The Undead – Part 1

This is a work of fiction.

I was a bit annoyed. Usually, I didn’t mind if these creatures created a racket running around what used to be my home but today, I was annoyed. Why? You ask why?

It has to do with a particular star. These creatures call it MACS0647-JD, but for me, this star has only one name – Home. At a distance of approximately 13.3 billion light years away from this planet, it is a bit far. Well, not for me and my kind – but for these creatures it is – heck, they haven’t even developed the technology to explore within their own solar system. I mean, their progress is pitiful barring a few gifted souls. What set these souls apart? Heh. Us. Go figure.

But yes, coming back to the point – today I was pissed because I was told that I had to stay on this planet for another 10 human years. I have been here for almost a 1000  human years and there is only so much entertainment in this so-called pyramid.

Hahaha….don’t look so shocked. I mean, you knew it deep inside you that no human could have built something so intricate, did you? We built it. So that we had a home on this planet and we could track progress of life on this planet. Why? ‘Cos we are trying to manufacture the perfect species…combining the best traits of all intelligent life forms from all over the universe!

But no! You guys had to poke your noses and make this one of the god damn wonders of the world. So well, every day I have thousands of you walking on the roof of my house.

Roof you say?

Well DUH! My home is underground. I had to shift it way, way underground so that your pesky archaeologists would not come poking their noses into what was clearly none of their business.

Once, when I had gone outside around a 100 years ago to collect some samples from a particular human being who I could detect was special, I accidentally bumped into what you called a historian. Well, he was as stunned as I was; seeing my purple skin and red hair. Well – that’s what your limited color vision allows you to see. From where I come from, there are over a 1000 different colors visible to us.

So anyway he saw me and fainted. And hence, began what your media calls ‘conspiracy theories’ about extra terrestrial life.

The funny thing is, we aren’t the extraterrestrials in this case. You are. We found you, you humans on a planet that was dying and brought you here, to make you thrive. We altered you a little bit so that you would evolve into intelligent creatures. Imagine our disappointment when we saw what you were doing to this planet? We decided, this time we would not help you. But secretly, we are rooting for you.

Who are we? We are the undead.

To be continued…



3 AM – Part 4

For part 1 – Click Here

For part 2 – Click Here

For part 3 – Click Here

3 PM

I try Bart’s number for the fifth time. A week’s over and there’s been no news from him. I’ve been waking up every other night ‘cos of Baxter’s weird behavior and I’m a bit sick of it.

‘Finally!’  I almost yell into the phone.

‘Norah, I know I am late, I’ll be back in 3 days. How are you?’ Bart sounds unabashed.

‘Your damn dog’s been working the graveyard shift and I DO NOT appreciate it.’

Bart coughs into the phone and sighs, ‘Look, Baxter is heart-broken ok? It has been a few months since her pup died and she always cries at night. The vet told us it would pass and to be frank, it is getting better.’

I look across the room at Baxter, who is currently in a state of bliss, asleep on her back after a big meal.

‘I didn’t know that.’ I mumble into the phone.

5 PM

I walk back to my bed and open my laptop. Today’s the day I start working from home. There are over 20 get well soon messages and e-cards from my colleagues. I scan through them briefly, sending everyone a simple ‘thank you’.

8 PM

After a few hours, I check my phone. The messages have also stopped. Now that you know that I am on the mend, you’ve dropped all pretense of caring. You scumbag. You…. You haven’t called. You haven’t dropped by. You have vanished into thin air – like you were never there. Fuck you.

I put my laptop aside and hobble to my fridge. There’s an old tub of ice cream which doesn’t smell like it’s expired. I search my collection of CD’s for something sad – ah – The Notebook. I put on my giant flat screen tv, hoping that the movie will evoke some emotions that I badly need to release.

What a dumb girl I am.

