Sunday, December 27, 2009

Funny Story: The Moment of Happiness

200Posts He glanced at the ink pen sitting on the writing table, with immense pride he picked it up. Vyomkesh was happy today, he quickly glanced at the table calendar, the red mark on the date 1st Jan 2010 made him smirk. Finally the day was here.
Finally the nine years of torment were over, his dear daughter turned 18 and the last of the palimony cheque.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Short Story: Parting ways

Funny thing, I just realized I never wrote a funny short story, which was quite surprising as Story is what I like writing and humor is what I do best (atleast I think so), but for some reason I do not write a short story with a fun thing and I wanted to know why, I realized writing humorous stories is a challenge that even I cannot take. Well, below is not some of my best work, I tried to stay focused but apparently couldn’t. No characters in this story are real, any resemblances to real characters is coincidental, I just put some Blogger friends names so I might get inspired but well… you tell me how it is.
Sreya was driving all the way to her friends house. As always Shruti was in trouble.
‘He has left again, Sreya,’ said Shruti between sob, ‘it was so obvious since beginning, he as just messing around. Its over girl, its over. I have nothing else to do now.’

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Short Story: Serial Killer

Caution: The following story is not meant for weak and timid mind. Readers discretion advised. If you get disturbed on reading the story, please stop reading immediately.
The day was nearly ending and I sat in the staff room closing my books for the day. Prof. Despande and Prof. Shantaram sat opposite to me discussing the latest evening news hitting the town.

‘Four victims in past two months, Mrs. Despande,’ said Prof. Shantaram.

‘I know, all girls. The serial killer is out there killing girls, we need to be careful,’ said Prof. Mrs. Despande, ‘I have asked my husband to pick our daughter from class and then me. No one leaves house alone.’
Prof. Shantaram exclaimed, ‘Tsk Tsk Tsk, the papers are saying that police has told every girl to stay indoors on a full moon night. The person seems to be killing the victims on a full moon night only.’

‘Should be one of your subjects, Prof. Pandhari,’ said Prof. Shantaram looking at me. Obviously it was a physiological case, which was my subject at the university.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Short Story: Incomplete Desire

Disclaimer: Readers please be wary, the story written below has textual description of violence. Not at all suitable for weak minds, pregnant woman and heart patient. If you choose to read it, please be sure you do it on your own risk.

As I walked outside the clinic a cold and stark fear gripped me. A chill went down my spine. The positive reports in my hand showed a disaster. I did not want a baby, not now, not like this.

All my life I had the incomplete desire. I had to fulfill it before the baby. How could this happen? Of course he was trying for a long time and I knew it would be sooner or later. But now, that this is happening, am I ready for this?

The key in the ignition is now telling me something, yes, this has to be done. Shall I drive to my mothers? I am not sure, maybe I have to.
I don't have anyone accept her in this world now. I think I should go there. What will my husband think, when I don't return in the evening?

What will be my answer to him?

Oh well, those are future problems, I am stuck now, in this moment. I have to go there. Maybe papa will help me out, like he does since childhood.

Yes, papa is the answer.

As I drive towards the home again, old rusted memories come back to me. It was five years ago that I had crossed this road, that time it was in a state transport bus.
I had ran away from the house when I was eighteen, the moment I got chance, I ran away from the hell my parents like to call home.
The old house stands still, filled with ghost memories of the past. As I drive inside the compound a spine chilling cold wave hits me.
What am I doing here? Why did I return? I had vowed never to return back, I broke my vow.
I see my mother still in the kitchen, as silent as the past. She had learned to adjust, to adjust to the things happening in the house.
I really pity her. She looks at me with the sad eyes and the age old burden of years on her shoulders.
'You came,' she said sadly, 'I am so sorry I could never protect you, my baby.'
I say nothing. Just smile, don't worry mama, I will protect you.
As if she telepathically heard my words, 'You father is in the workshop.' she says.
The workshop. The dreaded room of my childhood, the room of stolen dreams, of empty souls, the room with incomplete desires. The feeling of guilt that haunted me for so many years rises again in my throat.

It is actually funny, it should end there for it also began there. It began the day I turned five and it continued until I turned eighteen.
The old wooden door creaked open as I stepped in. He was in there stark naked with another woman on the bed.

