't die, he couldn't die, he lived to die another day. Then came the pleasure of life, in food, music, parties, engrossing books, exotic vacations in the never ending vacation. The loving embrace of a simple rural belle or the welcoming bed of the aristocrat. Sometimes it was the exulatation of the killing and fighting of the Evil in Humanity but with it also came the pain to be suppressed with movies and Nature and Death Defying Sports. He was the violent enigma of pain and death.
....................................................................................................
Three months had passed and Spain had exhausted of Daughters and Rebels to satisfy the unquenchable thirst of Life. The Ardennes caged Life no longer in his rugged beauty and so with empty purse walked out Death to the Living World.
The boy had grown into the perfect haunted man. The man for whom Death held no charm yet neither did life but yet he went about sensing the climax, the arousal of it every day and found the sweetness and the taste of both. The intoxicating charm of the sensual oblivion of Death the sensory overload and the cheer and sweetness of the beating heart of life itself.
The pain and hope seemed intoxicating to the boy as he rose metres above the humdrum of these greatest Necromantic drug of all and lived its ectasy and its honour and its pure pleasure. Such state of affairs pushed him to spend every penny of the vast fortunes of his bank account between every kill as he tasted life "to its lees" and prepared each waking hour hour to fight and yet welcome that inevitable oblivion that waited for him at the ever sinking horizon.
He didn't know defeat, especially not at the hand of a two bit bird. He had learned to fight on and on and on.
He had tasted every girl this world had to offer from voluptuous models to the aristrocrats to the poor lovers. He had tasted the olive and cherry of the west and the chocolate and honey of the east with the ebony of the equator. He had tried every Aphrodite, every Helen, every Laila, Sheba and Rambha and Menoka. He had sunk in Beauty and come out all the more stronger and kept strengthening his resolve. He felt he had acertained that Love was one thing he had flushed out in those intimate embraces and loving touches and he had felt the feminine heart as it pounded and surfeited to his feet not only the last droplets of its physical treasures but also those delicate strains of her heart in thrall to his embrace. And he had enjoyed grounding it feeling not a thing in his heart for he believed it dead and he lived only on the strength of his loins and muscular physique.
He felt that he had beaten the two bit bird and sang one day:
Let me not to fear for it scares of me
Let me not to Death surrendered be
Let this world not know for they are my thrall
Fate and Death have with my hand pushed to stall
Let Love not come near me
For my thrall for Eternity it is to be
I command Emotions this day
I come the new Messiah in even newer lay
For I am of Fate and this world, Lord
Bow to me, your new GOD
The exultation lasted always till the bank got dried and then came the task, the pain of poison, the pain of a bullet, knife, bomb, he had endured all and willed each time for the all cleansing clean Death to end all pain all strife, for Freedom but then again his mighty heart willed his punishment on, he wouldn't die, he couldn't die, he lived to die another day. Then came the pleasure of life, in food, music, parties, engrossing books, exotic vacations in the never ending vacation. The loving embrace of a simple rural belle or the welcoming bed of the aristocrat. Sometimes it was the exulatation of the killing and fighting of the Evil in Humanity but with it also came the pain to be suppressed with movies and Nature and Death Defying Sports. He was the violent enigma of pain and death.
....................................................................................................
Three months had passed and Spain had exhausted of Daughters and Rebels to satisfy the unquenchable thirst of Life. The Ardennes caged Life no longer in his rugged beauty and so with empty purse walked out Death to the Living World.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Mindreader
( An Episodic narration of a prosaic story which is yet a poem)
The boy stared hard at the two bit red bird. It was so easy to kill, a single sling shot that was all it took to snuff off the livid flame. With practiced ease he eased into the shooting position, it must be remembered that whether in bow or sling the main stress was to feel and see the target with sensitive eyes and to hear the very heart beat of the victim even from a distance of upto a mile and not stare at the dart or the stone. Once the victim's body and mind were yours, all you had to do was ease the twang at the dart, not to push the dart or to stare at the dart, your target would be achieved. The boy had imprisoned the bird's mind and soul. Now only to release, then with practised ease the string was given its much desperately sought freedom. There is a unique majesty in the flying shot........................... The flowing air seeking to debunk it and it mysteriously cutting its own path in the parabolic saga of beauty and ultimate truth revelling in its own strength and its pride. The spattering speed taking it like an immortal God in the very splash and explosion of mortal incardine staggering gouts.
The bird fell dead and the smiling boy went up to it to claim his trophy when he saw the still beating pump opened to the view of the world. He smiled and sat beside his dying victim revelling in the despair and steep accusation of those faltering eyes boring into those of its victor questioning the need. Why should it die? It had harmed none, it was but the most beautiful creation of Mother Nature, Oh, then why, why should it die? It served no purpose to the boy as food nor as garment or respect. Then why was it removed so futilely for nothing but boyish sport? Why couldn't its life had served a purpose? Why this futile death?
But the questions found mute gloating stare that only revelled in success of its sport. The flame in heat of rage before subsiding to ash.
