The Dare -A glimpse at the supernatural

He lay haunted by the shapes that lurked in the dark, calling him over to the other side. The shadows marched a cadence around him, cackling at his fear. He receded farther and farther in his closet embracing the skeletons that shared his fears, till he could take it no longer. He reached for the revolver in the silver box – the one handed down to him by his father who died in the war. Placing it at his temples, he held in a breath as he pulled the trigger.


Marian wiped a tear from her cheek as she stood over a dark coffin that was being lowered into the ground. She took a handful of the mud and spread it over the casket – her other hand tightly gripping tulips that she knew he loved. She dropped them and turned away – shoulders shuddering with sorrow. Someone placed an arm around her and led her away.


Marian had gone to the basement two weeks ago, but never came up again . The lawn was overgrown, the chipped paint began to fall and the mail collected in the abandoned mailbox. The familiar mailman, out of curiosity, walks up the door and gives it a good rap.
“Marian?? Anyone home??”
He lodges a missing persons complaint with the police.


Detective Arthur Mead looks at the weakened wooden door.
“Piece of cake” he grimaces at the constable by his side.
“On three…” he whispered. “1… 2…”
And with a mighty shove, he brought down the door.

Marian was rolled up in a fetal position, hidden in a dark corner behind a closet. Detective Arthur steps in and reaches out a reassuring hand toward her.
“Don’t…” a voice straggles out.
Constable Harris flashes a light at her face and is shocked to see the red capillaries pulsing across her eyes. She puts up a hand defensively and the Detective looks at the heavy closet.


Chalked tallies marked up to 14 lined the sides of the dark closet. Shining the light around the room, Harris notices the various scraggly drawings of some creature with glasses.

“Apparently, this thing – whatever it is – has been haunting her, and I’d say for 14 days judging by those tallies.” The detective stooped over broken pieces of chalk that lined the ground, as Constable Harris shone a light for him. A sudden movement catches Arthur’s attention and he flipped his head toward Marian.


Marian arched over them, revolver in hand. The Detective’s sharp eyes notice that it was the same Colt army revolver that was also used by the man who had shot himself two weeks ago. But this was no time for detections or associations. Marian had the revolver propped boldly against the Constable’s forehead.

“Don’t do it, Marian. You know you’re better than that,” said the Detective in a calm voice. Marian merely shook her head and looked down.

When she looked up again, she wore a smug grin. She looked directly into the Detective’s eyes and as quick as ever, pulled the trigger – over her own temple.


Blood and gore splashed across the pale cream wall. The forensics looked at the revolting sight with disgust.
“This isn’t a soap opera. Get to cleaning,” boomed the voice of the detective.
23 year old Adrien swallowed the wave of nausea that struck him. This was his first major assignment and the bloody gore triggered a nauseating wave of repulse that he never faced in five years of lab examinations. He looked away from the gory scene and his eyes picked out a thick book embedded in the junk that flowed around the closet.


“June 24 – Elliot seemed really disturbed at work today. I tried to talk to him but he just pushed me away. I wonder what’s on his mind? I should probably pay him a visit.

“June 26 – I stopped over at Elliot’s and I’m really worried for him. I heard a lot of crashing and banging. Should I go to the police?? But what if…? I don’t know. Maybe I should just give him some time.

“July 1- I can’t take it in. How could Elliot do this to himself??? If only I would have informed the cops that day! If only I could have been there for him. I’ll never forgive myself!

“July 3 – I was silly to be afraid. Elliot visits me everyday. He’s closer to me now than he has ever been. He taunts me constantly but he dotes over me. He doesn’t want me to leave the basement. I’m satisfied here. I’ll stay for as long as he wants me here.

“July 4 – Elliot asked me to light a candle and he would speak over it. I did, and he told me that his father’s spirit had been visiting him very often. His father had died in the war but his spirit wouldn’t rest after the violence and chaos he had seen. Elliot says that his father’s spirit violently roams his mansion seeking to avenge the young blood that soiled his country’s battlegrounds. Elliot’s speech was too abstract for me to understand but I do feel that spirit of violence around me, knocking around the books on the shelves.”

Adrien looked up from reading the diary. No one was in the room. The muffled conversation of the Inspector with the Detective sounded, from outside the basement door. Adrien was uneasy being alone with the corpse of the poor woman. A shiver ran down his spine and he took a step over the body towards the door when he stumbled over apparent nothingness and was tossed to the ground. His head struck the edge of the closet and he lay for a moment on the floor waiting for the delirium to pass. It felt like all the objects on the shelves swam over his head.

