She had chaos inside her head, a cacophony of muddled up thoughts. Her knees felt weak. She sat down on the rug which was still wet from the spilled wine. The splintered glass hurt her, causing blood to ooze out of her fingers. This red wine got mixed with that on the rug. Her thoughts made their way back to Alaska and her labyrinth. She was unsure if Alaska was right in going "straight and fast", but the idea of skipping the labyrinth was enticing. She desired to escape, run from the torment that had been inflicted into her. She wanted to draw the curtains, once and for all. Yet, in the cacophony of muddled up thoughts, there was one voice. Clear and loud. One she couldn't evade if she wanted to. She didn't know whose it was, but it wasn't hers. It couldn't be hers. "There's light at the end of the tunnel" said it, "there's a new hope when one dies. The way out of the labyrinth that you've been looking for, is HOPE, for hope reigns all."

Tiptoed down the stairway, The night was murky, a cursed moonless one. The chill air brought a clank from close by But I disdained to wince. Sounds at mignight could no longer affright me. It's about time, I wondered. I knew 'twas about time. I pulled the knife out from under my robe. How long has it been there? Perhaps since I decided to end it all, To end my star-crossed life. I walk to the mirror, the canvas where they paint beauty. One last look at my vile face. Hoped that it'd look dainty at this final moment. It did not. What I saw standing was a corpse. My corpse. I knew then, death's been my guest long back. I yet breathed, but I did not live. So how do you kill a corpse? I tiptoed back up the stairway. Laid down on the rug, slumber didn't take long to call on. This corpse would wake up again the next dawn.

তুমি যোৱাৰ বহু সময় পাৰ হৈ গ'ল সময় বাগৰাৰ লগে লগে বহু বস্তুও সলনি হ'ল | নাহৰ জোপাৰ তলত যে আমি খেলিছিলো, সেই জোপা এতিয়া আৰু নাই মানুহৰ মনবোৰো আৰু আগৰ দৰে হৈ থকা নাই | পদূলি মুখত তোমালৈ ৰৈ ৰৈ মোৰ মনো আজি ক্লান্ত| আশা, আশা বোলে মানুহে কৰিব লাগে কিন্তু আশাৰ প্ৰত্যুত্তৰত মই পাওঁ মাথোন্ মোৰ নিজৰে হুমুনিয়াহ | বহু ঋতু পাৰ হ'ল, তুমি নাহিলা | মোলৈ বুলি চিঠি এখন লিখিবলৈও তোমাৰ আহৰি নহ'ল | তুমিবিহীন বহু বহাগৰ দৰে এইবাৰৰ বহাগেও মোলৈ ৰং কঢ়িয়াই নানে, মাথোন্ আনিব পুৰণি স্মৃতিবোৰ | তুমি আৰু নাহা, জানোঁ | আৰু আহিলেও জানো সেই ফুটবল খেলি ধূলিত লুটুৰি পুটুৰি হোৱা ল'ৰাজন হৈ আহিবা? আৰু ময়ো জানো খিৰিকিৰে জুমি চোৱা সেই একেজনী ছোৱালী হৈ আছোঁ? সকলোবোৰ সলনি হৈ গ'ল তুমি তুমি হৈ নাই আৰু ময়ো হয়তো মই হৈ নাই | মাথোন্ তোমাৰ বাবে মোৰ ভালপোৱাবোৰ একেই হৈ ৰ'ল, একেই হৈ ৰ'ব | @কৰণিকা কাশ্যপ

'Twas that time of the year again When the moor was smothered with a blanket of vampire-white snow. The mangling winds flayed the trees outside And the fire inside felt like melted butter on the dermis. The pale crescent of winter hung solus in the gravel-grey sky. Minuscule drops of dew rested on the leaves, Perhaps jaded from their odyssey to the Earth. 'Twas that time of the year again, When children awaited the chipmunk-cheeked man on a reindeer sleigh. Odours of roasted chestnuts mildly caressed the nose. 'Twas that time of the year again, 'Twas wintertide again. #napowrimo #day30

'Twas that time of the year again When the moor was smothered with a blanket of vampire-white snow. The magling winds flayed the trees outside And the fire inside felt like melted butter on the dermis. The pale crescent of winter hung solus in the gravel-grey sky. Minuscule drops of dew rested on the leaves, Perhaps jaded from their odyssey to the Earth. 'Twas that time of the year again, When children awaited the chipmunk-cheeked man on a reindeer sleigh. Odours of roasted chestnuts mildly caressed the nose. 'Twas that time of the year again, 'Twas wintertide again. #napowrimo #day30

'Twas a new moon night, murky and overcast. I laid awake on the bedspread, Oblivious to time. 'Twas perhaps just past the witching hour, perhaps. The lights were out, Giving an inky hue to all that surrounded me. I heard a sound from the doorway, footsteps. With each ticking of the timepiece, they got nearer. With a single glim held firmly, I moved towards the door. I descried a shadow on the floor And then I see the figure, that of a girl. She was younger than I, wore a ivory dress with scarlet stripes. I knew her at first sight, she was me, Me from the foregone. I saw something in her eyes, apart from the redness, A desire, desperate one. A desire to be wanted. I stretched my arm, intending to feel her. But she evanesced and all that surrounded me whirled. I sat upright, drenched in perspiration. I sighed for 'twas a nighmare. I was gingerly drowning into a slumber When I heard it, footsteps, real that once. #napowrimo