However when the Gloating boy went to lift his prize there was the squeak all around him but it bespoke a human tongue. Its message chilled the spine of the fleeing boy who never returned to lift his prize from the decomposing earth as flesh and earth bound as one as energy and soul and the proud red plume sunk in the ground to the bone dry skeleton that passed into dust. Thus was beauty destroyed but it was rage that said:
Mortal whelp of the nether sands
To you are barred joy's lands
You will do but what you love
That is help people to snuff
You will kill and kill each day but you will relieve your victims
You will like oil that over slip always skims
Relieve and die with those you hunt
You will feel death but you dead will shunt
You will read their minds and their hearts
You will be crushed like apple tarts
Yet you will live till that day is reached
When from hatred is leached
By a woman you will love to fault
But from killing her you will be unable to halt
The death will release you from your bond and fate
For you will see me again on that date
When the day comes kill me again quick
For then together in this mortal realm we will never again stick
*******************************
The man's heart had come in the the in the intersecting lines that some call cross-hairs. Which would be faster, the heart or the femoral artery or the carotid artery or lobular venacava and the cranial explosion. He would have to die fast as he would savour the same pain as his victim. He better die quick as these days the experience was getting nigh unbearable. With resigned he wished for something like a zillionth time that he would not have to do this to live but what can he do? He was the best sniper in the country and thus automatically the best Hitman for the job. He chose the cranial cavity and then stepped into the mind of the victim, soon he was walking his gait, thinking his thoughts and the jailer of the gaol for the man's heart and soul, the trigger got pressed almost by itself. He quickly stashed his thick wad of cotton in his jaw trapping the tongue, teeth and his face.
Even the speeding beauty of the bullet was thing to watch as it immersed itself a mile away in between the eyes of the victim, where the mortal sweetness of satisfying warmth outpoured as perfume. Then his body, which he had already put in lying position hit the first spasm followed by those terrible 1 minute 15 seconds of cold chill and heartbreaking fear of the void and the wild spasms and laboured breathing, till the final absolution.
Shit! He had misjudged the wind, the bullet had torn apart his lower right brain and the hypothalamus but not the neurospasmic control section of the heart. That terrible fear, he hated his life,simply hated it but he would have to live some way or other. Nobody defeats him especially not a two bit bird.
(To Be Continued)
Monday, August 10, 2009
Flights of Fantasy
Today I am Chengiz as I stare over the Mongol Waste
No I am Timur with my army riding in haste
To the next conquer, to the next plunder
To make waste of others blunder
Yet I am wrong
Today I am Don Juan which I have been for long
I am again the master of Amourous Tales
Again I depend on my luck which never fails
My hunt for that true love, I long continue
My love for Heidis and Julias,I always rue
Yet I feel I am the daring Achilles
In search of Immortality, I kill Hector the flawless
I am again Parris
But then who doesn't want to step in shoes his
The gift of Helen, He was lucky but fool
He should have also learned to use war's tool
Then again I am the hapless Romeo of Lay
Who died for one girl but could have had a thousand any day
I won't be that fool for anymore, I am rather Zeus himself
Who else has in the bedroom of more women delved
Who cares, I am the valiant Ghatothkach son of Bhim
A Death worth having was received by him
Today I am Samudra Gupta, the Great
The Emperor before whom all foreigners did fret
The great warrior,who unified India of old
I only wish that I was that bold
I am a warrior in search of fame
I pass blood drenched fields of limbs and body with no name
I am a lover with a crooked smile
Girls fathers lock them seeing him coming from afar even a mile
I am the most famous of actors today and I am the best chef of fame
I am a Gentleman, Girls swoon hearing his name
Then I get a cold drenching spray
I realise I am awake and ready to face life's fray
One of the poor old sods whom no one knows
One who one day ends his existence and from Earth quitely goes
No one monument, no remembrance, nothing he gets
He is remembered by those for a day, whom he begets
A man has but one life but his history remains
He is just one fool from whom fame abstains
No I am Timur with my army riding in haste
To the next conquer, to the next plunder
To make waste of others blunder
Yet I am wrong
Today I am Don Juan which I have been for long
I am again the master of Amourous Tales
Again I depend on my luck which never fails
My hunt for that true love, I long continue
My love for Heidis and Julias,I always rue
Yet I feel I am the daring Achilles
In search of Immortality, I kill Hector the flawless
I am again Parris
But then who doesn't want to step in shoes his
The gift of Helen, He was lucky but fool
He should have also learned to use war's tool
Then again I am the hapless Romeo of Lay
Who died for one girl but could have had a thousand any day
I won't be that fool for anymore, I am rather Zeus himself
Who else has in the bedroom of more women delved
Who cares, I am the valiant Ghatothkach son of Bhim
A Death worth having was received by him
Today I am Samudra Gupta, the Great
The Emperor before whom all foreigners did fret
The great warrior,who unified India of old
I only wish that I was that bold
I am a warrior in search of fame
I pass blood drenched fields of limbs and body with no name
I am a lover with a crooked smile
Girls fathers lock them seeing him coming from afar even a mile
I am the most famous of actors today and I am the best chef of fame
I am a Gentleman, Girls swoon hearing his name
Then I get a cold drenching spray
I realise I am awake and ready to face life's fray
One of the poor old sods whom no one knows
One who one day ends his existence and from Earth quitely goes
No one monument, no remembrance, nothing he gets
He is remembered by those for a day, whom he begets
A man has but one life but his history remains
He is just one fool from whom fame abstains
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