He blinked twice but the objects wouldn’t move away. He suddenly felt the cold steel of the silver revolver over his temple. He tried to speak but choked. He felt paralyzed. Unable to move his hands, he tried to turn his head from side to side. A powerful force locked his jaw, and he heard the rattling of the cans in the distance. Suddenly, the trigger pulled.


20 tips for live coverage of events

The Buttry Diary

Continuing my series on live coverage as one of the most important steps in unbolting from the processes and culture of a print newsroom, here are 20 tips on live coverage:

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10 Things You Probably Didn’t Know About Walt Disney


There may be no entertainment industry figure more influential than Disney’s eponymous founder. In his 65 years, Walt Disney succeeded in moving animation from a black-and-white novelty to a highly respected genre that would produce Oscar-worrthy feature films. More than a few of his creations — including Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, and Goofy — are instantly recognizable global icons. And the small animation house he founded on October 16, 1923 is now valued at more than $42 billion.

Yet, despite his fame, Disney remains a relatively unknown figure. His story is overshadowed by his achievements, and, sometimes, by outright myth.  In honor of The Walt Disney Company’s 90th anniversary, here are ten things you probably didn’t know about the man behind Mickey Mouse.

1. He dropped out of high school to join the army

During the first World War, a 16-year-old Walt Disney left school and attempted to enlist in…

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amritha zachariah

Where has our freedom gone? Is our freedom seriously under threat? Next time, when one thinks of talking or acting or even thinking about something , should they think about being taken to task or by being shot by Terrorists? Are they actually controlling what has to be said and done? What is happening?

Several examples can be laid that supports the above talked. For example the shooting of Malala Yousafzi ( at the age of 15) for raising her voice or rather fighting for her due rights of basic education, then can be the 2014 Peshawar killings where 140 innocent school kids were shot at a point blank range in their school building itself for pursuing education and also as a revenge of the Talibans against the Army officers as according to the Taliban, they wanted the Army people to feel the pain when their dear ones are massacred…

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Here We Go Again…


India is in the throes of what Salman Rushdie rightly calls a “cultural emergency.” Writers and artists of all kinds are being harassed, sued and arrested for what they say or write or create. The government either stands by and does nothing to protect freedom of speech, or it actively abets its suppression.

In recent years, the government has cast a watchful eye on the Internet, demanding that companies like Google and Facebook and remove items that might be deemed “disparaging” or “inflammatory,” according to technology industry executives there.

Freedom of expression needs to be promoted with legitimate limitations and in balance with other digital rights within an expanded legal and regulatory framework. There are challenges to deal with liability of intermediaries and governmental surveillance which might undermine freedom of expression.

The ubiquity of the technology goes hand-in-hand with the ubiquity of social media. But with rights come responsibilities. Unchecked, social…

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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Arthur Phillips

The Tragedy of Arthur >> Arthur Phillips

Arthur’s talented (and unreliable) father is a con artist. He gifts Arthur and his twin an undiscovered play written by Shakespeare, which he wants published by Random House. Apart from the gripping lives of the two Arthurs – the novelist and the king – there also is a literary treat: Arthur Phillips has written a ‘new’ Shakespearean play, that Shakespeare experts have claimed as being amazingly similar to Shakespeare’s works. This faux play is appended to the end of the novel and is worth the read in every way.

Calvin and Hobbes…!

I Love Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes, it’s amazing the way you can actually relate to him (being  a kid). Like I always say, “Reality continues to ruin my Life”. Now, that’s Calvin’s quote. But, wow anyone who loves Dreamland better than reality, loves Calvin too. Although his Anthropomorphic tiger, Hobbes, is the smarter one, it’s all part of Calvin’s wild imagination (just like mine!).

I love this thought by Calvin the best:

“I let my mind wander and it didn’t come back.”
Want more Calvin & Hobbes quotes? Click here. (Opens in a new tab)
I love wild imagination and Calvin is a great inspiration…

Happy Reading!

Interested in good books? Try these out:

A Palace in the Old Village : Tahar Ben Jelloun :

A celebrated novelist from Morocco, based in Paris, Tahar writes the tale about immigration between Morocco and France. After 40 years in France, Mohammed retires to Morocco and spends all of his money in building a “palace” in the village so that his family might come to live with him.

Mistaken: Neil Jordan:

The story is about identity, death and growing up with a doppelganger in Dublin. The problem with Mistaken is a doom-laden cloud of insinuation that hovers over the story and saps its vitality. Kevin Thunder lives next door to Bram Stoker’s house, and is haunted by Gerry Spain looking exactly like him only with a more privileged upbringing.

