Published on May 14, 2026

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The Ignoramus Director

• Post author By tbrg
• Post date May 14, 2026

The Ignoramus Director

“Lights, camera, action!” the Director called.

Moments later the stage lights flicker on, the camera starts rolling, and all that is captured

is a burst of gunpowder and Alex’s collapse mid-scene.

“Lissy, you were supposed to fire in the next scene, not now! Alex get up.” the Director

hissed.

“But Sir, I didn’t take the shot.” Lissy said. Then thoughtfully added, “My gun isn’t even

loaded.”

The Director, enraged, roared, “Then who did? You’re telling me that somebody just came

into the room, casually took a stroll, and shot Alex? Also, why won’t he get up?”

Just then, a police crew burst into the studio.

“Everybody freeze!” the lead officer commanded. After everyone complied, he calmed

down and said, “We have received reports of a murderer in the area and believe he’s here.”

The police cops spread out and began searching the area. They found Alex lying on stage

and checked his pulse.

“He’s dead.” an officer called out.

The lead officer then asked, “Who killed him? Ladies and gentlemen, please confess, it

will save our time and we will only keep you in jail for about the rest of your life.”

A man wearing a Darth Vader mask then stepped out from behind the cyclorama and said,

“It was me. Just make sure you don’t keep me in jail for any extra time. I look forward to the

free holiday and especially the food. Thanks for the luxury treatment I will be getting.”

The police officer scratched his head and tried to figure out what the man meant by free

holiday and clearly overworked his two braincells. He stood there stupidly for a minute,

before grabbing the man’s arm and saying, “Let’s have a nice little chit-chat about what

you have done and the consequences.”

The cops left with the masked man and the Director turned around and said, “What was all

that commotion about? Anyways, Alex really should get up. It’s nearly noon. I really want to

get two scenes over with as the hot dog counter closes soon.” l

Just then a police squad burst into the studio. Everyone’s eyes went to them.

Chris, the knight with no muscles, said, “You just came. Why did you come back again?

You already caught the murderer.”Saying this, Chris proved that his armor was not hiding a brain. He then went back to

practicing for the next scene where he had to flex muscles.

The police commander, baffled from being interrogated regained his composure and said,

“Sir, I’m pretty sure you are mistaken. We are the only police crew in the area; all other

police crews are more than two hours away. On a serious note, we have received a report

of a murder over here. Can we please investigate?”

The Director, doing his best to look official, firmly put his foot down with a resounding

“No”.

The commander was stunned, and everyone smirked. After the chief managed to get his

wits, he asked, “On what grounds?”

The Director nonchalantly replied, “Because the camera is still rolling.”

Two police officers examined the camera before saying, “Sir, it’s off.”

The police chief, now visibly enraged, shouted, “What do you mean the camera is on? It is

literally off.”

The Director replied, “I’m talking about the security camera.”

The police officers went to the control room and opened the footage without saying a word

to anyone. The footage clearly showed a fake police team, confidently walking in, taking

the criminal and leaving. It portrayed them as efficient, confident, and yet completely

unaffiliated with the government. Which truthfully was the complete opposite of what the

actual police portrayed.

By now, the chief was fuming. He slowly turned and looked at the Director, then cuffed him

and said, “Interval starts now. There is a buy one get one on popcorn. Hope you enjoyed.”

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Tomorrow’s Headlines

• Post author By tbrg
• Post date May 14, 2026

Tomorrow’s Headlines

“Ethan, it’s time for school, wake up!” my dad called out.

Still groggy, I yawned, rubbed my eyes and went back to sleep. My dad then came into the

room, exasperated that I had not gotten up, so he pulled open the curtains and let the

morning light spill into the room.

“Fine!” I exclaimed, getting up.

After making sure I stayed awake, my dad went back to drinking his tea. After getting ready,

I headed out. Outside, right under the doormat, was the daily newspaper. Thinking nothing

about it, I scooped it up and put it in my bag.