'My baby, you are back,' he smiles shamelessly.

'You know papa,' I smile at him, 'I don't care if you cheat on mom right in front of her. Because frankly, she deserves it....'
He gets up stupidly and walks towards me. I am not sure what he intends to do, but I never find out.

My hand moves, faster than I had thought of it, the axe in my hand marks its target. The first blow hacks his chest.
The naked lady screams and goes into the farthest corner, but I don't really care about her. I want to see him wither, to see him in pain.

'... how could you do this to me? your own daughter? I was just five when you fulfilled your dirty desires. How could you? You brought me into the world and you made my world as hell?'

The second blow splatters the blood around the room.

My hands and face are smeared into blood. Its a strange thing, that it is the blood of the person who gave me his blood.

I hack him to pieces, blow until blow, until my my ten years worth of prejudice is over. A last look at the old workshop as I pass. The old torture chamber I dreaded to step in since childhood. My worse fears.

A unplanned thought comes to my mind, I remove my cigarette lighter and set the wooden room ablaze. It is over, my worse fears are burning down.

I go to my old room, take a cold shower and wash off the blood. Somehow life seems right now. I see my cell phone, '26 miscals'

I smile and dial him to give the good news, 'Honey, I am pregnant.'

The next conversation is something that changes our world completely. We plan our house, our life around the little feet that have not yet come into existence.
How the life of thirty years changes in seconds. Suddenly all the reasons why I love him come back to me.

I rub my belly, patting my unborn baby in the womb.

The world is safe now for you to come, my darling. Come soon, mommy is waiting.

Child abuse is a crime, however more than a crime it is a act that robs the sense among the small children. If you know any incident, don’t be afraid to raise a voice, don’t let the memory repress under you. Some more bloggers who posted on the serious issue.
Shilpa Sharma
Nikita Gupta

These are the links I know off, do let me know if you have written something about it and I will update the links.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Double Shots

A horrible combination of alcohol, Bollywood and Hollywood.

He gulped the complete pint of whiskey in one gulp,

‘Come again? You… are the producer?’ he said.

‘Yeah man, I give you money,’ said the producer, ‘I want you to direct my film. Its actually remake of your Hollywood flick we have made a little modification’

‘Ok, run me over the script once more,’ the director turned towards the writer.

‘So actually we have this wonderful script, never seen before on Indian theatres. It has all the shades of drama, action, Sci Fi, romance…’

‘You said drama and action?’ the director asked taking one more pint of Whisky.

‘Yes sir, that is how we make the movies in India,’ the writer proudly boasted.

‘Interesting concept, run me through the script,’ the director said.

‘You know we have signed Superb Khan in this film,’ said the producer, ‘He has given us the dates for next two months.’

The director splat the mouthful of beer on the face, ‘Two months? that’s it?’

‘Yes, getting Superb Khan’s two months date is a herculean task sir,’ the producer informed gravely.

‘Ok so, what’s the script?’

‘So like there is this big meteoroid coming towards earth from sky to destroy the planet. Like a big one, a huge one…’ the writer began, ‘and all the people from world gather together to solve the crisis. They decide to send a man in rocket with a bomb on the meteoroid.’

‘You mean a nuke?’ the director asked.

‘No a bomb, we will not get a go ahead from censor board. They will claim we are teaching terrorist to operate nuclear bombs,’ the producer said.

‘Oh… so what base are we planning? Are we asking NASA to lend their base to shoot?’ The director asked.

‘Err no, we do not have that much budget, we are building a fake rocket base in Mumbai,’ the producer said.

‘Excuse me? Mumbai? I thought this was a big budget film? My agent told me so,’ the director asked worriedly.

‘Yes it is, but we have spend 50% of our budget to pay advance to Superb Khan,’ the producer shrugged.

‘So why don’t we get someone else?’ the director asked, ‘Someone cheap?’

‘Once you see the full script, you will see only Superb Khan can make this film a hit,’ the writer said, ‘Any other hero and you won’t get your fees too.’

‘Please continue,’ The director ordered one more pint of some strong whisky to digest the story.

‘So where were we? Yes, so they decide to send one man to save the world in a rocket. Enter the villain of the film, he is the old father to the Slimy Kapoor, the heroine. The father hates the girls boyfriend who is just a junior. The father wishes to marry his daughter to the son of his space agency owner, who happens to be the second hero, Action Kumar’

'I need to puke…’ the director excused himself to the washroom.

