Here I am again, at your door. It’s as almost as if I’ve never left. No matter where I go I always end up here no matter how hard I try. It’s like all roads lead to Rome, all rivers fall to the sea, all the birds fly south and  my heart always comes back to you.

We’ve had our ups, we’ve had our downs, we had a great great run. So many memories, good and bad. So much happy and so much sad. Every moment spent flying sparks at each other, on the flipside, had a moment of quiet bliss, nestled in loving arms. We were together on that long and winding road so long. For every curve and bend, there would always be that long stretch of straight and narrow, where I’d watch the sun shine through your hair and all would be right with the world as we laughed and exploded in happiness hurtling down that road of life with the cool wind strong in our faces.

But I always took the back roads, so many bends and twists and turns, so hard to keep straight, so hard to keep upright, when what I should have given you was the cosy smooth sail you came for. You didn;t sign up for  that. You didn’t ride with me for the whiplash, and the crash. That’s when you left. That’s when I went on alone.

And I did go on. I tried. But with noone to guide me along, I got lost so many times. Trudging on through darkness and fog, and through the rain and the storms. But I kept going. I kept going on because no matter where I was, this life, this long winding road I’m on, it always comes back to you. I always come back to you. Because its always been you and you are always where my life will lead to.

So please, don’t keep me waiting here. Lead me to your door.

For the Indie Ink Writing Challenge this week, Sheree challenged me with “The ‘Long and Winding Road’ by the Beatles is the inspiration for your story.” and I challenged Major Bedhead with “the dog’s meow”.

This really didn’t come out like I hoped it would. I got a major dose of writer’s block on the prompt. Ultimately i just started typing, with no filters, almost on the end of the deadline and this is what came out of it.

ඒ කාටුන් ටික. එත් කාටුන් විතරද අපි කට ඇරන් බලං හිටියෙ? මතක නැද්ද රොබින් හුඩ්, කුංෆු, ඔෂින්, පුංචි ඉත්තෑවා, සුරඟන කතා කරළිය, පිනෝකියෝ, හිම කුමරිය, ජැක් සහ මායා බෝංචි වැල, සුරූපී විරූපී, ඇලඩින් සහ පුදුම පහන, හසරැළි රසාර, පුංචි ඇත් පැටියා, ලන්ඩනයේ අතරමංව, මනුතාපය, මොන්තක්‍රිස්තෝ සිටුවරයා, යවෙස්ලූ මිනිසා?

පිටරට භාෂාවක් අපිට තේරෙන විදියට හරවන එක ලේසි වැඩක් නෙමෙයි. එක පට්ට අමාරු වැඩක්. වචනෙන් වචනේ පෙරලලා හරියන්නේ නෑ නේ. ඒ ඒ භාෂාවලට ආවේනික උපමා, ඉඟි, පිරුළු, කොච්චර තියෙනවද? එකනේ අලුත් භාෂාවක් ඉගෙන ගන්න ඔච්චර අමාරු. එත් ටයි මාම එක කළා විතරක් නෙමෙයි, එක කලේ ශබ්දකෝෂේ  තියෙන ගාම්භීර වචන නොදා අපි හැමදාම කතාකරන වචන දාල. ඒ වෙන මොනවත් නෙමෙයි, හැකියාව හැකියාව. වැඩිය ඕනෙ නෑ, දිය රකුස් ගේ ගෝලය චෞ චෞ මතකද? පිස්සු පුසගේ ටෝක්? 

I missed the first Pecha Kucha. Primarily because I had no idea what in blue blazes it really was. The first event was, to my memory, in the middle of a sudden flurry of semi-famous DJ events with weird names from Europe, the Med.. maybe Narnia? In the end I missed out on what must have been a truly unique event of creative ideas and their creators. That’s what this is apparently. A meeting of minds, a show of ideas.

As taken from their site;

Unlike the famous TED events, Pecha Kucha is a bottom-up event, where its not the proven experts in a field but the ones low on the totem pole, the ones that have a great idea but rarelyt recieve a platform to express it, that do the talking. Which is something to be appreciated I think. Not to mention the abbreviated 20×20 format keeping things alive and not boring.

