Aryan's A-Z

A Single Blunder By Aryan Mukherjee A gentle hum echoed through the windows, The elephant rumbled along its path, Her riders smiled, expressions coated in sun rays, A lily blossom uncoiled its spathe. The children exclaimed, Their eyelids sent aflutter, “A bridge!” they cried, Their hearts warm as melted butter. A few hearty laughs arose, Their presence tinted with amicable aura, Oh innocence, how illuminating it can be, Just to be crushed, a dissipated beam of aurora. The lily blossom shuddered, A petal gently fell, Then another, and another, and another, and another, Until there were no more, just a spadix, whose comrades were sent to hell. The clouds made their entry, The light slowly subsided, A wail erupted from an elephant, Not ours though, this one’s misguided. I watched with curiosity, As we seemed to feel time slow, Then suddenly the car bombarded us, Our thumping heartbeats lost all tempo. Honk! Buzz! Crash! SCREECH! We tumbled out of sorts, The world warped round and knocked...

  The Legend of Taylor the Toothpick A single teardrop falls from my eyes as I remember the day Father died. It was one just like today, with the sun glistening in its ever-so prominent venue, as the sweat pouring down our faces could not be determined to be from heat, or frisson. We had spent years on our mechanism, a laser as big as the boulders behind our land, with a single blast potent enough to wipe out the entire civilization of humans. Now, as the sleek metal rim of our completed machine reflects back my skinny wooden frame, I think as though Father would be proud to have raised a toothpick the likes of myself. As the machine boots up, it bursts into cacophony so loud it could resemble the onslaught of a thousand birds at war. It was so loud, in fact, that I couldn’t hear the whir of a couple wheels approaching… CRASH ! My miniscule hut is toppled like the house of the less shrewd pigs, and two beastly claws of flesh and bone pinch themselves around my waist, dragging my da...

The Rise and Fall of Andrew Tate      "He's bald. He's Romanian. He owns 33 cars. It's your favorite misogynist, please welcome, Andrew Taaaaaaaate," Piers Morgan entails with hope for applause, but alas, his show is left to a black screen, as always.      Love him or hate him, you have to admit that internet sensation Andrew Tate has left his mark on the world today. From his kick start on a kickboxing career, to elephantine hubris in shining his wealth upon the world, to his controversial blueprint of the world and a woman's role in it, Mr. Tate has effectively gotten banned from every single social media platform imaginable, only working as a direct counter to his effects on the world. By absolutely steamrolling the public, Mr. Tate has become both a legend and an anarchist, but at the end of the day, it took a 19 year old activist to put him in his place. Oh, not to mention a pizza box that has gotten him detained by the authorities. Buckle in, because ...

 The Final Trigger Pulled A day that flows as normal, As all days tend to start, Bikes screeching ‘cross the pavement, Sun toasting like a pop tart. We sling our bags across our shoulders, Streaming in within each class, The bell rings its familiar chime of commencement, For many unsuspecting, it rings its last. Books clamor down in smokes of dust, And chairs creak back to hold our weight, Hearty laughter spurs to and fro, The epiphany of home, not to truncate. But shorten it will, As teacher’s brows start to furrow, Trepidation weighs the air, Seclusion starts to burrow. Another bell rings shrill, SNAP! Life spurs to war, Laughter cuts into screams, Quick! Somebody shut that door! A window breaks,  a little girl shrieks, Bang, bang, bang, The adrenaline leaks. Like thunder after lightning, Painful noises near closer, Desks slam to a fortress, Students shoved like a bulldozer. A quiet murmur erupts, All eyes are bloodshot, The electricity within us, Each student a kilowatt. Ea...

  Trip to Hawaii      “Cabin Crew, enable jump seat” a static drizzle cut out from a speaker above, as a mighty thud lurched us forwards like ammunition on a slingshot. An assemblage of lights flickered from all directions as both the plane and people retched through the chaos. A thousand metal ramparts screeched as a monkey would with its tail yanked, and my insides shuffled up and down like an elevator gone rogue. Suddenly, we stopped, and for a brief moment, the symphony of pandemonium was curtailed from the conductor’s end. Then, the drop hit.      1 week earlier…      I rustle my fingers and gaze upon the sand dribbling down into the ground. The navy blue ocean glistened by the sun and emanating patches of turquoise hue crashed down upon the shoreline, as clusters of people from all age groups lingered down yonder. I sink into the warm slushie of sand, and gaze upon a neon pink building with the words “Hawaii National Preservation” ...