Recoil

I stand at the window, staring at the street and the passerbys. The sky has turned blueish orange - the sun is about to set, dawning the night. Evening breezes blow, calming my insides that keep churning throughout the day. Something just like this by Coldplay and Chainsmokers plays in the background, my sister must be playing it on her laptop, I guess. There's a restaurant right in front of the building I live in, just across the street. It's a well, six storied glass building, that stands tall. I bite my upper lip, and touch my face. It's been weeks that I've shaved. Through the glass of the restaurant, I see a couple sitting, waiting for their food to arrive. Maybe they haven't yet even ordered​, must be thinking what they should fill their stomachs with. I can tell by their actions, they're a newly wed couple, embarking on a whole new journey in life. The joy of being with each other is visible on their faces. The lady can't stop smiling. For my convenience, I name them Mary and Joe.

Mary is a beautiful woman, long hair, wears maybe a dress that is orange, or red - I can't really tell from a distance. Her wedding ring is a giant diamond that shines and reflects through the glass walls. She has a smile affixed to her face that doesn't seem would vanish anytime soon. Joe must be a lucky man.

On the other hand, the man sitting opposite her is Joe, suited up, clean shaven, perfectly suiting her. He is saying something that makes Mary blush. Somehow, seeing them makes me smile, too. Their food arrives, and I can't really guess what it is that they're eating but she takes up a piece of it and feeds Joe. He smiles and eats it. Then he does the same. Mary and Joe look very happy. I don't realize when smiling for them takes me back into the memory lines of the past, the ones that I've left way down the road, the ones that I've locked up way too deep in my heart. The song changes to Shania Twain's You're Still The One, and the opening lines strike me. "When I first saw you, I saw love. And the first time you touched me, I felt love. And after all this time, you're still the one I love." I feel a tear trickle down upto my nose, and suddenly all I'm filled with is one name. A name that is the sunshine in my darkest days, a name that still aches to be said, a name I'll never get over. Her name.

Amy and I had been on and off time and again. We were set up on a blind date by our mutual friends and we had really hit it off. Things weren't bad with us, but they weren't good either. Our separation wasn't a bummer to anyone, everyone had seen it coming, except us. We were in love, and suddenly we weren't. It didn't matter, we just didn't work. No matter how hard we tried, what we did, we knew it wasn't meant to be.

Right now, I'm trying hard to not let the memories get ahold of me. I'm trying not to reminisce, because if I do, I will want to have her back. And everyone knows how that ends very well. I want her, but I don't want her. I can't want her, well, that's the thing. Now my thoughts start to race and conflict within. I hate this part. A part of me thinks we should have a life apart and ahead of each other, we're toxic. It's for the best that we stay detached. But again, the heart feels what the heart feels. It wants what you can't have, always. It's insane.

"Oh Chrissie, change the damn song!" I yell at my sister. Mary and Joe look so happy still, and now I'm wanting to be like that with someone.

I can't help all these feelings that are rushing in. Amy must not even be thinking about me. I have to convince myself not to go back to her.

Do I love Amy? Yes.

Am I in love with Amy? I'm not so sure. Maybe.

She's the good part about me. When I'm with her, I'm a better person. Without her, eh, not so much. But she awakens the beast in me. She has a hold over me I can't deny. And that isn't very saintly, either. I can't call her. I won't call her.

I look at Mary and Joe one last time - the vibrant smile on the woman's face and the satisfaction on the face of the man - I want that. I want a relationship. A relationship. With Amy? Damn, why her?
I go and sit on my bed. My mind and my heart are stubbornly arguing, and neither of them is giving up.

Oh, for the love of God! Forget about her already.

The battle in my head doesn't seem to have an end. Why does she have this impact on me? I want to move forward with my life, I have to. But somehow, I keep going back to her, well not me, but my heart does. I guess that's the thing, when you have loved someone, they never really go away.

I pick up my phone and dial.

"Hello, Amy?"