'The writer and the producer started talking to himself, ‘You think he will agree to direct?’

‘He has too, the bill for his whisky is too much,’ the producer explained.

‘Action Kumar has agreed to work for us cheap, as he has a bunch of other films also going on in the
market,’ the producer smiled proudly.

The director joined back, ‘Apologies. Too much drinking,’ he explained, ‘So like there is a family drama in the space center?’

‘Yes yes, there is. Also there is politics too. Lets continue…’ the producer informed.

‘So here like, we have a fifteen minutes song here, which will be shot in Switzerland in the snowy hills.’ the writer said, ‘The song will be the timeline of how their love story developed and also will be the perfect opening for Superb Khan and Action Kumar.’

‘A fifteen minute song? I thought you said the budget was not enough for foreign locations?’ the director scratched his head.

‘Oh the shooting of song expense will be covered with the brands Superb Khan and Action Kumar endorse,’ the producer said, ‘That is later, lets talk the movie.’

‘So the old man, plots the political drama and plans to send the Superb Khan to the meteoroid. Obviously to save the world the hero agrees, but then the old man plans the marriage of his daughter on the same date as the rocket launch.’

‘Now comes the best climax scene, which I want you to direct perfectly, this is going to give us rating.’ the producer greedily rubbed his hands.

‘So like the hero, Superb Khan is sitting in rocket starting the ignition, which fails once.’ The writer said.

‘Fails? Rocket ignition fails?’ The director said.

‘Yes yes, for dramatic effect…don’t disturb… at the same time, Action Kumar realizes that his wife is not happy with the marriage. He stops the marriage in between and takes her separately and asks her. She tells him about his love… and we have the climax. Superb Khan shreds one drop of tear while launching the rocket and that time, Action Kumar comes holding the hand of crying Slimy Kapoor and hands her over to Superb Khan.
 There sad music pops in and they both unite in the mist of the rocket launch,’

‘They stop the rocket launch?’ another gulp of whisky.

‘Yes yes they have to, its Superb Khan, he can do anything,’ the writer said irritated, ‘So Action Kumar then helps start the rocket and they all jump in the rocket and fly off to the meteoroid together.’

‘Why am I not surprised,’ grinned the director, ‘So now what? they detour to the moon for the honey moon?’

‘Oh my, this is hindi movie sir, no honey moon scenes, we can show two flowers, or a bee on flower. No direct scene,’ the producer said.

‘So like all the three reach the meteoroid and on the moon, they all land there and Superb Khan plants the bomb there… but then bad thing happens a gang of aliens attacks them and destroys the remote control of bomb. Then they kidnap the Slimy Kapoor to their hideout where both Action Kumar and Superb Khan chase them to their den, a fight scene erupts with light sabers ’

‘Oh…’ the director interrupted.

‘Yes, Light sabers, we watch science films. We wish to add the science fiction part into the film. So they save the Slimy Kapoor from the aliens and all come back to the meteoroid. But the bomb remote is destroyed and someone has to manually ignite it’

‘So like the final climax… Action Kumar generously offers to ignite the bomb…’

‘And now, I know why we are sending extra heroes to the meteoroid,’ the director exclaimed, ‘for all that’s worth it, I need one more whisky bottle.’

‘So like they both are sitting in the rocket holding their hands and Action Kumar is smiling at them waving at them… here again we need to add a song,’ the writer made a mental note, ‘So like they come back to earth. Then Slimy Kapoor realizes that the aliens where actually hired by her old man to kill Superb Khan. On further investigation it is relived that the old man plots the destruction of earth with the help of aliens, and finally we have the police coming in and arresting the evil cruel father.’

‘And here we roll the credits, and add a remix of song we shot earlier. We will end shots of marriage too,’ the producer said.

‘Thank God for that,’ shouted the director gulping a large amount of raw whisky.

‘So like you believe this film will work?’ the director asked.

‘Yes, I am confident, we have Superb Khan in it and Slimy Kapoor, also starring Action Kumar… that’s nearly the 90% of Indian Audience is their fans,’ the producer said.

‘How much are you getting paid for writing this script?’ the director asked.