So if you’re in the area, which is to say you should make sure that you’re in the area, check it out.

---

“How did you know??” I demanded of Pierre. We were sitting down in my study for a late tea. The detective had left with the others but he had forgotten his pocketbook. One thing led to another and here we were. Me in my usual armchair with a cuppa while he paced about the room restlessly.

“That you were the beneficiary in the new will where the young Wittlemeyer wouldn’t recieve a cent? My dear Captain it’s hardly surprising considering how well you took care of him lately. You were a true friend and second son to him.”

“But you still suspect me I gather. Money IS the root of all evil.”  I replied sarcastically and I still did not believe he really knew who the killer was. “I must be really tired today. Feeling sleepy already, I am.”

“On the contrary, ” Pierre replied. “I never suspected you. Also contrary to your skepticism I DO know who the killer is.”

“Really? Who is it then? ” I replied rubbing my eyes as sleep seemingly attempted to take me then and there.

“It is I,”  Pierre replied. ” I killed Lord Wittlemeyer.”

“You? Impossible” I replied. “Why would you? You hardly knew the man.”

“Oh we knew each other better than you know dear Captain. If this investigation were to press further such circumstances would undoubtedly be revealed. He forced my hand. I had no choice but to employ such a brutal method. It was so distasteful.”

“But.. but.. you’ve been… been…… part of… investigation…”  I slurred and stuttered.

“How better to know how close the police were to discovering the truth. It was also the perfect way to find someone else to take the blame. I’m so sorry my dear Captain. ‘ he said, with a most mournful look upon his face.

“S.. s.. someone.. else… blame… ?? ” Then it suddenly became clear to me. “The tea… you .. y …poison.. how…. why… m… me??” I stammered.

“Sleight of hand is a valuable skill in my trade dear friend, it wasn’t that difficult to slip something in. And I do wish it hadn’t been you, but you and you alone could dispute an alibi I produced when eventually I would be questioned, in addition when I discovered you even had a possible motive…. it was really two birds with one stone.”

“You… never. get…… “

“Everyone saw me leave. Noone saw me come back. When they find you they’ll find a most convincing suicide note detailing how and why you did it. I’ve seen your writing enough times to make one of my own”

It was almost impossible to keep my eyes open. It required all my strength and I could feel it slowly sapping away as an immense desire to fall asleep overwhelmed me. 

“Tell… me … why.. ” I blurted out with my last ounce of strength. “Why kill Wittlemeyer… you owe.. me.. that.. much.”

He looked at me with sad eyes, and in a fleeting moment I saw the facade fall and a true sense of remorse overcome him. 

“You’re right Captain, I do owe you that much.” he sighed. “The reason is that I…..”

…………………….

THE END

For the Indie Ink Writing Challenge this week, Karla V challenged me with “The dinner party was not at all going as planned. When the doorbell rang that last time, there was a mixed sense of relief and dread” and I challenged Mark G. with “the doctor, the sailor, the clown and the tailor…”.

Here’s something (all too often shared now, but not enough before) where you will see why and how Steve Jobs was Steve Jobs; the Stanford University Commencement address delivered by Steve Jobs, CEO of Apple Computer and of Pixar Animation Studios, on June 12, 2005.

link to transcript of speech

For those of you challenged in the nuances of Sinhala I offer the following AFAIK explanation. Please feel free to educate everyone in the comments if you know better.

As accurately mentioned here; 

“Mal Kadanawa (මල් කඩනවා) – To engage in flirtious chit-chat with member(s) of opposite sex.” 

I’m not sure of the etymology of the above slang myself. I’ve heard various origin stories, one being it came about from a movie where a girl was playing the “He loves me, he loves me not” game. I personally favoured the idea that it came from the abundance of movie scenes where a communal picking of flowers for religious offerings is a convenient opportunity for such a conversation (something I found is not entirely untrue), making the two synonymous with each other.