Shadows

These shadows, they follow me everywhere. Day and night. Night and day. All the time. It's like a part of me that I don't want around, but can't separate from myself. It's like a contamination, I feel it spread throughout my insides through my blood, whilst I see the reflections of those in the form of the shadows around me. They're scary. It's like the weight that is tied around my legs when I am drowning, I cannot come to the surface. I seem perfectly fine to everyone but I'm drowning, drowning in myself, as I hear the shadows laugh at me. I recognise those shadows, you know, I'm it, but I cannot get rid of it anyway. It's like a belt that's been fastened around my neck, controlling me, making it difficult for me to breathe, and having people tell me it's all in my head? When I walk, I feel its weight on my shoulders, more so a burden, a luggage that I have to carry around no matter what. I don't speak, not because I can't, but the constant calculations of the holocaust that's going on in me makes it difficult for me to think. I'm not pretentious or holding myself back, I'm just anxious. You should see my nails, I bite 'em a lot, just because I can't find anything else to focus all my energy on. I'm constantly shivering and nauseous and on the verge of falling apart, most of the times. You know, I'm like that suitcase that's so overpacked that just one lid cannot hold everything together. People seem to fail to understand that. And it consumes me, and I can't do anything except let it. I have to give in because the more I try to resist, the more I feel it. Constant ticks ring like silence in my head, making no noise but killing me with its loudness. It's a recoil, really, it just gets better and then suddenly out of nowhere, I'm back at square one. And these shadows, they control it. They make it happen. They coerce me to feel all these things. They trap me in a cage and they carry me around in the palm of their hands, vulnerable and feeble.

For a long, long time, I used to think I was the only one who felt this anxious. But with time, a great realisation has dawned upon me, that's everyone feels this. Everyone has a baggage, a past, a shadow. And the many people I see around me everyday, they're too trapped in their minds, maybe, and they're too controlled by their demons. Everyone has their shadows and maybe, just maybe, it's okay to hope that we'll be fine one day.

Peace.

I'm walking by the footpath. My hair falls over my face, so I tie it up in a bun. I'm depressed. My life makes no sense. I mean, I sure can pretend happy all day long, but nights have this power of bringing out the grief in me. I feel suffocated. I feel like I have nobody, like I need to get out of here. I need to get out of this life -- I feel like dying.

It's late, I've lost the track of time. There's nobody on the road, and it's started to rain. As the drops of rain fall over me, I feel like all that's accumulated in me is proliferating. It's like the rain is trying to embrace me in its arms, and I break down. I fall, and as I'm about to wipe my tears and get up, something hits me. Maybe it's a car, or a truck. Something big. My head's spinning and all I can see is blood - I'm soaked in it. My entire body aches, and I'm passing out because of the pain. My vision blurres more and more with every ticking second, and suddenly, all the pain ends.

I don't know how much time has passed. I wake up in a white room - naked. All the pain, all the despair, it seems like everything's just ended. I sit up and look at myself. There are no wounds, no blood. Not even a scratch. I look around, there's nothing in the room. No furniture, no bed, no television, it's just empty. The floor, the walls, the ceiling, it's all painted in white. And even though I should be freaking out, I'm surprisingly calm. I know where I am. I know this place.

I stand up and take a deep breath. I don't even feel sad anymore. It's like I'm all healed, mentally and physically. I touch the walls, I don't know why. Everything - it just feels right. There's no door to this room. I mean, there is, but someone coming here for the first time will never find it. It looks like there's just walls. There's no guessing. But I know where it is, I just know. This is my place. I walk towards the wall that's in front of me, and push the wall-like door. There's no handle to the door, not even a latch or something. It's just plain. Everything is plain here. I'm not even aware of my nakedness. That's just how I'm supposed to be at this place. That's weird, but somehow right.

As the door opens, a bright yellow light shines from the other end, piercing my eyes so hard as if they'd bleed. I wonder if this is what I'm thinking it is. I'm taking deep breaths as the light disappears. I look outside, and I'm now sure of where I am. This is my heaven.

I smile. As I take a few steps ahead, I can feel the sunlight on my bare skin, making me feel ecstatic. As far as I can see, there's just grass. It tickles my feet as I step on it. There are a few trees, but mostly there are flowers - all pink, yellow, red, orange. I am surrounded by just the nature. Far away, I see a cottage. The sky above the cottage is pink in colour, only the part above it. The rest of the sky is blue, just normal. Well, this isn't normal, though. I know that. But when have I ever adored normalcy? I have always wanted a fairytale, a bliss. I start walking towards the cottage, when my sight falls over a pond of water. I change my path towards the pond and as I reach there, I take a little water in my hand. Turns out the water's changed its colour from blue to pink, and it is sparkling, like someone has mixed glitter with it. I like it. I throw a handful of water in the sky, and all the little drops turn into birds that start chirping. I know that was going to happen, I've imagined it so many times. All of this, this place I'm in, it's all like I've imagined since my childhood. It's a part of my life I'd locked up inside, but I'm here now, and I realize this is where I have always wanted to be - a place that makes no sense, a place that's magic.