‘Nothing, I am his son’ the writer beamed.

‘I need to puke.’ The director proclaimed.

P.s. Suggest a name for the film and get a free movie ticket for the movie.

P.p.s This is a actual contest, suggest a name for the film and get a award for it. :D

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Short Story: Family blood.

They never cared about me anymore. All of them forgot me, forgot their own father. I raised 4 children in a house of two rooms, all the four live in house of five rooms each, but can't they have one corner for their old father?

I gave them everything they needed. Their school, colleges, tuitions, books everything came from my blood. They never asked me how a worker working in a furnace for 18 hours a day managed to feed those toddlers imported biscuits, they never asked me how come I walked five kilometers despite the fact that there was a bus service till the door step? But they asked me… they asked me, why am I ruining their life?

 My elder son asked me why am I troubled his wife who comes home late, when I just asked for a cup of tea. I never learned how to make tea, but my wife left me halfway and I had to depend on others for my tea.
My next daughter asked me what should did I do with all the silverware of the house belonging to her mother? When she did not learn, I had no place in her house.

My son asked me why am I spoiling his kid by giving me toffees and telling him stories? Did he forget I told him the same stuff?

My youngest son complains I did not leave anything for him, did he forget I made him an engineer on wages of a furnace worker?

They now use a ball point pen for writing, but how did they forget their father still uses the old ink pen for writing?

Well, now I have to punish them don’t I? So what I am dead, I should punish them. Before jumping from the cliff, I thought about it once, that maybe they deserve a second chance, but then why should they?
They did not feel their old father needs a chance??? Feel that the old man spent all his life for you and he needs some time of his own?

I never learned how to stand fighting for your rights. I hear there are courts for such things and many parents complaint about their kids, but I was always weak there. During my working days I only fought once in a nationwide strike and broke my own leg.
But now there is a fighting chance… now I have to punish them. I have written a letter for them, a letter I carry with me, I am sure when my body is found they will suffer.

‘I herby blame all my children for making my life miserable and if anything happens to me, they are to be blamed’

That will teach them a bitter lesson.

As a spirit now I can see them…  I have just learned that I can move through walls. I also get teleported to any location or person, I think of.

See my daughter-in-law she is still talking on the phone, I am sure with one of her sleeve-cut blouse friends. Does she even know I am missing? I do not even wish to go close to the mean woman.

See my eldest son is not even in his house, must be busy with his office. Wonder how they make their marriage work?

Let me see if my daughter knows anything about it, there she is searching something in the house. She is rummaging thought my stuff, hey that is my private stuff. So she finally found the silverware.

There goes Chotu, innocently playing with toys I gave him and his father? Must have gone out with his wife.
Where is my lowest son? What is he doing at the police station? Must have done something bad this time, Was he on drugs? Was he a thief? Or corruption? Must find out…

I can hear him from this close,
‘What do you mean, you did not find him? Listen he is my father, I want him back… take as much money as you want, but bring me some news, understand!!!’ his voice is so loud.

Oh my so he remembered me. Finally at least youngest of my boys knows what about the eldest?

There he is driving in the car… wait a minute that is not his office route, is he going somewhere?

‘I cannot see dad anywhere honey, I have looked at this part of town. Yes, I will be going some twenty blocks more. No no, opposite side of town is covered my younger brother,’ he is speaking…. to his wife?
Means she was not talking with her friend. Oh why is all this so different? This should not happen!!!

They are behaving……… nice!!!

But but… but then…no my daughter she was hunting for the silverware, yes, she is it then… or is she??

There she is… no wait…she did not touch the silverware…they are lying there…she has taken… my clothes? My cane??

Oh…she is crying…

‘I never could say sorry to him,’ she cried, ‘He provided for us all and I took up a fight with him. I am sorry dad,’ she wept.

Now I realize the horror of my mistake. They were never bad, my perception about them was bad. Oh God, what have I done? How can I ever prevent this?  After reading the letter all their thoughts for me will vanish forever… waiting something is happening… my body it is found.

There my son is crying on my dead body. I see myself all covered in blood, now mixed with the tears of my family tears.

The inspector, he is investigating my body, he will find the letter… God, please stop him.

‘Sir, we found this letter in his pocket, must be some last words,’ the inspector said.

‘What has he written?’ my son asked. No. No. No.

