dreamszilla

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...

A vainglorious landlord is mortified to find his property defaced by amusing graffiti. Image generated with OpenAI I've always wanted to be a hero. That's why I became a landlord. This country is in the midst of a housing crisis. Such trying times demand a champion, a man of noble intentions. And what could be more noble than providing a home for the downtrodden at fair market rates? So, when my father asked me to manage one of his apartment buildings in Lexington while he attended to important business across the fairways of Florida, I leapt at the opportunity. In the end, I suppose I didn't seek greatness... it was thrust upon me. My job requires many talents. I must be a master of duct tape and patchwork. I must be able to paint a two-bedroom apartment in less than twenty-five minutes - electrical panels and kitchen drawers included. And I must be relentless in the pursuit of rent, ability to pay notwithstanding. But today calls for a new set of skills....

A detective visits a woman connected to two missing persons cases, and finds something shocking. Image generated with OpenAI My suspect lived at the end of a cul-de-sac in a two-story bungalow surrounded by similar small houses. Two children were out front playing - a boy and a girl - enjoying the summer weather. The boy had a yellow plastic dump truck in his hand, a load of pebble gravel in the berth of the dump body. The girl, meanwhile, was clutching a piece of chalk and busily etching out a hopscotch board on the concrete. Kids . That could be a problem. I parked my Crowne Vic in the driveway behind an old Econoline van that didn't look like it had been washed or driven in years. Neither of the kids took any notice of me. I imagined they were used to seeing strange men enter and leave their mother's house. Or maybe they were just some neighbor's kids, but comfortable enough to encroach on Ariadna's property without fear. For all I knew she had a re...

An aspiring author moves in with a washed-up artist and they both try to find direction in their lives. Image generated with OpenAI Freya dreamed of a book launch for her debut novel A Bower of Myrtles . A bookshop converted from an old church. Stained glass windows cast speckles across animated faces. She saw her short blond curls, usually so unruly, now perfectly classy; her nose pert, not flat. Her long satin dress reflected the blue of her eyes, folding and flowing, capricious as the sea. "Could I get a signature?" A woman approached, strangely familiar, "Your writing captures the female struggle so poignantly. It's given me courage to face my life." She looked like Mum, Freya thought. "Thank you so much! You've no idea what that means to me." She found a Montblanc fountain pen in her hand and signed the title page. "Sorry, where did you sign?" Freya looked down, and couldn't find her signature anywhere. She wr...