Assorted Tales

These are a collection of Micro-Fiction

Come my way

Come my way is a Malayalam idiom for agreeing to another’s opinion.

I usually practice coming my ways.

The Mistake

When my dear uncle reverent died, he left a provident fund of about three thousand dollars. The money was invested by my father in a private financial institution. Many told him not to do so and so as ill-luck happening, the financial company went bankrupt and the money put in it went to a waste. Now I wonder what if I had 3000$, yes, it’s a large sum of money for me. All that money has gone down in the drain.

The Debit Cards

I carry many debit cards in my purse but they are all penniless as I have no money in the bank. I appeal to lady luck to fill my purse and bank accounts with money.

The Curse

I have been having no luck with windfalls and I ask God Jehovah Jesus to remove all the curses put by Satan that prevents me from winning lotteries.

The Hymns

I love all the good old hymns like Amazing Grace, the Rugged Cross, showers of blessing, and what a friend we have in Jesus. Many years back, listening to them in the memory lane, I listened to them causally without paying much heed to thought. Now in this journey of life, these hymns become heavenly messages encouraging me to go on with life amidst trials and temptations.  

Dialogues of the Soul

I confront the abyss in the soul. The soul is sinful, wretched and naked in shame. It shivers in the angst of damnation. It floats in empty promises. It is covered with the effluence of spittle. It is a malicious demon that oppresses me. I try to still my thoughts but memories of conversations envelop me. I become a mirage of thought. My soul is an emptiness of apathy. My soul is brutal and cold. It violates the bravery of my existence. I am in shambles because of it. Nausea penetrates deep into the core of its existence. My soul is a mournful dark chamber. It is a dark canopy of fearsome existence. It is a Kafkaesque portrait. It does violence to the self. It is bound in chains of malignancy. It is humiliated by life’s journeying paths. I feel like getting rid of my soul. I feel the soul robbing my destiny. Yes, Sartre has said: ‘man is condemned to be free’, yes, he is right, I have my freedom in condemnation.