The school day was a breeze and by three o’clock, I was back at my house and was about

to start my homework. As I was taking my books out of my bag, I thought I noticed

something odd about the newspaper, so I scanned the cover page but saw nothing unusual

until I saw the date. Instead of being the current date, it was for the next day.

Thinking it was a mistake, I ignored it and began to read the paper. While reading,

something felt off, so I opened my laptop and searched the headlines. According to

Google, all of the accidents happened this afternoon.

Confused, I decided to ask my dad as he had been working at the chronicle for over twenty

years and was one of the senior-most staff there.

I glanced at the clock and realized it would be two hours before my dad came. Not in the

mood to do any work, I started scrolling through YouTube. My friend Bob called and after a

long chat, we ended up blaming the newspaper predicting the future on an AI program.

Later that night, my dad came home. As we were both eating together, I asked, “Dad, today

morning I received a newspaper with tomorrow’s date on it and all the headlines occurred

this afternoon. How is this possible?”

My dad paused, then sighed and said, ” Son, do you remember when your mom nearly died

a few years back, but miraculously survived? That was my doing. The Chronicle has always

had a secret that has made us far more successful than our competitors. What I will tell

you stays here, understood?”

I promised him that I would not tell anybody.

Hearing this, my father continued, “Fifteen years ago, a man named Marcelo Fabian

worked at the Chronicle. He believed humans write their own destinies. He discovered that

by predicting the immediate future, and writing it down, it would come true. Through him,we discovered that human belief is a powerful tool, and if people truly believe in

something, it will manifest sooner or later.”

“This cannot be true,” I interrupted rudely.

“Then how is the newspaper there?” my father replied.

I remained silent and my dad continued, “Using his teachings, we now predict what will

happen the next day and keep the paper printed one day in advance. You somehow got one

of these copies. Anything written in them will happen. You might have heard the saying ‘the

pen is mightier than the sword’; nothing is truer. Mankind can write its destiny but cannot

fight it, just as Wolverine cannot fight his fate, written by Stan Lee.”

Saying this, he got up and left me to ponder the implications of what I had just learned.

The next day, as I entered the classroom, Bobby yelled, “Ethan, I have proof that the sword

is mightier than the pen. The pen writes on paper, and paper gets ripped by the sword.

Hence, the sword is mightier than the pen.”

I laughed and took my seat next to him.

If I would have my own destiny, I would keep it as it has been as despite all the lows, some

of the highs only come in the form of surprises.

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The Thing in the Reflection

• Post author By tbrg
• Post date May 14, 2026

The Thing in the Reflection

“You wouldn’t believe it”

, grumbled the old,

scarred face from behind the veiling hood.

“Not

even if I told it to you.

”

The group of young listeners leaned in, with

poker faces as a charade to their heightened

sense of inquiry. Their exuberant visages

seemed incongruous with the dark, cavernous

pub in which this midnight revelation was

unfolding.

“Years ago, on a similar night like this, I walked

into that haunted manor”

, laboured the beaten

voice of the old man.

“It wasn

’t your regular

horror house— the ivy ran all the way in from

the windows and into the room. There wasn

’t

anything to be heard except the dreaded

silence that shook me.

I entered with a dimming torch, looking for the

source of the nightly howls. Oh yes— there

were rumors of all kinds. Werewolves,

speculated some. Rotten corpses, guessed

others. I continued deep into the house. Ichecked each room as I spiralled my way into

this labyrinth.

”

The old man heaved as he glanced around. Yes,

he thought, he had got their complete

attention. A faint glow of satisfaction warmed

his insides as he continued.

“The rooms were screened by dust, lit only by

the dead glow of the moonlight creeping in

through the cracked glass windows. I wasn

’t

much of a daredevil; but, well, one can

’t ignore

orders while working in the police.

Suddenly, my ears stiffened as a cold wave

passed down my spine. Some sound, yes, some

noise after all. Drops of water, I fathomed by

their faint trickle. I became oblivious to the

disturbing itching in my back as I navigated my

way towards the room that was the sound’s

source.

