Ginger drafts...

Johnny walked among the wild shrubbery, forcing his tread through the grimy growth of the forest, weeds and earth crumbs clogged his way, tall trees with paucity of leaves left him vulnerable, he bathed in sun, heat suffused through him, dried him of his occupations, he could not walk anymore, he had to drink water. The rocky surface ahead offered no hope, but he persevered, for he had to see his humane task to completion. He stepped over a rock here, a rock there, over a tree trunk, slipped through the arches of dark mahogany trees, he proceeded as a warrior, who rode on a beautiful white horse to the battle field with shears, arrows, bow, helmet, each of which are presented to him by his people, who expect him to win, no matter what, warrior then fought with thousand hands, with winning on his mind, with the aim of killing in his blood. All his life, he had been waiting for this moment; he read stories in his life, of different people, of their countenances, of their inclinations. St

Sun beat on the creamy white cloth spread over the table, leaves spread ubiquitously on two tall trees overhead hid the delicacy underneath them, letting the sun visit it, every now and then, making shadows that floated over the table cloth. Breeze pushed the shadows rhythmically, dry leaves rattled away hither and thither, so precious was the moment for Vanessa. She checked the turf, stood her sleek legged chair over it and sat herself grandly, preoccupied with the moment's liberty. Swan dipped its wings in the pool before her, mercifully fluttered its wings, a school of fish swam dutifully around the perimeter of the pool, glistened and reflected steels of sunlight underwater, the rich sediment bosomed smooth pebbles that augmented the rich colors-blue, green and yellow fish rollicking above. Swan's fluttering rippled around, flowed in waves, ebbed and rose, broke on the turf over a dark brown rock pushing a frog back, which tumbled into the pool with the retreating wave, and

Marcus was young once, there was a time, a world that existed, in which he was young, but he jumped into the successive worlds every other moment, it never occurred to him that he did not have a choice, but only the prospect of choice. He dreamt of more vibrant days, where he would dance with a vivacious young lady, where he would earn a lot, and be respected. This coaxed him into taking giant leaps, into interconnected worlds; from where there was no return, the way ahead was the only way. The choice of living in the current world was never there, for the current world existed only as long as the senses captured their individual images of the world outside, put together in mind, they all created in unison, a virtual world. He was never able to tell, if the world he lived in, was the same as the virtual projection inside his mind, it felt real, the smells, the sounds, the light, everything was on the outside, everything was relayed into his mind by his senses, and the virtual world was

Car swerved round the corner, came to a screeching halt, and a man got down, well built, tall, looked elegant to an exotic degree in his tailored business suit. He walked past a couple of vivacious young women, must be in their teens, they stood there in shocking defiance that the man should ignore their presence, what really irked them was, the man walked straight into the building and seemed very inclined to converse with the young lady in jeans behind them. Vanessa consulted her watch, gave him the directions, watched as he left. 'He must have robbed me of my impulses', she thought. As for her belated response, he did not mind, together they proceeded to the conference hall. Dave ran her up the details of the conference, as they walked down the pavement, heading to the cafe at the end of the street. He was animated in his expressions, took a pause before making a contention, drew back a little, and would look into the farthest corners of the street as if to gather his though

Only the sound of river running beside her, water trying to creep into the crevices of rocks, the undulating waves beat the rock scaffolding, some crevices sucked in the import, while others vanquished. Vanessa lingered heavily with the weight of uncertainty, the morning fog kissed her lips, dried and wetted at the same time, obfuscated her vision, hugged her in entirety, not letting her go away. She loved it, the pleasant and chilled weather benumbed her, her breast heaved under the hugging pressure, only the troubled sensation remained, the cold must have devoured her feet. Her arms, she stretched them wide, now they were gone too, here they come again, she thought, as she locked her hands together before her, it must be the fog. She took a step forward, was it forward, for there was no ground beneath her feet. A burst! She blenched with fear, stepped back, but oh! wait, where does the ground behind her end before she would finally slip into a horrible fall. Another burst, this one w

Ursula watched her nape in the giant mirrors, one overseeing the other. She was fond of her nape, the ubiquities of hair suddenly pausing at the nape, not prepared to spoil the smoothness ahead, curled back upwards. The beginning of her nape marked a point of deference, attracted reverence and the hair flew backwards like waves on the shore. Less intense, thin and listless loose ends of short hair fell on her nape beautifying it beyond the limits of ecstasy. She bent her head forwards, brushed her hair upwards from over her nape, it was the skin in its prime, and nothing could come close to it. Her long neck embellished the nape; air from the fan pushed the short hair over the nape to fly over it, titillating her nape, brushing it, caressing it, and loving it. Her spine running upwards submitted before the beauty, it could not proceed any further, the rugged and crude bony frame prostrated before the queen of the structure, and the queen blushed, accepted the affirmation, and let the f