The lovely Nobleman Warrior tagged me to do this challenge. There are a few rules:

  • 150 word limit
  • Write a piece of historical fiction or poetry about the photo
  • Try not to use the words tree & green
  • Tag 3 people to do the same with the photo

I tag – whoever wants to do this.

It was six in the morning. Still pouring. We were supposed to go see the Angkor Wat temples. When you’re backpacking across the globe, you need to be prepared for a lot of crap. Things get difficult before they get better.

I was a medical doctor, at least used to be. Eventually, I’d gotten tired of human suffering. Hence, the trip.

The rain finally stopped and we started exploring. Something stung me between the toes, I overlooked it. By the time we’d reached the heart of the temples, I couldn’t feel my foot anymore. Took my shoe off to realize that my leg had started necrosing. Strange, because it only felt like a few minutes since the sting.

Now it seems funny to me, how we amputated my leg right there in the temples that they supposedly used for funerals – but we cut off my leg to save my life.

(Word count: 150.)



We have a lot of history. A lot of water under the bridge. Things got ugly, and things got toxic and we left without saying goodbye. Sometimes when I’m with him, I feel lucky that it was him I married, and not you, because truth is, you’re intimidating and I was scared of you. Still am. I don’t know how much I’ve to hide from you, or pretend that I don’t give a damn, when in reality, you’re constantly at the back of my mind.

I don’t let myself be happy. It’s gotten to the point that I’ve gone ahead and given myself a rather bad case of cherophobia. When I hide in my therapist’s office and cry to her every Saturday afternoon, I feel the guilt consume me and consume me good. Nobody knows I’m seeing a therapist to shake off my nightmares that surround you. Nobody knows that every nightmare I wake up, has something to do with you.

He said he thought he’d lost me the other day. That I was strangling myself in my sheets, when the truth is, it was you, in my sleep, in my head, clawing at me. I can’t let go. I can’t seem to be happy. This constant fear that you’d harm me, is always with me. You’d misunderstood me so much the last time we spoke, a few years ago. You called me a bigot, you said I was a gold-digger and that I played victim because I loved the attention. You never knew that I’ve always supported the truth, and the good, and I’ve never hurt anybody. You made me seem like this monster and I don’t know why I let this eat me up inside. That you’d given me no room to explain my side of things. You went ahead and you dissected me. Called my dad the unthinkable names. Said I was a selfish cow. I swallowed the pain. I don’t know why I would let any of that bother me even now. I have a two year old and I’m supposed to have moved on from you. But no.

Turns out, you can’t move on from things that have so much intensity. Not when the stuff you’re trying to move on from was both unhealthy and satisfying.

Turns out, you were my Kryptonite and I never saw that coming.


This would be the first time for Millie:

Going to India, visiting family.

She was a precocious child, twelve years old

Eyes like sapphires, hair like gold

Spoilt rotten, with makeup and iPhone,

And walk-in closets, and a lavish home

Bratty little Millie always got what she wanted

Her wealth was something she’d always flaunted

Her mother came to her one day

Beaming she said, “Your cousin is getting married this Friday!”

And Millie’s face fell and she started to pout

Summer had started and she didn’t want to miss out

“But I’ve got camp, Mum, I can’t skip!”

Her mother reassured her that India was worth the trip

Finally, oh finally did Millie agree

And Wednesday afternoon, they landed in Delhi.

The heat was too much for poor Millie

She started screaming, “WHAT HAPPENED TO THE AC?”

Nothing seemed to be calming Millie down

Her mother was worried and started to frown

The tension in the Porsche started building up

Then, to add fuel to the fire, the traffic froze up.

Millie thought she would have a tantrum for sure

And then they all heard a soft tapping on the window.

A little girl, about Millie’s age, selling flowers for money

She had a ragged dress on, her nose seemed runny

And yet she seemed so at peace and she seemed so happy

Clean heart, despite the exterior that looked shaggy

Millie’s eyes widened, and she suddenly realized a lot

The little girl’s flowers? They bought the whole stock.


Like I mentioned in the post I did about hipster reading, people love the idea of intelligence – which is why this whole trend is a thing. Which is why nerd glasses and people with broody, quiet personalities that are enigmatic to boot, are considered super attractive. Because intelligence is – for the lack of a better word – hot.

