Rulebook

People skimmed through it midway
some barely turned a page, I've heard
everyone closed the book shut
way before it reached the last word

The last rule was quite unique
it wasn't affordable to bend
it said "Just another ending,
doesn't imply 'the end' "

It's a pity no one read the last rule
for if they knew how it was true
they would know there's more
to an 'apparent' ending too...

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Cent-imental & Grateful!

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Clara Winslow's Favourite Song

'Clara Winslow wins song of the year at Grammy Awards 2025', read the headline. She made it , I thought to myself before letting the overwhelming flood of memories take over. I was interning at a music summer camp when I first met Clara Winslow, a frail girl with freckled cheeks, long bronze hair and eyes so expressive they almost appeared animated. When I assigned the kids their first activity of the summer, I vividly recall how Clara's eyes lit up. 'Listen to music across various genres, cultures, languages and pick your favourite song' , read the chalkboard behind me. It was quite a task to get the rest of the class started. Clara however, was a natural. I don't think she spent a minute without her headphones and notepad. That was the only time I interacted with the kids and although most were adorable, Clara Winslow left an impression instantly. Later that day and for every day since, I was assigned generic prep work so I barely saw the kids....

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Paul Hugo

(Image source: Wix Image Creator)

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The Ominous Letter

I listen to what you say when you believe you’re alone. I know what you would rather do if you knew nobody was watching . I can feel you tense at my words. I can hear your breathing pattern cautiously pause. When your grandmother said “Mind what you let occupy your mind”, where were you? She may not have known the core reason behind what she preached, but she was right in thinking it was essential to protect you. She had every reason to be concerned. It is one of the greatest mysteries of the human race how nobody discovered that thoughts are logged. There are arrays of them incrementally pouring in as you read this. I have unhindered access to each thought of yours, as much as I would like otherwise. Some of the thoughts are periodically repeated. As a bunch, they collectively move forward to take the form of an action. I sit there in pain at the very onset of your first immoral thought, praying it never finds its bunch. My job is to send back uninv...