Featured

First blog post -My Journey As A Publisher of My Writing Starts Here”

This is the post excerpt.

Today , I am starting my Journey as an Online Writer.I am a Writer since my age of 11. Now I am 18 Years old. I have been writing Poems,Essays,Stories,Fiction & Non Fiction since then. Worldpress.com gave me the best Platform to Publish my writings. Hope all of you will like my work, as my aim is to fly high as a Writer. Poems come Next.

Love All

Avneet Sandhu

post

HORROR NIGHTS

Horror-night new2

                   HORROR NIGHT

The only noise is the clock on the wall

lonely as darkness, empty as hope is the hall.

New Dwelling in an isolated town,

billions of solitary stars see clouds as they look down.

Deafening Shouts but no one hears,

Still some presence that everyone fears.

Squeezed in the blanket, shivering in the bed

cruel light cut turned the black night; red.

The wind watching me, tries to talk,

as the running rain, roughly starts to walk.

Ears crying to unhear the untold;

mysteries; stories that this haunted house holds.

Felt a touch on my back as my thoughts got cold,

illusions in my eyes as the whole room rolled.

sell me some heartbeats, some courage can I borrow?

one second, two seconds; how far is tomorrow?

goosebumps in my brain, oh no! is the window open?

The cursed corpse of the child with an eye broken,

Still roams in homes unseen and unspoken.

———-

Decades before me, the kid became a ghost,

the death, the dread, he loathed the most.

Same room, same house, the place of the kill;

same walls to witness what happened and what will.

With a grin on the face and scar on the forehead,

in the weak black world, still walks the child; dead.

 

oh, my thoughts! what was that sound?

it’s him, it’s him, it’s him or some mouse unfound.

Phew, I know spirits don’t exist.

nor does the paranormal, the graves or the exorcist.

Lost in time, I got up and screamed.

in the deeps of the lightless air, a dim light gleamed.

My breaths ran away, and I got weak;

sweats and shivers start to invite the freak.

Frozen and dizzy, my body couldn’t act.

Lightning blazes loudly and another beat subtracts.

————-

I ran to reach mother, but the door slammed shut,

I stood struck, watching ……. logic shouted, “what?”

The curtains whipped and soon I was floored,

Ears refused to believe the noises of the Ouija board.

The coin should not move and this I know.

Why is the signal YES, not NO?

My soul almost leaves as my skin almost erased.

“Soul, you cannot go, I know, you are caged”.

Staring at the board, it showed some letters named,

it was a ghost talking, my thoughts couldn’t be blamed.

Feel the hate and squeals of the ghost in black,

pale yellow face and expressions were a lack.

Silence was shouting and noises restrained,

My fear and life, now feel chained.

A shock said, “look around, do you hear that sound?”

My friend lamp shined like a star on the ground.

Oh god gracious, the electricity is home,

now, my eyes scared away the blind syndrome.

————

The visible evil, now disappeared. what a relief!

But the grief was in my blood, I believe.

Ergo, the vision of those turned feet was never going to leave.

————

Crystal balls and doubts burst in my head,

Oh god seriously, I was nothing less than dead.

Dark demons make roads those lead to pain,

a moonless night and it was dark again.

Aaaah, it’s hot, it’s hot, it’s hot on the deep,

The sun gave me life as it killed my sleep.

————

Pain attacked with an army of thousand thoughts,

I need some air, tell me what it costs.

“what happened last night?”, asked my sight.

Everything was bright and hidden was the fright.

I rushed downstairs and found my family in dining chairs.

Still seeking the scares but let’s eat, “who cares?”

That passing year, left behind the fear,

that memory is a fade and a blur so clear.

It rains tears as the clouds never disappear,

they mourn the life, black all day they wear.

The killer follows me, but his presence I follow.

The stories he carries are hard to swallow.

In the shine of the dark, my eyes see eyes,

blood on the walls and a dead soul in disguise.

Under the shade of the sky, near a river so fine,

is myself looking at the dull water shine.

That’s when I see a face, a face not mine.

The river starts to bleed, the sunlight is dead.

The red teeth tear my hope, that’s when I fall from the bed.

The ghost lives in my dreams of wax, every emotion he melts,

To make me feel the feeling he felt.

Am I behind his gate of sorrow; locked and closed?

After all, ghost is a human and human is a ghost.

Is a dead ghost more alive than supposed?

Does an invisible life in open air suffocates the most?

Does he share his hurt or on me its imposed?

“some secrets are better unexposed”.