‘The letter is damaged beyond reading sir, the blood has covered the letter completely. It seems your father used a water soluble ink pen. The ink has vanished due to blood.’

‘We will never know what his last thoughts were…’ he rubbed a tear from his eyes and stood up, ‘Rest in peace dad, we will miss you.’

I just learned spirits also have emotions…finally my family blood saved my family from falling apart.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Short Story: The masterpiece

He was never Learnardo, nor was he Michalango, but he called himself a artist.

He sat on the garden selling his potraits for mere 5-10 bucks and earn his daily morsel. As the darkness krept he purchased the daily bread and three canvas sheets and went to his house in the slum. He kept a modest living, never earning more than a hundred per day.

Every time he passed the stationary shop, he used to see the brushes on display, shiny golden brushes. Broad brushes, thin brushes, fresco brushes and many varieties.

'One day, I will become a big painter and purchase all of them. Then I will draw better paintings for Gudiya,' he though today.

Gudiya was his latest and smallest customer who used to come and play in the garden, she liked his colorful paintings and always purchased everyday from him.

"Get me a joker tommorrow, friend, I want a joker," the ten year old had asked today.

He purchased only one costly canvases today, only one for his masterpiece, only one for Gudiya.

"I am falling short of red color," he thought, putting hands in his pocket and counting the cash he received.

It was not enough to buy a color.

'The painting must be made for her,' he thought, 'She deserves a better.'

The whole night he drew her a joker, as it dawned he looked at the joker and it was his masterpiece without the red color.

Smiling at his effort he took the painting to the park waiting for Gudiya.

The dawn turned to afternoon and afternoon turned into night, Gudiya did not turn up. Slowly it was night again, and sadly he turned to leave.

On the way back, he saw Gudiya's mother weeping, fearing the worse he asked her about Gudiya.

'Yesterday evening, Gudiya met with an accident on this very street, Doctor says her health is critical. She was running towards me excited about some joker.'

Collapsed on hearing the words, he walked slowly towards the darknened road, today he had no paintings to make, today he had no sketches to make.

'God, take me instead of her,' he prayed under his breath as the tear rolled down.

As he walked with his head hung low, thinking about the joker and Gudiya, he saw a distant white light coming closely towards him.

The loud sound of the horn echoed in his ears as a metal body of the truck banged against his skin. His body lay there on the street, all covered in his own blood. Just underneath his shirt was his masterpiece, now filled with crimson red color.

He had the color red for plently now, only no paintings to make.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

55 Fiction Attempt one: Undying Love!!!!

Inspired by Shruti and Shilpa, this is my first attempt on writing a 55 fiction. No theme, just varied thoughts brought together in a 55 word story. Know more about 55-fiction here. Not sure if I used 55 words? Try the word counter.

She walked towards the bedside table and glanced at the hot cuppa coffee and a card waiting for her.
She smiled and read the card, 'To Ashwini, Lets start all over again- Love, Anup'

'Oh,' she exclaimed, sipping the coffee thinking of the dreadful deed and her bloodstained clothes...
Thud. She fell dead.

Oh well, how did I do? tell me, tell me na please...if you like it and have themed 55-fiction stuff, so inform me. I will write it.
Images Courtesy:  Ant Creations
Google Images.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Cosmic Cronicle Part II: The Journey into nothingness.

If you missed it before: Cosmic Chronicle Part I: A Small Bug.
I barely recall when I started my journey, was it yesterday? or just last week? I have already lost the track of time and I do not see the sun any more. The skies are scarred by the dense smog to see anything beyond it.

I have finally managed to find a car in this wreak and am driving without any directions. I have filled it with radioactive isotope I collected from the atmosphere. I am just exploring, waiting for my death.

Well, yes I am going to die, I am the last species of Homo Sapiens who populated the planet we called earth. My planet was destroyed by a small human error and now I stand on the threshold at the end of Humanity.

So far, my journey is fruitless and I have found no one else except for few rats, who have grown bigger than a human house due to radiation. I am driving my way wherever the road leads me, and making entry of my journey day by day so as a proof for human race.

I thank God that all people are dead and have not turned into mutants or monsters of some sort or survival would be difficult.

I wonder if I will finish this narration like Jules Verne, Around the world in 80 days for, sadly, I cannot count my 80 days as I see no sunrise, nor sunset.

