Skip to main content

Chapter Nine: The Lighthouse

 Children! It’s these devilish gifts of God that I hate. You may think I’m just an old crook, but I assure you, I have my reasons. It was Munu, my nephew, who just made a plane out of my salary check. Now, if you saw the amount on that check, you might say it didn’t make much of a difference, but still—who in heaven’s name does such a thing?


I would have introduced you to the simple man’s adventure this time, but—

No, Munu! That’s my newspaper, don’t make a ball out of it! I haven’t even used it yet... No! Bloody— I’m telling your mom!

It’s funny, in all this chaos, I can’t help but think about how sometimes we reach what we sought and still feel empty

Oh, Munu! What on earth are you doing? That’s my beloved flower pot—put it down gently... No, no, no, not like that!

The Lighthouse 

I saw a sea that was ever-blue,
I saw its gentle calls and violent billows,
I saw vessels of all kind glide high and dive deep,
I saw the sun drown, I saw the moon rise,
I saw the brightest day, I saw the darkest night,
I saw merry faces, I saw dead souls,
I saw the bold ones, I saw the quivering ones,
And all that for I was the lightman of the old lighthouse.

You may assume fearless soul of mine,
You may have believed I have tales to tell,
Of how I braved the tempest's wrath, or how I conquered the unknown,
Of how I charted uncharted seas, forging paths where none had roamed.
Of how I .........

But, But I don't have a word to say,
For I am nothing but a deceiver,
For I saw nothing, nothing of any kind,
For I am just a liar unworthy of everykind,
Never in all these years have a ship wandered the waters of ever-blue,
Never once did the sea rage in all these years,
Nor did I slayed the mystic beasts,
Nor did I claim Davy Jones' fabled treasure.

But perhaps the coins were meant to flip, and pages destined to turn,
Journeys awaiting their tales to be etched, adventures yet to be won,
For one silent night came a tempest,
A tempest so fierce, it claimed all in its path,
Short boats, long boats, small vessels, large vessels, great ships and grand ships,
The tempest took it all in one single night,
Hundreds were dead and thousands injured,
Many were yet to be found in this dreadful night

But, ah! I was not sorrowful, I was merry, for I held a tale to unfold,
A saga of epochs, a narrative of ages yet to be told.
I was no longer lies in any kind, I was the truth of all kind,
Now I look and wonder if it was a lie or a turth told early,
But who cares for all it is, is a story!





Comments

Popular posts from this blog

FOREWORD

Adventures—what a fascinating word, isn’t it? It refuses to be confined by the boundaries of mankind. What was once a mere curiosity became mankind’s mission.From the barren lands of Sahara to the dense forests of Amazon, from the Pacific Ring of Fire to the chilling lands of Antarctic, from the unwandered lands to uncharted seas, We conquered it all. There remains, nothing adventurable except those of this Simple Man. What's so adventurous about this Simple Man? Well, everything! For I am not a typical adventurer, I am the chief editor of a generic English newspaper. You see I would not have became an adventurer to begin with, if my dear sister (whom I will now refer as demonly creature) had not suggested that I must do something about my handwriting, but how can I? I am a doctor by degree. That doesn't have anything to do with my adventure, I just like to show off. Anyways, skipping the reasons and questions, I present to you my perplexing and intriguing view, which may elud...

Chapter two: Tea bags

It is not very rare that I have a problem with someone or something, but you know what, sometimes it is not the problem that I have, sometimes it's just my pure genuine sense of hatred. Very few people have deeds so great to hold a feeling so genuine. Of course, how can I not mention our honorable electricity department for accomplishing something so genuine (hatred of course but still genuine). I would sing you tales of their tiresome deeds but of course, I don't have to do that troublesome task since every single man in this country holds a grudge against them for some or the other reason. Oh God!! I forgot I had a column to write but how can somebody do something in this house, I yawped. Just because the lights are down and you have work pending does not mean you can take the entire house on your head, cleared the horrifying eyes in the utter silence. Well, my belief that the darkness could make my sister less scary was not so right, I guess. If only it was not for my carefu...

Chapter Six: The Freedomic Halloween

I must have said that I work for a old generic english newspaper house. It is not a very popular job for writers like me but it pays decent. However this decent pay is a difficult achievement. It happens to be so because one has to drill water in the desert for it.  Oh! You might be thinking what this has to do with the adventures; Well during one such work for the newspaper column I had to gather data about freedom in old dusty archives of ours. A useless business as I might like to call it, unless, ofcourse, a adventurous story come across. Well as you may have guessed I did come across one - The Freedomic Halloween