I again start walking towards the cottage, but a few steps later, I realize I cannot see the cottage anymore. I have landed in a forest, not a very dense one, but it's still a forest. The leaves of the trees are purple in colour, and as I take a leaf in my hand, it becomes an apple. I take a bite out of it, and keep walking. A little ahead, I meet a bear, and it's not a scary bear. I know him.

"You're finally here!" He exclaims.

"I am." I say, smiling and raising my eyebrows.

"I had thought you'd never be able to escape your reality. You did it." He says proudly.

"This... This is my reality." I say, "Everything else was fiction."

We smile and keep walking wherever the path leads us.

"All my life, I have been a shy person. I read and read, never liked people. I've lost innumerable people I've loved, and yet didn't find a single soul who loved me for me. I've always found peace in stories. This is where I used to want to come, when I wanted to escape the world." I admit.

"I know." He smiles.

He leads me to a river. I see that there's a boat on the bank.

"You coming?" I ask as I look behind me, but he's gone. A part of me wishes he'd have accompanied me, but I let go. This is a new ability I discover about myself. I can let go. I wonder why I couldn't let go of the things that hurt me in my life. I get into the boat and set out in the river, when a frog jumps in.

"Hey there!" He greets me.

"Hi. Can you tell me where this river leads to?" I ask him, my curiosity rising every moment.

"Haven't you figured out yet?" He counter questions me.

"What?" I look at him confused.

"This leads to wherever you want it to. This is your land, your imagination. You can do anything you want in here. You have the power. You have the magic. All you have to do is think where you want to be and snap your fingers." He tells me. I'm still confused.

"How do you know?" I ask him nervously.

"Because I'm you, silly. This place, its contents, it's all you." He says.

"But I met with an accident and woke up here. It makes no sense. Am I dreaming?"

"Oh my, you're really unaware. I don't know how to tell you-- okay, euphemistically speaking, you've passed away. You couldn't survive the accident. A part of you knows it." He says, and disappears.

He's right. I know I'm dead, this is definitely not a dream. It's just too perfect. I try the finger snapping thing he told me.

'The door,' I close my eyes and think, and snap my fingers. I'm magically transported back to the door of the white room, and I'm standing on its threshold.

All my life, I've been too afraid to live. I've suffered and suffered, and given too much, even to the wrong people, the ones who didn't deserve it. I never had the guts to be at liberty, I've always been scared of the future, never at peace. But maybe that's over now. Maybe finally, in death, I've found a place where I belong.

I look inside the room, all plain and white and empty, and I look out of the room, all cheerful and colourful and bright, and I now understand that's just who I am. Sometimes I'm the white room, awfully silent and empty and hollow, and sometimes I'm this vibrant person who's full of life and enthusiasm and love. I know this place, it represents me. Maybe this is my peace. When I was alive, I couldn't fly, had no wings - I was in my cocoon. But now, I'm at liberty. I've just left my cocoon and I'm ready to fly, even without wings. This is my heaven.

Traveller - Part Two

I look at him, as he's staring into the infinity, at the sight of the mountains and the sky meeting. He narrows his eyes and lets out a sigh.

"Mine isn't the story that'd make you think, or make you cry. I have no agonies. I've let everyone and everything go. I'm a happy man."

He actually does look happy. Peaceful. The man standing in front of me, all funky, is just something else. He has a lot of friends, I know. But of them, who knows him? Maybe everyone, maybe none.

"Okay, so tell me, what is the first thing that comes into your mind about your childhood?" I ask.

He closes his eyes, and a his lips curve into a million dollar smile. I wait for him to speak. I know he will.

"My old house. It was in the old part of the city. It is like one of those settlements of ancient times, where people would build huge bungalows, called the Waada's. It was a beautiful place, probably one of my favorites." His eyes light up like Christmas trees.
This person, who shows all flirty and funky to the world, is just a child inside. I smile.

"Yeah, I know." I say.

