Dead and Alive Next Chapter

So I started reading Consequences by Aleatha Romig. Started like all decent psycho thrillers go with the heroine getting kidnapped and all. Then the story started developing…And I was like…


I haven’t finished it yet. Lemme tell you, it is one major trippy ride! God my head is aching from being wrung out like that…I haven’t hated a hero this much in, like, EVER…

Can you believe I put it down because I seriously needed a break from a book!!!!!?

No really. I took a break. I have things to do and stuff I can’t ignore any longer. Like cooking and eating and bathing and the like. Also I should have posted this chapter sooner but I was just being lazy like always (sorry for that BTW). Here’s the next chapter of Dead and Alive called ‘Mine to Possess’


And I’ll go back to mind trippin’…

Dead and Alive next chapter

I saw the trailor of the Legend of Tarzan. It just came up in the middle of another show I was watching.


So then I pulled the blinds, turned off the lights, switched on the Bose and played the 1080p version on my 55 inches screen. A few times. BECAUSE … …



Seriously people, anyone who hasn’t seen that awesomeness needs to get their fingers clicking and go watch it right now.:)

Oh yes and here’s the next chapter for Dead and Alive-

Wow! How long has it been?

Almost a year…

I don’t even know how to start this post. I took a break from writing for a bit. It was inevitable at the time. Personal tragedies in the family, travelling and my good old mood swings all contributed to me being an ass to my readers!

In the interim, I blasted through my reading list. Can you believe I read almost two hundred books in the duration of last year and January and half of Feb of this year? SO I’d say, that time wasn’t completely wasted (I have quite the stash of book boyfriends now😀 ). Even if I didn’t write anything. I love this phase and it is still going strong (my husband doesn’t like it as much as I do)!


Reading so much broke me away from my Charlaine Harris bad habits. My faith in the written word was restored. And I have started writing again. Sorry for being as clueless as I am though😦😦😦 …

I want to cheer and applaud my friends in this space though. Kudos for continuing to write, captivate and entertain. I might suck as a writer, but I am a hell of a reader and I thank God for good writers everyday. You go writers! You’re rock stars!

So I have gotten ahead on my ongoing projects. Working on the last chapters of Angels of the Night and Day and Dead and Alive. I’ll post the chapters as soon I finish editing the drafts. It feels good though. Completing what I started. That’s how I’ll make way for the new WIPs right?

Angels of the Night and Day – Heart’s Prison

Dead and Alive – Pay It Forward


And now I’ll get back to work:)

Superhero Fiction Contest Entry

When I first read about Berti Bott’s Superhero contest, I was so effing excited. Ideas flowed like fountains in my head and the muse bathed in those fountains! I mean, what’s not inspiring about super hero’s right?

A month later, I still could not choose the superhero I wanted to write about, and absolutely no clue whatsoever about the companion story. So like the competitive person I am, I gave up thinking and let myself get excited about other things (Dinner, laundry, cleaning, folding clothes, you get the picture)

The night before the contest closed, I had a dream. And just like that, I knew what superhero I wanted to write about. I saw my school in this dream and so this story is set in my teenage awkward school years. A few things I took from true events but most of it is fictitious. Much superhero stuff that I have read is set in times when they are already full fledged world saving do gooders. So I wanted to steer away from the all-growed-up super awesome hot hero being and think about their growing up years too, sort of like what things were the triggers for them to become what they would later become.

I hope you like my take on this particular super awesome hot hero person:) I didn’t win (big shocker!) but I loved writing this story. Bertie Bott made this awesome banner –

Superheroes are born at Science booths


Story Title- Superheroes are born at Science Booths

Summary- Clark Kent, aka Superman, is not Superman yet. He is in school, not sure about the extent of his abilities, oblivious to his true parentage and origin. What power he has, he hides. But he is not the only special kid around. Wait till the school faces a real danger and he discovers a secret his best friend is hiding. One Shot.

Status- Complete

Disclaimer– The plot- I imagined; the hero; I wish I could have; the franchisee- is not mine. Cheers!

