dreamszilla

When a child goes missing in a West African village, two friends dare to explore the forbidden Lake. Image generated with OpenAI My name is Gabriel, and my favorite place in the whole wide world is the dusty path by the little river behind our house. That's where I go to think, and to sing. Everyone in Oyo knows the song. You hear bakers singing it as they knead dough, and farmers humming it in the fields. It goes: "Under the orange tree, that is where we play. We are happy, we are cheerful. Under the orange tree. Orange, Orange, Orange." No one knows what it means. There isn't a single orange tree in Oyo! But it's cheerful, and it sticks in your head like honey. My partner in crime is Lara, from the village across the bridge. She's braver than any boy I know, with eyes that are always plotting. Our favorite game is trying to sneak past the grim-faced guards at the entrance to the Lake of Oyo. We've never made it. The Lake is old and solemn. Every ye...

George gets in a pickle at work when his date Mia's punny pranks get out of hand. Image generated with OpenAI At first, her little jokes were innocent and thoughtful; honestly, they were. On their first date, Mia gave him an origami folding of a dog (it was her model example for the third graders in her classroom). When George unpeeled the flap of the dog's ears, she had written in curly-cursive purple ink: It is a pawsitive delight to meet you . An awkward gesture, to be sure, but the date was so pleasant, the conversation flowed so effortlessly that it was a touching gift in hindsight. Mia was not only George's type (muscular and confident), but she quickly initiated physical contact by running her fingers along the space between his shoulderblades. Her touch made his arms droop, his jaw unclench, and for the first time on a date, he didn't constantly bitch about his middle-management position in corporate finance. Feeling bold, George attempted a few puns of his ow...

A man recalls a memorable work trip to Kerala's beautiful Vembanad Lake. Image generated with OpenAI It was dusk when we reached the hotel, which according to the various reviews I had read, was situated right on the shore of the lake. For many years now, I had been dreaming of visiting Kumarakom in Kerala to take a look at the Vembanad lake, reportedly India's longest. I contrived to make sure that the venue of the management retreat of my team would be Kumarakom. I couldn't contain my excitement to complete the check-in formalities. "Where's the lake?" I asked the receptionist. "It's basically there." He pointed his hand without shifting his eyes from the screen. "I'll be back. Meanwhile, please check me in. Those, there, are my bags. Please have them placed in my room." I looked around. My colleagues were asking, "Where's the bar?" Balaji gave me a meaningful look. "Want to come? I want to see the lake before i...

A cash-strapped father of two finds a supernatural button that offers him a new kind of life, but at what cost? Image generated with OpenAI I have been writing in this journal on suggestion from my therapist for just over six months now, and I must say that it has worked far better than I imagined it would. My mind is clearer. I have been sleeping better (though I may have the Trazadone to thank for that). I still cry, but less frequently. I think I'm ready to write the entry I've been dreading since she handed me this notebook. I'm ready to tell the truth about what happened. Everything started on a Saturday, I think it was February 23rd. Maybe it was the 24th. My wife and I slept through our alarm, which was okay because it was the weekend and we'd shared a bottle of wine the night before. I woke up first, and decided to let Laura sleep. That's my wife's name. Laura. Beautiful name. Anyway, I got dressed and went downstairs, and the two kids we...