"It was a huge place, you know? There were all pillars, and so many rooms. And a hallway just right in front of the main door. Which reminds me of the main door, it was pretty big, too." I can see the trouble he has, explaining the details to me. I am just looking at him and smiling. This child needs to be heard.

"Whenever we had holidays, my cousins and I would have a lot of fun. We've played so much, we've troubled people so much, oh my God." He says.

"Okay." I say, unable to hide my smile yet. He's cute.

We say nothing for a while. I stand beside him, looking at the sun that is still nascent. There are fishermen in a boat, sailing far away. He clicks some pictures of them, while I just observe him. All the time.

"I was in fifth grade when I had my first crush." He says, rather declares. I chuckle.

"Fifth grade? Seriously?" I'm trying hard not to laugh.

"Yes, she was in my tuition classes. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. But I can't remember why she never liked me."

"Maybe she was busy learning the table of 13." I say, still giggling.

"Ha-ha." He fake laughs.

"What more?" I ask.

"I told you there's nothing hidden deep inside. I'm a shallow person. I'm just who I am. Straightforward, clear. You won't find anything in me that people write about. I'm just me." He says.

"I know. Everyone is worth writing about. Now tell me, what happens after your fifth grade crush?" I enquire, being a little serious this time.

"I don't quite remember. Fast forwarding to class 10th, I had this girl in my class, Tara. I don't know what it was that I felt for her was something that's just pure. In this world of selfishness and lust, she was like a dew. I liked her so much that I never dared to tell her how I felt. School ended, and we fell out of touch. But at the back of my mind, she's always there. A few years earlier, I came across her in college. She was still the same beautiful." He is smiling throughout his mini speech.

"O-kay." I can see he is transported back in time when he had this crush. He's looking past me, with a smile affixed to his lips. He's just nostalgic, and I'm seeing a different side of him today. This isn't the Bunny I know.

"I tried doing Engineering, but I didn't like it. So I dropped it. Did 10+2, then BBA."

"Your dropped engineering?" I ask, a little surprised.

"Yes, I didn't like it. What is the point in doing something where your heart isn't?" He counter questions me, leaving me speechless.

"Amidst all this, I've been a model, too. I was pretty good at it." He says mischievously.

"You've done a lot, haven't you?"

"If you say so." Irrelevant response.

We get back into the car, and bid adieu to the lakeshore. I don't speak much. It's his day of speaking.

I check the time, it's 10 am.

"You know, I believe in astrology. Once, I'd been to an astrologer, and he saw the alignment of planets, and told me that I'd become a legend one day." He says, driving.

"Oh, that's nice." I mumble.

"Not just that one astrologer, but quite a few have told this to me. It just makes my belief stronger. Also, I know a little astrology myself." He tells me.

"Wow, I am quite fascinated by this, but never really looked deep." I say, unsure of what to speak. I hope it's coherent.

"Yeah." He says absent-mindedly.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"To the church." He says.

Stay in touch, you guys. Traveller series is about someone who has recently had a great impact on my life. Not extraordinary, but everyone is worth writing about. And that's exactly what I am doing.
The last part coming soon. :)

Traveller - Part One

It is 7 o'clock in the morning, winter. I feel cold, and have sneezed a few times. He's late. Mindlessly, I call him once. He doesn't answer. I just keep sitting there, I have no other option anyway.

My fists are cold, so cold that I don't feel them - numb. Same with my feet. I really need him to come as soon as possible.

"Dude, you're coming or no?" I text him. Last seen today 1.06 am. I am afraid he's still sleeping.

It's 7.20 now, I am thinking of going back home and sleeping again. As I make up my mind to finally get back home, the screen of my phone flashes.

"Bunny calling." Finally.

He says he will be there in five minutes and hangs up. And he really comes in the said time.

I climb into his car and the first thing I see is that he's shivering. He's dressed in a white t-shirt, a blue jeans, paired with a black leather jacket. He's wearing a cap - black, too - with Bob Marley written on it, twisted on one side.
"You have been waiting in this cold?" He asks, with an expression on his face that I cannot comprehend.

"Yes." I say, not knowing what to say any further.

"It's so crisp. Interested in having tea?" He asks, still shivering.

"Uh- I don't drink tea. You have it though. You really seem to need it right now." I say after a little thought of I don't know what.
He drives to a nearby tea stall, and buys himself a steaming cup of tea. He gulps it down within the blink of an eye, and asks me where I want to go.