Have you ever eyed a derelict toddler? He lacks a dwelling and is mostly famished. No proper garments has he Nor proper shoes. Slumbers he on the rugged walkway No rug to cover. Yet, yet his giggles rent the air, As he merrily runs on the sidewalk. What has he to be so blithe? I wonder. What has he that I do not? It is then when I fathom out, That euphoria bides within us For what e have this day, Might be gone with the wind by and by. But the ecstasy within shall abide. #napowrimo #day28

Dead and buried are those days When they endeavoured to untether the populace, Laid down their dearest lives to unfetter us from the seize of the non-natives. I hark back to the fables I heard in childhood, Tales of fortitude, Tales of how they extricated this land. Gone are those days now, Dead and buried under several blankets of the Earth. We stand unchained this day, Yet behind bars of prejudice. Their own tussles fail to cease, While we feel at sea. Oh, where are those days when it was by, for and of us? Mayhap long gone, Dead and buried under several blankets of the Earth. #napowrimo #day27

A brother's sister and a son's progenitress. She's beyond that. She's an abstraction you'd fail to fathom, A reverie you'd wish to never cease. She'll be by you, Yet you cannot have her For she's unshackled. She desires you, she does Yet she does not require you. And she'll walk away once she's not revered. She's beyond what she seems, She's the giver of life, she's life herself. She's more than just her. She's entirety. #napowrimo #day26

It is I who speak O' mortals, Death. I come not to lay hold of your soul, But that of humanity. For humanity has deceased aeons ago. It grieves me, Oh, can you surmise, it grieves Death to call on a world without humanity? I see mortal hands taking lives and wonder If the globe yet requires me. (For it is I who take lives, is it not?) I take humanity's soul in my arms, How desolate it seems! Do you hear me, O' mortals? Do you hear death? I go now, But I shall return, For your souls next, For humanity's slayers' souls. #napowrimo #day25

'Twas a heather- purple night, The moonwashed sky of Summer. The grass, a rich verdant green, was wet with the shower that had just passed. A pungent odour of the salty ocean rent the air. In the distance, grasshoppers carolled merrily, Only to rue when winter came along. Stars glinted hither and thither, an ocean of scattered space dust. I sat on the porch, unshoed, And gazed at the heather- purple sky of Summer. "This too shall end" sighed I. #napowrimo #day24

A charming young gentleman, Dwelled alone in his abode. Did the chores at night and slept in daytime, never stepped out. No friends had he nor a family, And apparently, never had a visitor. One fine dusk, he heard a knock on the door "A guest!" cried he. 'Twas an enchanting lady, he invited her in. Oh, but why wouldn't he? Talked they for hours on end, till the sun was nearing the horizon. "Can you get some wine?" asked she, And would he refuse? Off he sprinted and returned with two glasses, But the lady was gone, the door still bolted from inside. Wondered he for hours, how the lady had moved out, For the door was locked and there were no windows. And then it struck, he was the last man on Earth. So you tell me, who was the lady? #napowrimo #day23

There was an orb which once was cleped Earth, She wore a virescent and azure raiment. The imperatrix of all, she birthed the vendure and the brute. She birthed man at last, the most callous of them all. Ran contraptions on her and ripped off her apparel. She died at last, wounded to her last breathe, Thus was the demise of all men and brute and vendure. Aeons hence, there'd perhaps be another orb, She too shall be cleped Earth, Oh, yet she shall not birth man. #napowrimo #day22

Ask me where I wish to be inhumed after I depart this life, And I'd tell you I wish it to be a tranquil place. But don't question me where my tranquil dwelling is, for I don't know. I don't know if peace is in a world without bloodshed Or in a world without dolour. From cradle to grave I pined to know where serenity bides, If it is in the hushed woods or in the flowing water. So inhume me where you think peace is, for I've failed to unearth the key to that query. Inhume me in a world without bloodshed or one without dolour. And if there's no place as such, Inhume me in your heart. #napowrimo

Red — hue of love, yet abhorred when it's on her raiment. Blood — epitomizes gallantry until it's hers. "Daag acche hain" until it's her stains. Oh, she shrieks in ache and you lend her your unhearing ears There're a gazillion daggers impaled into her abdomen and you dare clepe her frail. That she bleeds is why you're yet extant. The scarlet stains bear tokens of her endurance, tokens she's carried for an aeon. Oh, she bleeds, yes But it's not an abomination. #napowrimo #day20

I would have transcribed you an epistle of my unrivalled love for you Would have written that I need you the way a lost mariner needs the Polaris But this is not a letter of love, for you'd deem those words spurious And why wouldn't you? What have I done yet to evince my endearment for you? So I transcribe you an epistle, one that has my apology. I rue for the myriad nights of ache I put you through, Rue for the tears you've shed unchaperoned, tears I didn't wipe. I implore your pardon for the times I spurned your pleas. I leave them behind now, And set off for an odyssey of love. I'll write a tale of love betwixt you and me, (Betwixt you and you, me and me) I'll write a tale of self love. #napowrimo #day19

Whilst leafing through an album, I stumbled upon some familiar countenances, I saw her who birthed me and him whose endearment is nonpareil, Them who descried the desolation that I obscured. Whilst leafing through the album, I halted at a page and looked into the eyes of a girl, The one who shared a womb with me, who now resides in a remote domicile. Whilst leafing through the album, I espied the countenances of those who chose not to forsake me, Those who cherised my unmasked visage. Whilst leafing through the album, I stumbled upon my family. #napowrimo #day17