Click the banner to get to the story…

The Time Has Come…

I participated:) Yayyy … Do go check out all the entries! I haven’t read them all but what all I have read is awesome:)

Fanfiction by Bertie Bott

That’s right… The submissions for the Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Superhero Fest have gone live and voting is open!

*cue the fan fair and music*

I want to give a huge thank you to all the participants. You all have blown me away with your stories and enthusiasm and it’s just a joy that you’re allowing me to share them with everyone. Truly.

Please remember to keep which entries may be yours a secret but absolutely promote yourself and the fact that you entered by sharing the participation banner below.

Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Superhero 2015 ParticipationHere’s the official lineup for this contest:

Voting polls are now located on the contest homepage as well as at the bottom of each entry – voting is allowed once a day. Feel free to leave comment/reviews on the submissions as these authors worked very hard on their entries and it absolutely shows! Voting will close at midnight PST on…

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Love to the Muse and the Force to all of us :)

I wrote this poem sometime back.

The idea, the inspiration behind this poem written in form of a free verse, is more than the words I bunched together. I think I have written poetry since I started writing proper English. I just never shared. Over the years, I have come to understand my muse and subsequently myself, more with each piece I wrote. I started with rhymes but soon got over them, as I find them very restrictive. Or maybe I never got the hang of making my lines rhyme properly:).

But, speaking about my muse, it’s this deep place I have always guarded jealously, much like all of us writers (veterans or novices). Through this poem, I am trying to describe this inspiration, this place from inside me, from inside all of us. I might not have done justice to the beauty of it. But I keep trying nonetheless. It is not a person. It is not an idea. I think it is that part of me that makes me draw, dance, write, sing and even make magnetic machines in my bedroom. It is also a part of something much bigger than meager old me.

The reason I wished to post this poem is because for the first time in my life, I want to come out and acknowledge the weight of it’s presence and the way this small seed of creative energy has kept me sane in times I wouldn’t have survived otherwise. I am being melodramatic. But drama is set in the heart and soul of an artist and I want to be an artist with all my heart and soul.

There…I said it (‘it’ being very cheesy right now)…

I also want to reach out to my friends in this community and thank them for praising, scolding, nitpicking, encouraging and bribing each other to keep the soul alive and kicking. I am thankful for this outlet in my life. Our art is not just about fanfiction folks. It is much more than that. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. Keep writing, playing, nurturing this part of you and revel in the joy it brings to our everyday lives.


Pictures in White and Black

I loved you through a picture hidden in a storybook,

my little heart so full of you,

when just a sketch in austere white and black,

would fill a million colors in evenings of solitude.


I loved you when I first started seeing you in dreams,

such innocent dreams of holding hands,

when that one touch would sooth all hurt,

a second with you, feeling like a friendship for ages.


I loved you through the years of growing up,

through the highs of crushes and the lows of disappointments,

when I wouldn’t let in my best of friends in your place,

would you ever chance to come by.


I even loved you in the hour when I walked towards a life,

that I was not sure was even meant for me,

when the only cherishing touch left remaining for me,

would be the scrap of a sketch I once thought was your likeness.


But you were not just that scrap of paper, quick to tear, wispy to flight,

you were not a mere dream, fleeting to touch, lost to a blink,

you were more than a crutch, more than hard ground to stand in storm,

more than a little secret on the side.


I have loved and lost, nurtured and killed,

built and torn down your visage in countless forms,

only for the thread that pulls you to me, me to you,

to safely tug my soul back and stop my fall.


When all is lost and relinquished, you,

would be the dust and air that shapes me up again,

when my veins filled to the brim with your unadulterated life,

would be the only torrent, keeping me alive.


I have loved you through love and hate,

through sleepless nights of standing on a brink,

when I knew that the step in darkness I took in faith,

would kill me, but also give me flight.


Kill me then, my love, and end this strife,

come forth from wilted papers and dreams and hopes,

I will love you, even when love fails and forsakes me,

I will live then, even when life ceases and I am no more.



Sakshi Chopra