I am clueless, as I tell him that I have no idea, and that will be happy to accompany him anywhere he goes. I just want to talk to him.

He adjusts his cap and thinks for a moment. For the first time, I look at him attentively. His cap reveals a strand of his hair. He has mild traces of beard that covers his jawline, and his eyes are smaller than I thought they were. He rubs his hands over each other and asks me to hop into the car. I do.

I notice a camera on the backseat of his car. He's busy in driving and none of us says anything for a little while. The music is playing loud, and I realize none of us would be able to hear if the other one says anything. I stay quiet.

When the song ends, I ask him, "So are you ready?"

"Yeah!" He says, with enthusiasm filled in his voice.

We again fall silent.

I keep stealing glances at him, he is so immersed in mumbling the lyrics of the song he claims to love, while he says he's gonna track down the lyricist and tell him how much he loves the song and ask what inspires him to write and that how can someone write this good. I just keep listening to him.

All this time, I am firm on one belief. He is not what he shows. He hides more than anyone knows. I have to know him. I have to know him. A few times I have conversed with him, he has seemed pretty sapient. I want to know what lies behind that wisdom.

We reach a lakeshore. Getting out of the car, we face the lake and let the cold breezes tickle us. I'm nonchalant, while he's restless as always. He steps back and rests himself on the front of his car, and looks at me. I stand facing him, not knowing what to say, where to start from. There's so much to talk.

Bruised.

Nostalgia runs through my veins, as I open my old diary, 10 years old diary. My handwriting is beyond the capabilities of a person to understand, exaggeration intended. The year 2006 is written in bold letters on the first page, and my mind traces back to the time my Dad gave that diary to me for the first time.

It was an usual evening, I had just come home from my coaching classes. It had been a tiresome day, and I'd collapsed on the sofa, whilst I threw my bag on a chair nearby. The sofa had made a creaking sound, and everyone had laughed hysterically. Some time later, Dad had come to me to give me this diary he'd brought for me from his office. He knew I was fond of writing. I had been more than happy.

Today, as I run my fingers on that paper, I have a heavy heart. Nostalgia has really hit me hard. I turn the pages of the diary without reading it, smelling the old warmth that once had comforted me. It is like I found a long lost best friend. I come back to page one, my name scribbled on it with different inks. Remember the pen we used to have with four refills of four different colours? Yes, black, blue, green and red. And then at the end of the page I find a futile attempt of trying to use all the four refills at once. I smile. 

2nd January, 2006.
So daddy brought me this cool diary yesterday, but I'd been so tired that I slept without writing. But I will write today. First of all, here are my new year resolutions -
1. Lose weight.
2. Try to study more.
3. Write everyday.
Though I am not sure about the first one. But I have to. There's someone to impress. Wink.

I had been in class XI then, and as I read it today, I have a wide grin on my face. I feel good, reviving those moments through this diary. I breathe slowly, everything is calm right now. I laugh at my resolutions, lose weight. Though I know I didn't. And study more? Well, I am sure there is gonna be a note for that too. I turn the page, and it's just a drawing, mountains, sun setting over it, V-shaped birds flying and a river, and a house nearby. Cliché. I cannot stop smiling.

17th January, 2006.
Just felt like drawing. And hey, I draw pretty well. 
Well, I haven't yet started exercising, nor am I writing regularly. Doesn't matter, though. I'll try again next year.

4th February, 2006.
I am bruised. My left knee is injured. We were in school, on the playground, and there were XII class boys playing football. I was nowhere near them, but one of the guys suddenly came and fell on me. He was so immersed in running behind the ball that he didn't see such a huge me. Dumb. I am angry.

I remember how my knee had hurt for an entire week. I had cried so much. But now, I have my entire self bruised, but I don't cry. Maybe I have gotten used to it. I don't know what happened, but now I have forgotten what it is like to let things out just by crying. I carry a broken heart with me, but I just work fine. What has happened, why have I become so monotonous?

28th April, 2006.
I didn't write for the entire March month because I had my exams. And today was my result and I just scored 72%. Mom and Dad have not said anything to me but I know they are mad at me. I really will study hard the next year. I'll make you proud, Mumma Papa. I am sorry. I love you.