Ever noticed how many people seem to claim that they’re sapiosexual? This post will help decide whether you’re one of them or not.

• For starters, does the imperfect usage of grammar make you wrinkle your nose and go ew, no in your head before you’ve even had a long conversation with someone? Do you hate things like the Stan culture and the Cancel culture? Have you ever randomly stopped texting someone back because they said I didn’t knew that because somehow your brains decided that this person didn’t deserve any more chances? This makes you a full-blown Grammar Nazi, by the way. In addition to being sapiosexual. Oh yeah.

Do you salivate like a patient at the dentist’s who’s gone in for a root canal surgery and has no control over their mouth anymore, when your partner talks about a topic like they happen to be passionate and a complete pro at it? And specially if they start talking about YOUR field of work? And with so much love that it’s super unexpected? Bear started talking about diets and biochemistry and chain reactions – out of the blue – just the other day. And he kept talking for ten whole minutes and I kept staring at him till he got uncomfortable. I mean, I couldn’t help it – he’s so sexy when he talks about stuff that I dabble in. Sigh. So hot.

• Do you prefer to watch car documentaries or something educational, instead of doing the Devil’s Tango, when alone with your partner? If you’re someone that can talk at length about books or the weather or technology, and would prefer to go into a cafe with your partner, instead of bunny romping, oh hello, sapiosexual.

• Do you hate making small talk, and don’t like people that text you to ask how you’re doing and if you’ve had lunch? Would you rather block that person and move on? Would you rather just avoid them altogether because you know you simply cannot be someone that goes hey, how you doing, bye, bye? Yep, sapiosexual.

• And lastly, is your circle really small? If you’re someone that has a a handful of friends, and don’t socialize much and find most people stupid and would prefer to keep it that way, hey there, sapiosexual. Although, this could also mean you’re suffering from social anxiety and you desperately want to see a shrink but you’re super terrified to drive down to Doctor Jung’s alone.


Do you remember our first date? I do. It was super warm, even for October. I remember how I’d left in a rush, and that I’d given myself a nice little bruise on my thumb from trying to get out the door real fast.

You see, I hated to keep you waiting. And I did manage to get there in time. With literally five whole minutes to spare. I was so proud of myself. It wasn’t much, for a first date, but we both decided on a dinner and a drive because we wanted to talk and get to know each other better.

You said hello and we were both so awkward, but only at first. You, you gorgeous man, you were so good at breaking the ice and making me feel comfortable, my paranoid heart decided against reaching for the pepper spray when you held my hand in the restaurant, for the very first time. Yes, I did carry pepper spray in my little clutch. Dad insisted I bring the taser, but I didn’t. You should be thankful. Ahahaha.

I’m so glad to this day, that you picked the corner booth – it was both cosy and cute. And you didn’t judge me when I ate too much chocolate mousse and got it all over my face. You laughed and said I was adorable.

I can’t believe you actually remembered my birthday even though we’d only officially met the other week. We got super late, and it was getting close to midnight and strangely enough, I didn’t even panic. You excused yourself and stopped the car and got out randomly and I thought, of course there’s a catch and he can’t be that perfect, so I guess he’s going to hurt me now, but no it was you with a cake and candles and balloons shaped like hearts and my Dad and Mum on FaceTime on your phone, all of you singing happy birthday. My heart stopped then. I remember all my fears washing away and thinking to myself, who said arranged marriages aren’t romantic, and the rest of the night passed by in a happy blur.

The connection our hearts made that night, and the way things turned out, oh it was meant to be. And now here we are, two hearts united and happy.

PS: This was based on a friend’s “arranged marriage” story.

The practice is quite common in India, for those of you that don’t know, and people seem to be okay with it. Although there are a million horror stories of failed or unhappy arranged marriages, there are some like the one I just told you, and it’s so heartwarming, you know? Do you know of anyone that had an arranged marriage and is extremely happy? Tell me about it.