One other is the page photographed above which is from the standard school textbook for Sinhala for either Grade 1,2 or 3 from some time ago, where a little boy and a little girl are underneath a Sal tree. The dialogue reads; 

Amara, Nayana [boy, girl] are underneath the Sal tree.
[Amara;] Look there, that Sal flower is beautiful. Shall I pick it?

I do miss school days.. a lot. (It’s not like I was one of the “popular kids”, which incidentally is somewhat an alien concept around here.) Best fun I had in my life ever.

She knew she wasn’t the only one thinking it. All the other moms in this class probably, no definitely, shared her sentiment as Stacy’s mom just pulled the rug out from under her feet at today’s parent-teacher meet. “Fine…” she thought, “if Mz.power-suit-$600-an-hour doesn’t think two dads are good enough to pull off directing the kids play, she can pay for the guy she wants to hire.”

It really wasn’t how successful Cindy was that was the problem, it was how she seemed to be a total psychopath sometimes. As if it wasn’t enough that she helped push through the company takeover that made most of the parents here lose their jobs and people resented her for it, she continued to act like she was the queen bee and everyone else was her minions. Never failing to make a derisive comment or put down and she always did it with a smile. It was a shame that adorable little girl of hers was also paying for the mother’s sins. Not that the mother seemed to show much interest in her anyway. You never saw her at school unless it was absolutely required.

“All right then…” the teacher Mr. Medina was saying, as she jumped back to reality. “I think that’s everything covered. So if everyone would like to go down to the cafeteria, we can have a bite to eat, which incidentally can also be your review of the cafeteria food. “

====================

“Mommy, I want some pudding too!” Sam began to cry out. 

“I know honey…” she started, “…but they were all out okay? See there’s no more there. So you’ll have to make do ok?”

“No. No. No. I want one, I WANT!” and she saw the signs of one of his tantrums coming on. “Sam, honey come on. Calm down. It’s not the end of the world.” she said as she tried to hold his arms and hug him. Sam just twisted away and stood up and screamed again. ”No. No. No. I want one, I WANT!” She sighed and just buried her face in her hands. She knew that everyone else thought of her as the perfect soccer mom. Patient and kind, always helping everyone , always with a smile, staying strong for the kids. But this time she couldn’t help it. It had been such a tough week and Joe had lost his job as well. This was just too much.

“Hey, Sam Sam, what’s with the screaming?” she heard a voice speak out. “I want some pudding too!” Sam replied. “Really? Well here you can have mine. You know what Sam…”  She looked up to see it was the queen bitch herself. She hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge her presence to her but she was talking to Sam like they had been best friends forever, and Sam was just happily chatting away and munching away on a pudding cup too. Smiling even. She couldn’t believe it, so she just sat there staring, silent and dumbstruck.

====================

The meeting was over and they were walking down to the cars. She couldn’t still somehow believe that Cindy who was, and still is, the meanest most obnoxious parent she had ever met, had been the sweetest friend to her son Sam for the last 15 minutes. It wasn’t something everyone could do. Connecting with an Aspergers child was remarkable, even a high functioning one like Sam. Could she have misjudged her? Maybe there was some long lost deep dark secret that made sense of who Cindy was? Maybe she should give her a chance. Should she?

“Mom…” Sam spoke up “…is Cindy and Melissa coming to my birthday party next week. Everyone from class is coming right?”  She sighed, and was quiet for a second as her mind processed everything that had happened.

“No honey, I don’t think they can make it.”

———————————————————————————–

Written for the IIWC. I was challenged by Brad with “A trace of evil in every good person, a trace of good in every evil person.” Check out Tara’s awesome take on a sucky subject I gave her here

He walked in through the double doors and looked around. No one paid him a nickel’s worth of attention, and those who did couldn’t care less as the turned away. Except her. Her with her gleaming green eyes and long flowing auburn hair, she looked more beautiful than any goddess as she put swans to shame, the way she was gliding across the dance floor. She turned and saw him enter and she smiled. That smile that outshone the sun in day and outdazzled the stars at night. The smile that was as innocent as a newborn doe and as playful as a kitten. The smile that he knew with all his heart and soul, and yet always had a new meaning every time it came out. The smile that always said ‘I know what you’re thinking’ and always had the answer he needed to hear. And so it did. He had his answer.