By Avneet Sandhu

DRAWINGS

 

PicsArt_08-21-09.20.04

 

At the snowy stroke of the white time,

Down under the soft blue blanket of the sky,

The gloves crown the head with woven wool

The hand rubs; opening the door of the eye.

——–

Christmas greets a new year,

as every next day comes near.

The Tweeny, Twinkly, Terrace lights as today bids goodbye.

———

Drawings of the clouds changing shapes nearby,

The carriages carrying gifts scaring away the lullaby.

The wingless reindeers cannot fly but they try, and

Candies cry as they rain in the hot chocolate pie.

———

Warm winds blowing a little faster

Salty water soaking the body, sliding in the hair.

Sunglasses and sandals supporting the skin,

and Super Sweet ice cream mixed all there.

——–

Sounds of Summer scream, “sand and streams”.

Fishes drilling hot as they swim, it seems.

Suddenly the sunshine says, “survive my stares.”

———

The drawings of the clouds disappearing here

Hot guns of monsoon ready to clash with the air.

Short Sundresses and pool parties, everywhere.

Hot and dizzy days are busy demanding clothes to wear.

———-

Be it spring or Autumn,

magic colors the world, top to bottom.

The flowers and the weather talk about’em.

The drawings embrace the blanket wholesome.

———-

The drawings of the clouds, sing so loud.

Heaven waters the earth and rejoices the crowd

of the purple poppies as the thunders shout.

Another time of all, that makes the creator proud.

 

By Avneet Sandhu 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How They See Sofia-A Mystery

 

                Sofia Watson

                A very tired and scared Sofia Watson is walking on a dreary road on a cloudy evening. The air is black just like Sofia’s hair. Her heart is beating fast and she is nearly breathless. The 18 years old swimmer is holding an invitation to a swimming contest which was over two days ago and she has gone crazy after that day. The only noise on the road is of Sofia’s footsteps and of those which Sofia could hear coming right behind her. The girl is being followed. She turns around to find no one. She gulps and starts walking again. The sound of her breath was clearly audible and she was shivering. It was getting cold and Sofia was getting colder. She turns around and screams in her powerless voice, “stop following me! Please, I beg you” but again (like thousand times before), finds no one. Her head is full of conflicts and thoughts. Now she breaks out in tears. A bird flies out of a tree and this startles her. She comes across two familiar faces in the way and could easily hear them talking with one of them whispering, “I heard Watson lost the swimming contest” and the other teases, “and this was not the first one.” Sofia knows they are laughing at her but she could not care less. The two people start to call her a loser but she walks her way. The clouds were getting thicker and she feels a drop of water on her sweaty forehead. The air was howling and so were Sofia’s thoughts. She finally enters a medium, not so special house where she lives alone. Her brown eyes are turning red along with her cheeks and she lets out a cry of anger, crushes the contest invitation and throws it in the bin. She locks the door and goes in the bed room. Excessive thinking and headaches lead to utter disappointment. She falls asleep. For the first time in the many last hours, she seems peaceful now but who knows, I believe she is having the darkest nightmares. After a night of rough dreams, she feels sparks on her face. It is the sun shining as bright as it. That is when she gets a call from her best friend Julia who, in a completely worried tone asks, “How are you? How is the fever?” Sofia stays silent. Julia knows that Sofia has been spending much time in the school’s pool, stays sick and bruised. She knows that swimming is Sofia’s life and that our heroine has been overdoing her practice. This girl has been carrying a lot on her mind these days. Sofia assures Julia that she is well. She lets out a sigh looking at the photo of her favorite swimmer and heads out to practice.

         Walt Carter, Sofia’s strict and overly disciplined instructor tells her that he has signed her up for another competition happening in three days. Sofia expresses her happiness. He asks Sofia to practice the techniques everyday but not to the extent of getting over weakened. After a long boring day, she is again walking on the road and this time she is not going home. She hears some footsteps again. There is someone but why cannot she see? The same two familiar faces are talking again, “I heard there is some other competition happening this week.” The other says, “I bet Cristina Forks will win this time. I am not betting my money on some loser.” Sofia sheds a tear and walks her way again. She goes to the river of aches. That is what she calls it as that river has been her friend and rival since childhood. That river has given her bruises and made her the perfect swimmer she always wanted to be. She would fight against the water as a child and would scream about her triumph, “I win, I win.” She is now standing on the bank of the river, staring as deep as possible. She dives in with a huge splash. For a while, she lets her body just flow with the water. She feels paradise, that soothing, that rest. She closes her eyes. She lets herself free and suddenly opens her eyes and starts to swim as hard as she can but feels disappointed. She swims hard, then slow and harder again. At the same moment, a man appears on the scene. He looks at Sofia trying hard at what she wants to achieve. He yells at her, “Stop it you fool, you cannot do it!” Sofia does not bat an eye. She is lost in herself. She tries and tries but the man keeps on telling her that she cannot do it. Finally, after a long time she comes out of the river, soaking. She is crying. The man smiles at her, “Told you, I told you. You cannot do it!” Sofia looks down to the ground and says, “I failed, I failed Again!” It was starting to get darker. A weather Sofia has never liked. As she begins to walk she knows that she is being followed again. Voices of people attack her mind again; telling her to stop swimming, mocking her shattered confidence, ridiculing her about the marks and bruises it has given her. A scared Sofia reaches home and dries herself up but she is starting to feel sick. She is shivering and has Goosebumps. She turns the light on and takes a good look at the photo of a swimmer she has always admired. The photo was the biggest thing on her wall. She sighs, “I want to be like you but why do I feel worthless? How did the things change so fast?” She gets no reply as she was talking to a photo.