But sure enough – after an hour into the movie I’m bawling. And you know what – so is Baxter. The moment she heard my first sob, the dumb dog crawled into my lap. I think it was partly to beg for a bit of ice cream. But also to give me a few comforting licks and whimper and snuggle with me. Damn dog. She’s kind of cute.

For the first time I give her a hug. Here we are. Man and animal. Comforting each other. So this why people are mad about dogs. For being all dumb and cuddly and gooey. Huh. Perhaps I won’t return her to Bart after all.

10 PM

I feel a bit better once the movie ends. I feel like I have a lot of sorrow left in me…but this is good for now.

I look at my phone and yep – true to form not a peep. I take a deep breath and delete your number. I mean – I know it by heart so it doesn’t really matter but I do it anyway. It’s a sign of moving on, isn’t it?

I put my phone on silent and pull Baxter close to me. Something tells me we are not going to wake up tonight, in a long time.








3 AM – Part 3

For part 1 – Click here.

For part 2 – Click here.

Bart walks in, uninvited and the fake smile on my face disappears when I see what he is holding.

It’s his dog – Baxter. Baxter and I go way back. He has a habit of waking up at odd hours of the night ever so often and barking his head off. When I had moved into this neighborhood, the real estate agent had assured me that the area was peaceful during the day. Obviously, she chose her words well. Buyer beware!

Bart held out Baxter towards me.

‘Here. Take him. My mom’s fallen sick and I’m going for a week. You OWE me girl.’

I look at Bart…or rather, look down at his bald, tattooed head in disbelief.

‘Say what?’

Bart coughs and forcibly pushes Baxter into my arms.


‘What the f.’ 

Baxter weights more than what he looks like. I’d never seen a weirder looking dog. A cross between a dachshund and a pug. I can feel his slobbery tongue lick my chin and I try not to shudder.

‘Bart…I can’t look after him! I’m sick myself and I’ve never kept a pet! OW!’ I scowl as Baxter decides to give a nudge to my broken rib-cage. I let him down gingerly and scowl at Bart, trying to keep my cool. Before I can say anything, he hands me a list.

‘Not to worry dear! I’ve mentioned all the things she needs to eat, how often you need to bathe or take her for a walk and the vet’s details…everything is there….plus you have my number….girl I got no one else to ask and you OWE me.’

Bart smiles up at me hopefully.

I sigh deeply. ‘Her? Baxter’s a her? Always reckoned she was a he.’

Bart grins and takes it as an acknowledgement of my acceptance of this strange animal.

‘You better be back in a week.’ I mutter as I see Baxter settle down on my favorite couch. My favorite white couch. I mentally decide not to worry about stains right now, scowl one last time at Bart as he makes his way out of my house and sit down wearily.

In the midst of all of this, I forget to check my phone. I check it again. No messages from YOU.

I throw my phone across the room. It makes a strange sound, like something’s broken. I secretly hope that it has. And then I hope that it hasn’t.

The day goes by quietly. I feed Baxter the food Bart has left with me and take her for a short walk around the block at night, to do her business. I don’t bother picking it up. Bending is painful and not recommended by my doctor.

Baxter gives me a quick lick and we both fall asleep on my bed.

3 AM.

I wake up to loud barks. Baxter’s going nuts. She’s prancing around my bedroom window.


Baxter whimpers but settles down immediately. After 5 minutes, she’s making these weird sounds as if she’s crying. I wonder if I should go pet her, but I don’t have the strength. I make a mental note to ask Bart about it later.

Exhausted, I fall asleep.

To be continued….





3 AM – Part 2

For Part 1 – Click here.

3 AM

I wake up suddenly. It’s one of those dreams where you feel like you are falling and about to hit the ground. Bam! I am sure you know what I am talking about. Apparently almost everyone has had this dream at some point.

It has been two weeks since I got hit.

I am home now, on sick leave…it still hurts when I more around but I am on the mend…well at least as far as my broken bones are concerned.

