I'm Story Mashing!

I came across an interesting website, StoryMash - a creative writing community for authors, amateur writers, readers and anyone interested in collaborative fiction and collaborative creative writing (that's what the website says).

Basically, anyone can register on this site and write up new chapters of a story or add chapters to an existing story. It’s a very interesting concept and has me hooked. There are some really good stories out there and because it is collaborative, each story has several twists and turns. Some chapters have 5-6 different branches and each of them is different and very interesting. They even have regular contests going on, which only adds to the fun!

You don't need to register to read the stories. But, you do need to register to contribute your own stories. Well, obviously I registered. I haven’t joined the current contest yet. But, yes, I did write up the first chapter for a new story called “Happy New Year!”.

It’s not great…I wrote it up and published it in less than a day. But, I wanted to see how it works. The added advantage was that I don’t have to think about how it will progress or end right now. Maybe someone will pick it up and continue, maybe someday I’ll do it myself, maybe it will never get completed. But, I have to say that I had great fun doing this. Now, I think I’m going to take a shot at that contest too. So, wish me luck!

Sadly, "We are like this only."

Why does no one, well almost no one, let an ambulance pass first? I've seen too many instances of too many people, casually going at their own sweet pace when an ambulance right behind them is desperately blaring its siren. Are people really so callous that they don't care about the poor soul in the ambulance fighting for his or her life? Do they ever stop to think that one day it could be them or their family in the ambulance, and it could be their life at risk because someone in a vehicle decided their life wasn't worth saving?

Once, in one of the 'gullies' of Mumbai, an ambulance was blaring its siren about 3 cars behind us. My husband pulled over to the side to let it pass, and at least 5 other cars took that opportunity to overtake us AND the ambulance. They probably thought we were idiots to have pulled over.

The "problem" with us I guess is that we spent some time in the US where all cars on any road would stop as soon as they heard a siren. The signals there are tied to the paramedics center or something, and they automatically go on the blink to let everyone know that they should stop. But, its not just at the signals, even in the bylanes everyone will slow down or stop to let an emergency vehicle pass. Maybe that's because it is the law there. But, will it work if we had a similar law here? Somehow, I don't really think so.

It Started on a Monday

It started on a Monday- the series of events that changed my life. I always hated Mondays…breaking the bliss of a wonderful weekend! So I guess it was fate that this happened on a Monday.

I was driving to work pondering over something someone had said to me, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. I’d just reached a traffic signal and was about to turn right when the car in front of me suddenly exploded. I just sat there in shock for a minute. There were flames all around. I heard some screams in the distance and then there were sirens- screaming, insistent sirens. They just went on and on and on...I wanted to scream at them to shut up but I couldn't…I just sat there, as if paralyzed. I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder and then there was blackness.

I opened my eyes in a white room. Everything was white, the curtains, the wall paint, the bed I was lying on, everything. It was like a scene right out of a movie. I must be dreaming I thought. Everything was just so unreal!

Then it all came flooding to me, the blast, the flames, the noise. I figured I must be in a hospital. But, honestly, I’d never actually seen a white room! Maybe I’d died and gone to heaven. Though, with my life I could’ve sworn I should be in hell!

I couldn't do much but wait. So, I waited…in that white, silent room. That was the other thing that was getting to me...the quietness, the complete silence.

I tried getting up once. The searing pain through my entire body had me falling back in no time. I didn’t dare to attempt it again.

After what seemed like hours to me, a door at the end of the room opened. A lady entered, dressed in a powder blue nurse’s uniform...that small hint of color made me want to shout in joy! But then I noticed her face. It was completely covered with some kind of mask and I could hardly make out her eyes. She was carrying a medicine tray in her gloved hands .

As she walked towards me slowly, tentatively, it started to worry me. I realized something must be terribly wrong for a nurse to behave like this. As she came closer, her eyes widened with the realization that I was awake. She almost jumped, kept the tray on a table next to me, and ran to get a doctor.

In less than a minute, a doctor arrived. She too had her face covered. But, thankfully, she didn’t seem afraid of me. She came towards me and smiled. The smile had relief, sympathy, concern, and a number of other emotions I couldn’t quite understand. But, the one thing I knew was that it had to be bad news.

I opened my mouth to ask her what was wrong and realized to my horror that I couldn’t speak! I tried again but no voice came out. I tried raising my hand and the same searing pain shot through me. The doctor placed her gloved hand on me and explained everything.

The car explosion at the signal had been a bomb blast. 100 people had been killed. It was a miracle that I was alive. They’d found me 100 meters away from the site. It seemed that I had been thrown away by the impact. My car had been destroyed completely. I had been in a coma for almost a month.

And then came an even bitter truth. I had almost 80 percent burns on my body. My skin was charred. I couldn’t speak because my mouth, my tongue, and my throat were all burnt. Now, I understood why the nurse was hesitant in approaching me...I must look horrendous. I was being kept in a sterile, isolated room to prevent any infection from spreading. That explained the white I guess.

The doctor examined me and seemed satisfied. She said she expected a fast recovery and assured me that with skin grafting and other modern techniques, they’ll have me looking as good as new in a year’s time. A year is a long time I thought and saw all my dreams coming crashing down.

I saw all the money I’d saved for my boutique going into the treatment. My mom would have to continue working instead of taking the early retirement we’d planned. We’d have to delay buying the dream home we’d finally found. It had been my father’s dream, my boutique and the home. He’d passed away last year. We’d managed to get a grip on our lives and move on.

But, now it looked like an even greater struggle had begun. I began to wonder if it would’ve been better if I’d died in the blast instead of surviving like this, if I’d been in the car instead of being thrown out of death’s way. That’s when it came back to me- the blast. I remembered the explosion, the blinding flash of light, heat, and sound. I didn’t remember being blown away…I remembered the hand on my shoulder, someone leading me away from the car as the flames came closer and the sirens grew louder, before complete blackness descended. I’d heard about guardian angels, could it have been an angel then who saved me? The hand had felt familiar…like one I’d known all my life...could it have been him? Ensuring that I live on to fulfill his dreams?

The doctor was still at my bedside. I looked at the calendar on the opposite wall and tried to ask her with my eyes what date it was. She understood and said January 4th. I looked at the calendar. It was a Monday. The day my new life began.