Tomic Riter

Tag: shortstory

  • I returned before my time.

    There is an effort to compress time. Every man is under pressure, ready to burst on something. Nothing will be revealed except morals and puss.  Steam leaves a vessel inside an unknown room. Really, what is the use of a broomstick here, or of these night bulbs. Somewhere, an orphan cat is roaring. Going out of control scares me a little. Between me and Death, not much distance is left now. I am thinking about you as I comb my beard. The sun hasn’t shone since a week. All the roads are slowly disintegrating. There is always a problem that can kill a good sleep. If I open this window, is there anything to watch? The possibility of it alone can deliver a permanent shock to me. Impossible is not a limit. Some things exist beyond that, and I sometimes wonder what they might be. The idea is quite enticing. Walking down three flights of stairs could have been a holy act. But what if it is done everyday? What about simply opening a door? Or forgetting to wash your face or brush your teeth?

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Last night.

    Last night, I dreamed and that’s all I can remember now. I remember more than that but I cannot say if any of it is true. Alcohol seeped into my unconscious, awakened the subtle fears. I am not free but I know the path to freedom. Owing to laziness and unnecessary sleep, I lack the will to pursue that path. Buying alcohol gives more satisfaction than buying food, despite the idea being foolish. Another day of riding miles on empty roads that cut across the green swampy fields. I ride back and forth to memorise a landscape. Too far seems scary. Before I reach too far, I always run out of time and sunshine.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Riding on a wet road.

    It won’t be wise to ignore the obvious signs of danger. I am not as far from my destination as I think I am. Night awakens the noises that sleep throughout the day. Still, a night is better than a day. And the problem lies there, in my likeness for the night. Inebriated, I feel quite alert and brave. I can be a drunk orator. Even a drunk monk. Riding few miles on a dry road isn’t the same as riding the same few miles on a road clogged with rainwater. Dry road feels better and while riding if I die then the satisfaction will be far more than when I die on a wet road.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Fluctuations.

    this brightness is too bright, it kills inspiration and everything else

    I wait for it to diminish and once that happens, I can stop waiting for it to diminish

    and do something else

    right now, each point is on fire that connects to every other point behind these cracked walls

    I touch each point with certain fear

    the game is no less fun but for how long can this game keep running

    heavy rains have washed all the roads

    all the clouds have emptied on our roofs and in our balconies

    a natural excrement and I returned home all wet.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Alive before dead.

    Two hours later, my legs began to freeze. It wasn’t winter. The winds were blowing against me. And I was riding too fast. I opened my coffin and prepared to lie down in it. As I sat in it, I thought about the next day and how the sun won’t exist anymore. The winds had paralysed my eyes. Had I to see a thing, I would have to wait for another life. That seemed far and quite uncertain. Living again through all this was unfavorable. In the short time between lying down in my coffin and falling dead, I wanted to find my freedom, never to be back alive once again.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Leave now than later.

    for a minute standing here is alright

    in the mild torment of rainy winds

    they carry only coldness to my skin

    they feel alright for a minute

    thereafter, my bones start failing to comply

    an urge to run there, to that lone bulb glowing

    and stand underneath it and just that

    this home will be left behind me

    for a little while

    I will be looking at it from there

    leave now than later.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter 2020 . All rights reserved.

  • A personal inquiry into reading.

    A million books out there to read, but when you want to decide to pick one of them and read, it becomes a herculean task. Browsed a hundred books but not a single is found appealing, even remotely interesting. They all are talking about social issues or environmental issues or some historical event of one or another kind, and if not that then self help books are always there to fuel one’s illusions of what is what. Everyday, so much crap is being published. Lines and lines of bullshit written under the influence of some emotional or psychological delusion. Truth is unbreakable but look at how frail, blood-devoid it sounds when read in the lines of these books. It is a sad demise of something that should never die. Of course nothing is immortal, even long-lasting but for as long as a man lives and breathes and is capable of being aware, a few good and simple lines must be there, waiting for him to discover them.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter 2020 . All rights reserved.

  • Further, up and down.

    Another mile was covered. And then another. Not a quarter in my pocket but I had to ride on. A week’s journey and I hadn’t reached anywhere. The wild landscape was playing tricks on me. I had become weak and I was falling but I kept on as the land rose and fell and as the sun came up and went down. Now and then, a tree or two appeared and that was all. No days had been as drier as those and even for a drop of water, you had to pray really, really hard. But prayed as hard as I might have, no god ever showed its face or washed my head clean with some of its divine light. I was all alone. People said beasts had made a home there. Even they seemed to have moved on. Not as much as a claw was seen in any grain of sand or mud. I was weak and all grown down but my black steed looked as strong and bright as any ray of sunlight. He was made for such journeys. A creature like that, you cannot lock it up for long. Someday it has got to be set free and when that day comes, let its hooves not stop until it wants to stop or until it leaps off this damned horizon.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter 2020. All rights reserved.

  • In eternal slumber.

    How to work with a man who cannot handle anything. That’s the puzzle. How to make him realize that future is not the place to live in, that it is never coming. He thinks that there is no problem with him. He wants to be in a different situation that in what he is right now.That is true in any moment. Is that even possible,? Being in a different situation right now? And if yes, then why doesn’t he make it happen.His ego is that o a king but his spirit is that of a timid thief. He is living with this conflict inside his head.How will peace come to him. As days pass, he is morphing into a nagging crab. A stupid, senseless, good-for-nothing piece of life. It is a matter of concern but he does not know that. He will live another 10 years or so, but I doubt anything is ever going to change him from within for good.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter 2020. All rights reserved.

  • Travelling West.

    Cattle-ranching was a thing of those days along with four or five more elements, and the topography was such that it pushed any man to the edge. He had to be as strong as he could be and if that did not happen then he was soon eliminated by fate or by the bullet of some devil’s gun or whip and which was it, it didn’t matter much. From my own experience, not much is known to me. I am travelling to a certain land, that simmers in the same harsh conditions, through a path that I am yet to find out. And I am alone in my travel, and hence, quite curious. As alcohol begins to rot my lungs, I am slowly getting transported there. There I am, riding on something tall, a black steed and the moon is full and hot and raining on everything. To my left is one tree and and to my right are none and as to how far they really are from me, I cannot tell. I am not to travel in that direction. Sitting under a tree won’t do my soul any good. This is no time to rest. I thought the land would be a lot smoother, but as I look ahead I can see it rising and falling quite often. Good for my horse. If I crash into the mud, it will take some time to get me up. And while I am trying to get me up, what will my horse do is quite a mystery to me.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter 2020. All rights reserved.