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I don’t feel like completing it..

There’s a story half-written, and I don’t feel like completing it. You may ask why, but there’s a kind of completion in leaving things as they are. So many stories have their bittersweet endings. They come in all forms and shapes: some comedies, some tragedies, some heroic, some devotional, and some defying the norms of regular storytelling. So, when they ask me, “What happened to the protagonist?” after reading one of my stories, I respond with a question: “What makes you think that I know the answer?” They then respond with another question: “But wasn’t he so close to uncovering the truth?” I generally get agitated at this point and reply, “There were no truths in the story of Arsh to begin with.” Arsh is a character in a story I wrote, known in his town for his deduction skills. One day, he got involved in a completely bizarre case. Many people went missing in his town after discovering a map that led to a temple in a nearby village. There was nothing suspicious about the temple, on...
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                                             Roosters are up for something…   I wake up to the sound of a rooster. Ah! It’s morning, I guess. Those ugly birds have decided that it’s their duty to wake the world up. They are up to something, I thought to myself, only to realize that they are just there to make some noise. I get it, it’s morning, why do they have to crow about it? Maybe it’s their only way to feel a bit self-important. What if the roosters are under the illusion that if they don’t crow in morning, the day won’t proceed? Maybe crowing in the morning is the only thing that imparts some meaning to their lives, or perhaps they are crying out loud that life has no meaning at all. Who knows???