I suddenly realize that I haven't told my parents I loved them since long now. Why? I try to think hard for a reason but nothing comes up. I have gotten so busy with my life that I have forgotten that I have them, too. I wanted to make them proud, 10 years ago. But have I? I'm afraid not. This thought pricks me hard and my eyes well up, for the first time in ages. A silent drop of tear falls off, followed by another. But my smile, that still doesn't go.

6th May, 2006.
Our school has organised a trip! Yay! All my friends are gonna go, and I want to go too. I'll talk to Mumma Papa today. They won't refuse, I know. It will be so much fun! Trekking all the way through the mountains with friends, I'll take our camera with me. I'll click lots of photos. Yay. I am so excited! Life is so good.

It's been 10 years, and I now realize that the child inside me, who used to be all excited about things is now no more. I used to be so full of life. Where did things go wrong? I have grown up, yes, but does it mean that nothing is gonna excite and interest me, ever? No. This can't be it. I am missing something. 
And life is good? I haven't thought this thought since years now. Why aren't things okay? I have no answer.

19th August, 2006.
I'm sad today. Veera and I fought, that too over a guy! This is so not cool. Friends are meant to be forever. She knows I like Jay, and still she meets him secretly, without my knowledge? But she says he likes her too. So maybe I should just stay away? She apologized to me millions of times today, and I said it's okay. It really is. Just I am not.

I smirk. This was the first ever heartbreak I'd had. Veera was my best friend, and Jay, her now-husband. I had been sad for three months straight. I didn't talk to people, didn't hang out with them on the playground like I used to, stayed away from them. But I'd healed. I'd let go. I'd forgiven her. Why can't I do that now? Have I lost the ability to forgive and let things go? Maybe yes. The world is a cruel place. 

I have written no more. I wish I had, except for the 'Byebye 2006' written on the page of 31st December. Re-living those feelings and no matter what, not being able to feel the same things today tears me apart from inside. Not being able to be the person I was some years ago makes me feel helpless. Things came into way, good or bad, and it is because of them that I am how I am today. By no means I wish to change those events, I just wish to change myself, to get back to who I was. I feel distant from my own self. And I can't help it. I'd been wounded. I'd even healed. But the scars remain. And they ache. Maybe I am bruised, for ever.

Your Stories - Do you?

Do you think and rethink about the things you said and the things you did, even though the moment's gone now? Do you love too much, try too hard to have what's never meant to be yours? Do you love to watch the moon and stars lying on the grass, that pricks you, but you don't care? Do you love trying to count the stars, knowing you can never get enough of it? Do you snooze alarm at least once before you wake up, just to complete that dream where she was yours? Do you think that any time is coffee time, even though you just had it fifteen minutes ago? Do you like walking on the lonely, empty streets late at night, just to feel the breezes against your skin, because it is soothing? Do you love the late night talks with that one particular person, oblivious of what it means to them? Do you love when your loved ones hug you without any reason, and you feel immensely good? Do you love reading books, and have that one fictional character that means the world to you? Do you treasure your relations the most, even when you know that no one is permanent in a temporary world? Hell yeah, do you love food, and cannot control your inner child when you see chocolates? Do you love walking in the rain, just because it satisfies you in a weird and incomprehensibly bizzare way? Do you not like goodbyes, because they're too painful? Do you not prefer lying, because you know what it feels to be lied to? Do you regret the mistakes that you have and haven't committed because no matter what it was, it has hurt you inevitably? Do you find it tough express yourself, so you use a paper and pen to cast your agony into written word? Do you love listening to music 24*7, just because they voice the feelings you cannot convey? Do you love listening to a particular song over and over again and sing aloud at the top notch of your voice as the lyrics take you over? Do you love to laugh until your stomach hurts, because that is the moment when you zone out of all the things that you worry about? Do you want to fight for what you want, but just can't, because you are a shy, litte creature wrapped up in layers that are soon gonna tangle around your neck?  Do you love watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S, because maybe that is the only bright thing in your dark life? Do you love reading stuff like this, and if whilst reading this, you got a smile on your face, well, then I have one thing to say - People like us need to stick together. Because, I do, too.

Note -
Your Stories is a special feature chain of posts, written by a friend, who doesn't want his name to be disclosed, and edited by myself. There's much more interesting stuff coming up. Stay tuned.