I’ve been sitting in the exact same spot, trying to come up with something solid to post about. And I’ve been drawing blanks. I’m supposed to talk about gratitude today, and to be honest, it’s overwhelmingly hard. I’m sure Jamie/Shih Tzu is going to do wonderfully well today, he’s brilliant with his stories, but what do I talk about? Yikes. It’s also World Health day today, and I wanted to talk about stuff.

So the LOML (I’m trying to be fancy because I don’t wanna say Bear’s name) picked the word of the day. And the first thing that comes to my mind when I actually think about it? Him. I know I’ve ranted a lot on my blog, and will continue to do so, but if I’d to be thankful and grateful for something, it would have to be him. All the fiction that’s loosely based on real events aside, he’s my truth and he’s amazing. How many times have we taken the time to be actually thankful and feel blessed to be given all that we’ve been given? Not many. We mostly all just complain and compare and feel the need to drown ourselves in FOMO. Not cool, you guys.

Every time you feel bad, or wish you had a better life, you need to step back and remind yourself that there are people that wish they’d been in your shoes. Emilia Clarke had brain aneurysms but she never complained, and she’s one of the most successful actors of our time. If she’s never found reasons to be miserable, why should any of us be that way, right?

I’m thankful, honestly.

I could have died in that motorcycle accident in 2015: I didn’t. I’m okay, I’m doing great and everything is moving in the right direction. There’s no family feud, there’s no drama and there are no crunches. Done my share of traveling and spending time with my family. Made (and still making) memories. Went from being bratty to super nice and I feel myself evolving into a better person. Love front? Going great. Still paranoid about posting about it on the Gram, or on Twitter: can’t shake off the feeling that something bad might happen or someone might jinx it. Yikes. But I’m so grateful. You listen to the Ariana Grande songs about things and you realize that everything in your life has been a learning lesson. So yes, grateful.

What are you grateful for?


It’s 3 in the morning. Why did I watch The Conjuring all by myself? I’ve to pee. Should I wake him up? He’s fast asleep, I’ve never seen him look so relaxed. Wait, is that a frown on his forehead? What’s happening?

Is he going to talk in his sleep?

This is creepy. I really do have to pee. Why did I drink so many margaritas? It’s not good for my new fancy die…… what was that? ….t. I think I should wake him up. I mean, what are husbands for, if not to accompany you to the loo when you’re scared out of your wits? What is that tapping noise?

I look around trying to find my phone. I gotta turn on the lamp on the nightstand. Argh, this stupid damn bladder. Welp. Ah there we go. This lamp needs to be closer to me.

He’s smiling in his sleep. It’s good. The smile is growing wider. Ooh, good. Must be thinking about his football team winning earlier. Why am I watching him like a total freak? Let me look closer. I want to touch his hair. It calms me down. I love how smooth his forehead looks. Zero traces of stress. I smile to myself and run my fingers though his hair. He’s so cold. Smells funny. How does he suddenly smell funny? What is up with tonight. It’s still three in the morning? I’ve been doing all this talking and time hasn’t moved? Strange. Let me go pee. Argh.

Aw, look he just grabbed my hand.

He’s saying something. He’s so cold. His neck creaks slightly as he turns his face towards me, and his eyes are tightly open wide and I’ve never seen him look so… evil. That sinister smile seemed to have gotten even more sinister. What’s happening?

I’m frozen.

He lets go, and then grabs my neck with both hands. Those hands. So cold. Almost as if they belonged to a dead person. I can’t move. He’s choking me. He’s choking me. I can’t talk, I start to slip, I can’t scream. I’m frozen within the sheets.

The NEXT day:

What a bright morning. Mm. My neck hurts. My back is cramping. And he’s sitting in a chair looking at me like he’s seen a ghost. I get out of bed and go hug him and ask him if he’s okay.

He’s got tears in his eyes. My man, crying. I’ve seen him cry only once before. His grandma passed and he was inconsolable, but that was a good decade ago. He holds me tight, it feels good. Finally he tells me.

“You were strangling yourself in your sleep last night, I thought I’d lost you.”

I can’t remember any of it.


Sleep paralysis is real. Nyctophobia is real. Sometimes fear manifests in the strangest of ways. What’s your biggest fear? Or paranoia? How do you control it?