My heart and mind…not so much. I check my cell phone. There’s a shitty message from you from last night : ‘Hope you are feeling better.’

I snort loudly to myself. Hope I am feeling better? I wonder where you are. I wonder, why when I was sick all of this time – you couldn’t find even five minutes to come and see me? How about calling me?

No, all I get is one shitty message per day, asking me if I am better. At 10 PM sharp. Well done boy, you’ve done your duty of expressing your concern. Thanks but no thanks.

Exhaustion takes over and I fall asleep, despite my determination to stay awake and feel sorry for myself.

11 AM

My body hurts. I get up slowly, trying not to stretch anything that would hurt more. As always, I’ve forgotten to take the painkillers. They weren’t supposed to be good for the liver, were they?

I check my cell phone again. Not a peep from you.

I slowly make myself a cup of coffee and call my mom, who lives a million miles away. I reassure her in my fake peppy voice that I’m okay and no, I don’t need her to fly down and take care of me.

I end the call quickly.

I feel a lump forming in my throat and I have a split second to decide whether to bawl my lungs out or to swallow it with another sip of coffee. I choose the latter. For now.

I run my hands through my hair and realize that I haven’t washed them for over ten days now. Yikes. Maybe I could go to the salon across the street…if I could hobble across in my current state. I dismiss it as a bad idea.

My door bell rings. Pidiiiiing! 

Half of me is hoping that it’s you. But it’s not. It’s my neighbor, Bart.

I see his ruddy red face through the peephole, trying to contemplate whether I want to deal with his annoying cheerfulness but he doesn’t leave me with much of a choice.

‘ Sandra! I know you are in there! Open up.’

I take a deep sign of exasperation and put on a fake smile, ‘Heeeey!’

To be continued.




3 AM – Part 1

This is a work of fiction. I don’t know how many parts there will be. Let’s see, shall we?


3 AM.

A year ago you would have been by my side, snoring softly. I would have gently nudged you and the snoring would have ceased, long enough for me to drift back to sleep. And I’d wake up to your head on my shoulder, somehow you managed to make your way to me every night through your dreams, across the distance of two feet that initially separated us on the bed. I was so content.

3 AM.

Two years ago we would have been talking into the wee hours of the night. That initial phase where you know, you want to spend all of your time with that ‘someone new’. Where being a zombie the next day is something you look forward to. It’s like a battle scar that even two cups of black coffee cannot cure. Ah. New love is bliss.

3 AM.


I’m lying on a hospital bed, trying not to panic. I’m alone. Where are you? I don’t see you as much as I used to. You don’t smile like you did in my company.

But for now, I’m scared. In this big city I’m all alone. The doctors told me to call for someone to sign a consent form. I’ve been hit by a motorcycle and have apparently fractured my ribcage. They want to fix it. I don’t know why it’s not hurting. Maybe the pain is numbing me out.

3:15 AM.


They decide not to wait any longer and operate. I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, but I can’t feel anything, can’t move anything.

Everything goes black.


I Will Remember

I’ll never forget you, my dear…

Of this, have no fear…

Others may drown their sorrow in wine…

Here you’ll be immortalized in prose and rhyme…

Others may need photographs and keepsakes…

On material things I no longer fixate…

For time cannot erase how much to me you meant…

And every single tender moment that was spent…

Frolicking between sheets, breakfast in bed…

All the confessions and what was left unsaid…

Your hair between my fingers, your hands entwined with mine…

The way you made heads turn ‘cos boy you were so damn fine…

I’ll miss those cosy dinners and nights at the bar,

Picnics, quiet times together driving in your car…

The way I quivered every time you held me close…

Made me feel things of which no one else knows…

And then…when you left, the bleeding heart ache…

As if through it you’d driven a stake…

Yes, you are no longer here…You are no longer mine…

But through my words the memory of you will shine…



Fall in love with a writer but beware. Shades of you will echo in how she would write about love and so, you will live on, in a distant corner of her heart and mind.