I do not believe I even have 80 days of survival left.

The sky seems so dark and dangerous now with the smog covering up the atmosphere. The brown soil has turned reddish in nature mixed with bloods of all the dead species.

I have driven fairly in my new automobile and now I think I need to rest and lie down.

I am sitting here, under the darkened sky at the end of the human race waiting for my slow but certain death, try to put all the information I can collect into the chronicle.

I cannot let all this information vanish, I cannot let human race end with this.

Its a strange thing you see. My parents told me about God and I belived them. All the life I saw people fighting over religion but belive me, none, none of Gods came down to rescue the planet at the time.
If I were a religious person, I would say we all commited sins and our no-punishment guarantee is over now.
I do not know what sins I had committed that I survived. Its not easy to see all your things gone.

Today I visited my home. Nothing is left there, I saw blood all over the place. It is sad to see that here my 3 year old son played once.
The blood can be his...the burned flesh can be his mothers...

Feeling sad I was sitting on a rock wondering my future plans. What should I do? Shall I move on? or shall I settle here down when a strange thing happened.
He walked towards me.
"Hello," he smiled. He was wearing pure white clothes and had long flowing hair and beard.
"Hi..." I smiled back, not sure who he was, "You survived?"
"Yes..." he sat on the rock next to me, "Lets talk."
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Me? I am God" he smiled.
"," I staggered.
"Yes.... I have been reading your journal. Its nice to read your adventures but sadly I cannot let it survuve," he smiled, "You see we cannot leave any proof of any of this."
"Oh... ok..." I smiled, "What is going to happen now?"
"Nothing much, I have to restore the planet as it is from stratch..." he said.
"You can?" I asked, stupidly. Of course he is God, he can...duh uh.
"Yes, you see I periodically take backup of your planet and set a restore point. Since the age of dinos I have been very particular about it," he replied.
"Oh....ok," I was trying to digest the thoughts.
"You see, during the Jurassic age there was a meteoroid shower which was not phrophesized by me, but the species department tells me it was necessary to release Human being species on Earth in beta mode. So they cleared the region. Now I do not approve of such a thing, but then I cannot let this happen again, right? So...I started taking backup and it paid well, you see there was a plague epidemic that broke few days ago. The species department was trying a new species of mice, but then I could restore the whole planet," he answered.
" have a species department? You also work like humans?" I asked.
"Thats the beauty of your species you look for humanity in every thing you see," he smiled.
"You want to see humanity in God, in animals..." he answered, "Strange."
"So anyways, we are about to restore the planet in about 3 minutes from now...I just came to meet you to congratulate you for your survival..." he continued, "But in the backup, you are still stationed into your space station. So I cannot let you live here."
"Yes, you see we have come to complex part. I cannot kill you, I cannot make you vanish. Once the planet is restored there will be two of you present, which is not possible or time equilibruim will be disturbed. So I have come to take you with me. I am going to transfer you back to your form in form of memory. All the things you have witnessed will just be a dream for you. Is that ok?"
"Oh...ok," I said, God is asking for my permission?
"So now, we have one minute left. Do you want to know anything?" God asked.
"Yes, I wanted to know...what is answer to life, universe and everything??" I asked.
And God laughed...laughed out loud.
"42," he replied, "I think your fellow human answered this question long back isn't it?"
"That is correct?" I asked.
"Who knows? I don't understand you species. How do you get so much time to ponder over such questions? There is a section among you who they say can talk to me, yet I do not even know them. Why are you so worried about such things? Human life is given to do your work. Let me do mine. Why do you keep on praying to see miracles when you can be miracle yourself?
No one can die for you, no one can live for you? You have to do it yourself. Every thing you do is an adventure for me, nothing is predictable. Future is just as fragile as the past.
Just go home, do your work and sleep peacefully.
At end of the day if you can sleep peacefully, then you are holy." he replied.
"Oh..." I saw my faith crushing down in my front.
"Its about time, you are going to wake up in your space station. All the things you witness will be in memory as a dream. All the best for your future.
Oh and btw I am taking your cronicles. Those books are for my record."


After a wonderful dream I woke up fresh and peaceful.

Have you read my book yet?

Have you read my book yet?
An epic adventure across space and time