Take A Look- Part 3

“Alright! Now we’re getting somewhere. Follow me we got an agenda to follow!” Said the Alien.

“You are talking properly” deducted Finn

“Of course! The Internet is a mix of different types of English. Now come in the space craft.”

Now it should be clear to the reader that going into strange space crafts is against the rules of self preservation. But nine-year olds don’t have a sense of self preservation, do they? Finn and the Alien walked into the space craft. It doesn’t matter how the space craft was in the inside (bigger probably) except the fact there was a holographic table in the middle.

The Alien and Finn reached the table. The alien explained to Finn that this table was infact a terraforming device which could do quite close to anything to the planet.

“Now, you gotta understand, I’m the representative of a league of alien empires, and we believe humanity is ready to join us. With a few minor touches of course, you are going to make those touches” said the Alien.

“Oh. I don’t like geese. Kill the geese.” says Finn.

“XD, WTF man you don’t like geese? K then.” The Alien typed something and pressed a button “They are dead now. But we need to do something about the pollution”

“Hmm. Pollution cause ice bergs to melt, right? Convert the pollution into ice cream!”

We all can see where this is going.



She stood there staring at her old house, nostalgia creeping over her. It snuck into her mind filling it with mixed emotions and bitter memories. Her eyes narrowed and her face saddened to see her house for the last time.

She remembered all the times she had played in that house. She remembered how her father used to make her favourite food on Sundays, she remembered how the food tasted and how it felt on her tongue. She remembered every time her friends came over and every time her Mother scolded her for something wrong. She remembered how she planted an oak tree, and how it grew and how she cared for it. She remembered all of it.

She stood there staring at her old abode, soon to be someone else’s. Tears formed in her eyes, not tears of joy nor sorrow, tears of nostalgia. She thought of what has been and what could have been. She then realised how important this house was to her, this house which she had taken for granted, she realised its importance. And she didn’t want to let it go.

He noticed Her staring at her old house. He noticed Her tears. He went up and asked her “Hey, what’s wrong?”, to which she she replied-after wiping her tears and putting on a smile-

“Nothing, it’s just nostalgia.”


The following story is fictional. Excuse the sex jokes. 
When I was in high school (9th Grade or so) I really wanted to go in for solo-singing for the next annual day. Now to make this clear an “Annual Day” in our school which is held, as you may have guessed, annually. Students just perform little skits, or sing songs or just try to entertain the audience.

So as I was saying, I wanted to go for solo-singing. To get selected I had to audition in front of Mrs. Jacks, our music teacher. Mrs.Jacks was quite a fat woman. No not plump, not large, not massive, just fat. She had flabs of fat hanging from her cheeks, much like a bulldog. And the glasses she wore were simply hideous. She was all in all, every Tinder users’ nightmare.

I’m a good soprano. I have a nice, deep voice which doesn’t usually falter. But falter it did when  I gazed upon the amount of people in for solo-singing.  My chance came up after a while, and I announced what I wanted to sing and started singing.

I began the song and I came to a part where I really had to deepen my voice. I did so. Apparently it wasn’t enough, because Mrs.Jacks jumped saying “Go on, Rayan, Deeper. As much deep as you can. I’m not getting that nice feeling yet.” Everyone behind me burst out laughing. But in their defence,they were teenagers, they took nearly everything as a sexual joke.

As I continued the song, Mrs.Jacks kept making weird noises. Noises like- “Aah” and “Unh” and “Ooh” -and saying things like- “Keep it coming” or “it’s so good!” Or “this is the best”- I’m sure my dear reader,you’ll agree that Mrs.Jacks,back then, was very sexually aroused. By what? I hope it wasn’t me.

A couple of days later, the results of the auditions came out. I was in for solo-singing! But all selected participants had to have “personal lessons” from Mrs.Jacks for the next three days.

I decided I was better of not doing solo-singing.