The Lake of Dreams: Kim Edwards :

Well-known for her The Memory Keeper’s Daughter, Kim’s new novel is about a woman’s homecoming. Lucy Jarrett returns home from Japan and is haunted by her father’s death and apparently useless curiosities that may offer seeked-for answers.

More to come…

Have a great day 🙂

Too caught up with Twitterature…

If you’ve read my last blog post, here’s the continuation >> I’m so caught up with Twitterature, that here are more examples… 😛

Take Shakespeare’s Macbeth, whose soliloquies were so often committed to memory and listen to how he describes his own end: “Shit. ‘C-Section’ is not ‘of woman born’? What kind of King dies on a goddamn technicality?” And there is Hamlet : “Gonna try to talk some sense into Mom because boyfriend completely killed Dad. I sense this is the moment of truth, the moment of candor and – ”

King Lear cogitates: “What, my ungrateful girls are kicking me out? I’ll be cold and homeless. This sucketh.” Now, there’s a laugh!!

The Russian greats: Gogol in his Overcoat exclaims “OMG, my coat is gone. Everything is ruined. </3” (Where OMG stands for Oh My God and </3 stands for a broken heart in twitter lingo)  and the ending goes a little something like this: “I suppose I have what I want now, it’s time to rest. If anyone sees my coat, tweet it.”

Totally unexpected, huh? Check this out:

Anna Karenina, after her suicide ends: “This user’s account has been deactivated.”

Frankenstein: “This killing thing is getting way out of control. You know like a mistress you can’t shut up?”

Mrs. Dalloway : “Ah! A party tonight! Should be a fine time – fun, friends, nothing stressful, nothing awkward. Should be a blast!”

Conrad’s Heart of Darkness: “Keep hearing about this ‘unorthodox’ Kurtz guy. Sounds interesting. Probably never overtweets about trivialities. My kind of man.”

John Milton’s Paradise Lost: “OH MY GOD I’M IN HELL”.

Hope you enjoyed this. Try out the original book, lots of fun.

Have a nice day. 🙂

Twitterature?! What next?…

Wondering how classical Literature would work in the form of tweets? Well, wonder no more, Twitterature is here!

Shakespeare, Homer, Kafka, Hemingway, Woolf, Pushkin, (you name it) – too difficult to understand? try reading it, Twitterature style!

Twitterature (a combination of Twitter and Literature), is written by 2 students at the university of Chicago. Alexander Aciman and Emmett Rensin recreate classical Literature in the social networking arena using tweets. Tweets allow < 140 characters, making them “short and sweet”.

You know that Cliff’s notes are often confronted when students have a lot to read, well, according to the site, it’s hailed as the ” hipster’s Cliff’s Notes of Cliff’s Notes, a Bathroom reader for short stays, and a coffee table that still leaves room to serve coffee.”

What does it sound like? Take an example, The Great Gatsby, often voted the best novel of the last century, reduced to 16 twitter posts, each well within the 140 character limit, counting spaces…! (Example) In the fourth tweet, Nick, the elegant, understated, sensitive narrator has this to say: “Some dude is standing on the bay with his arms up looking at a symbolic light.  What a CREEP!” And somewhere towards the book’s poignant end, he continues: “Gatsby is so emo. Who cries about his girlfriend while eating breakfast … IN THE POOL?”

Have a great time reading Twitterature, enjoy Classics in the form of Tweets!

Have a great day! 🙂

Amazing Words

Words are amazing ways of expressions. Just think of all the ways words can speak when the tongue can’t! Words are yet another wonderful creation by God, so effective in communication, and feelings…

Imagine Literature and art without words! Imagine this world without words, the basis of  all Science, Philosophy, and art…

Sounds too poetic? But that’s just it! Imagine the absence of words or letters, for that matter, in the times of Einstein, Hitler or even Jesus! What helped Plato, Confucius or Avicenna, the famous philosophers? What inspired Dickens, Shakespeare, Ernest Hemingway or any of those famous writers?

Coming to a more contemporary note – lyrics – inspiring? what makes it so? Words, my friend…

I’m so caught up with the vastness and splendor of words in the form of literature that I’m here to encourage anyone to read as much literature as you possibly can..

According to a close friend of mine, ” A good book is something that’s going to be with you forever, even in your ups and downs. When all seems hopeless, when there’s no one who can help you and you’re desperate, Literature is always there, and is something you can always turn to for guidance, no matter what.”

Ending with a famous quote: “Books are like good friends, you can never have too many!!” 🙂

Have a great day!