He knew they had all the time in the world because she would be there for him always. She would wait for him because he was the one in her heart.  Time had stopped, even ended for them. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, but that just meant that they had to make it be. The mere thought of it sent him laughing inside. They were mad to even think of the possibility here, where all these people would only be too glad to lynch him if they found out. They had to have lost all reason, but being madly in love meant that you lost all your reason anyway didn’t it? It felt that way for him, for them, here, at the end of all time and reason.. and the beginning of true and undying love. 

This weeks response to IIWC made to me by Cedar ,who gave me the prompt “Here, at the end of all time and reason…” Also do check out Tobie’s brilliant response to my prompt. I’m not entirely happy with how I dealt with the amazing prompt. Gave me so many ideas, but I just couldn’t voice any of them the way I really wanted. Hope this isn’t too bad.

When he woke up he was confused. What was he doing in this motel? Had they literally dumped him off the program? He went to the door and tried it.. and it wouldn’t budge. He had pounded on it for ages to no avail. Then suddenly it happened. The groaning. It was so loud. It seemed to come from every side and every direction. Filling his ears and his mind with fear, confusion, and visions of Godzilla rising from the depths. He desperately looked for a way to get out of here. The door wouldn’t work, so… the window! He rushed to the inner rooms and spotted a closed window. With a huge sigh of relief he ran to it and flung it open. A visions of bright green hills and a serenely shining sun above them greeted him. It was very nicely painted on the wall that was there on the other side of the shutters where the window opening was supposed to be. He didn’t have time to worry about it though as suddenly a huge explosion of sound rose up from beneath him and suddenly the floor shifted, tossing him against the opposite wall. When he senses recovered he saw the floor tilted about 70 degrees and tilting further still. As he tried to comprehend what was happening, it happened again. A loud boom rocked the walls of his room, everything suddenly stopped working, the lights, the TV with no signal, the shower he had running, gravity. He was floating, he was floating! He flied around in midair as his room and everything in it swirled around him. He tried to enjoy the sensation but he was in testing too long and he recognized free fall when he saw it. Also parts of the wall had fallen off and the huge void with glimpses of steel girders rushing past was a dead giveaway. But then, he stopped.

Well it was more like crashed really. The biggest crunching sound he ever heard in his life suddenly erupted below him as the the south corner of the room suddenly shot up towards him. He twisted around in space to land feet first. He knew that the things Aperture put on his feet would absorb the impact. What he didn’t know was that the impact would weaken the walls and he would crash right through it and land on the other side. The other side being a starkly white chamber with white neon lighting, filled three quarters with Cheetos that were dropping slowly from a vent in the roof, and a very shocked and scared young girl in an orange jumpsuit cowering in the corner. It was then that the groaning started again.

It took a little while to calm her down. But he made a friend out of her in time. She was a test subject too and had pretty much the same story as he did except she seemed to have been expected to eat a quarter ton of Cheetos in her room or something. They moved into his ‘motel room’ which had a bed and couches and stuff where they could stay reasonably comfortably and thankfully had also leveled out into a livable angle. But the pieces of wall that had fallen off the sides and the now opening door left nothing but horror to their imagination. They were hanging off the side of an enormous structure, probably miles in height and width, stretching as far as the eye could see. A contraption of steel girders and robotic arms and cranes with levels holding thousands and thousands of white metal boxes. Boxes like theirs. White and sterile on the outside, a dingy motel room, a plain white test chamber and god knows what else on the inside with some poor sap inside too no doubt. They figured out the groaning too. The structure was failing. Metal girders screamed in agony as they snapped and hurtled boxes into the bottomless chasm below. The noise was impossible to ignore but they shut the doors and for days they pretended it didn’t happen. Death no doubt awaited them, coming crashing from above or letting them hurtle to their depths. But when? It already seemed like years.

IIWC again. Prompted by Katri, inspired by Portal 2. Check out Amy who wrote on my prompt.