She thinks of Julia who keeps on telling her that the desperation to win is killing the joy inside of her. This is the life of Sofia Watson, the once ‘special’ but now desperate swimmer, they say. she goes to this river after being followed all the way and a man comes there every day and screams that she cannot. Three days later she meets the two familiar faces again and one of them asks, “Hey Watson, did you win this time?” The other one laughs, “winning? She did not even show up. She was sitting at home on the day of the competition. I heard that she sat home for two days when she lost the first one.” Sofia suddenly faints. There is a blackout.

Then the same day I get a letter saying,

Dear Destiny,

     It has been nearly a week since I died. My sister Sofia needs help. I listen to people teasing her that she lost the competition. The fools don’t know that she did not but I, James Watson, lost the competition. Society believes everything they hear and makes up false claims. The two guys heard that a Watson lost the contest and believed that it was Sofia. They say that she lost but I know my sister wins everyday. Even today my sister went to the river and tried to kill herself by drowning. Sofia never goes there to practice but in a hope that she will drown. She lets herself flow free, so that the river may drown her but something inside her does not let her die and she starts to swim again. Again today, I went there (to the river) in my spirit to tell her that she cannot do that. I scream that Sofia cannot die but she cannot hear me. She says that she failed as she fails to die but she wins from suicide everyday. She looks at my photo every day in her room. I tell her she will be fine but she cannot listen. She drowns to life everyday. She is reborn everyday. She chooses the river to die because she knows that she cannot die there. She wants to live. The society has so many things to say even when they don’t know the truth and my sister is too ashamed to tell it. My sister shivers every day, she gets ill, she faints, she sits at home they say, she gets fever and she has bruises and marks but not because she swims too much.

I know what follows my sister everyday. Fear follows her at every step.The fear of being raped again. The day I died saving her.The day she lost her confidence.The day of the competition. In the society, those who know this, they don’t redeem and those who just ‘hear’ this make it worse. My sister is living a lie. This is how the victims live. They drown in life. She is afraid she cannot feel the same way again. The fear to not be able to walk freely follows her everyday. Boring is how the people see Sofia’s life as, but only you know the truth inside of her.”

“A Mind Like Mine” -Poem

Can you read my face through blank expressions?

How can I walk in all directions?

The cries, blue skies, eyes see a new nation.

My old universe gave me a new situation.

I am Achilles, thoughts equivalent my heel

Mystical as me what my thoughts reveal.

Long live the sun to let me steal

all the light; But still dark and blind I feel.

Life is like a book that I cannot read;

Like another planet where I cannot breathe.

Still bought this book with curiosity

Just to meet the writer from another city.

The walls stand unmoved, so do I

They block my way, wish I could fly.

Distances make roads like a human makes a lie

Don’t take that path, even immortals die.

Can I reach the day beyond my reach?

Will that morn teach things impossible to teach?

Should never count the stairs when we climb

They keep going, never end till we reach time.

Been stuck in the world, can I get out?

Single mind with infinite doubts.

Maybe I want something which doesn’t exist

My entire life will end making the list.

An unbelievable magic, how far I’ve come

Believably tragic, how weak I’ve become.

The hands that framed me, are in my hands

Like a mirage in the desert sands.

This verse is a curse, the quatrain is a pain

I can see my whole universe drowning in the rain.

Is this a defeat? should I retreat?

Sounds easy being written on a paper sheet.

My heart sees God, but I never do

Is it a dream or a dream that wish I knew?

My life is a window which I can’t see through

but it chose me as its hero… and not you!