It was the master bedroom— wooden furniture

with ornate designs and an exquisite chandelierthat aggrandized the relic of a room. I ushered

myself into the bathroom and found the source.

It was a leaking tap and by the looks of it, it

must have been cleaned quite recently. I

doubled down to get a better look.

”

The young audience, well into their thirties, was

hooked. The old man continued.

“Before I could ponder over the tap, I heard

another perturbation. It came from the same

room. I sauntered out of the bathroom, partly

to look brave and partly to get my mind off my

back pain.

There wasn

’t anything there. Strange, I said to

myself. The weary night grew on, and as dawn

approached, my nerves started to get the

better of me.

By dawn, I had completed a thorough search of

the shaky mansion. Just before the first

streaks of daylight would flood the sleepy town,

I decided to take a look back into the master

bedroom.As I entered the room, I saw a big polished

mirror in the corner. Weird, I thought— it

wasn

’t there before. As I took a few steps

towards it, I began to notice something strange.

I picked it up and cleaned the dirt off it with a

rag. Then, I looked straight into it.

My back hurt.

I didn

’t see anything worth recalling.

But, since you young guys want to know, instead

of my sweaty figure, I saw a full grown

werewolf looking straight back at m

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Rains of Rajasthan

• Post author By tbrg
• Post date May 14, 2026

Rains of Rajasthan

Frank’s father was transferred to India. Now the family lives in Rajasthan in a place called

Barmer.

The transition was substantial for the Scottish lad, it was supposed to be the cool season of

September and this ‘cool’ season gave the boy a mild heatstroke the first week of being

there. The collector bungalow was beautiful indeed with a well-maintained garden; the

architecture that was supposedly British yet it was so alien. The sloping roof was purely

decorative with no real roof gutters – even the pantiles were just cement ridges painted red.

Their butler was a thin man with a rat tail who called frank ‘chote Saab’ he never got what it

meant yet learned to answer to it.

After six months of varying degrees of absurd weather from winter mornings cold enough to

freeze the local ‘talao’ to thirty-five-degree heat in October afternoons- the dreaded

summers came. His father had told him it would be best if he went back for a while and his

mother already had but frank was too invested. So, he stayed soon to witness sandstorms

that burned the straw houses of villagers and seeing the air wobble over the sand all the

while boiling over in his room even with the fan turned on.

When the hot winds blew, the servant would stuff the windows with a mesh of dried grass

and poured water over the setup; it always got so cool when he did that only he could do it

when the winds blew.

Finally, when the weather got bearable, he stepped out of the quarters after months- with

an umbrella and all measures needed to prevent the heatstroke he got last year.

This time he stepped out he saw something which made him ask the man “where did they

come from?”

What he saw were a bunch tents made haphazardly with a cloth laid on a dry shrub as roof

and drapes hanging from thin ropes on the other. There were goats and sheep- dozens of

them, grazing on trees standing on two legs. He was confused, there was nothing like this he

had seen, there was no making sense of it. The man however, didn’t look so intrigued.

Frank looked at him expecting an answer. ‘They are wandering people, kalbeliye. Their girls

do dancing; not good people, that kind’ said the man arising more questions than

answering.

“Dancing isn’t bad” frank said only to be interrupted before saying any further ‘you are a

child only. I already tell you they are bad people. Now we go from the other gate, if you wish

“let’s go inside already” said frank with child-like annoyance. And thus ended the stroll.

Apart from some cold days, August this year is warm and somewhat humid, the kalbeliye

children were unaffected, running barefoot on the sand, The girls looked out of the ordinary

with their black clothes with little mirrors. So, this is what they wear to dances, frank

thought.After a fortnight or so of frank being a voyeur, the weather got worse, he heard thunder the

first time last night, the rain he saw in July was not this torrential, he didn’t go out anyway so

it wasn’t a big deal.

The next morning, the clouds were dark. the kalbeliye began to pack. The girls no longer

wore those clothes and switched to rags. When they were left, still clearly in sight; the rain

began.

Frank went outside, Ganesh was nowhere close, he saw the children being to howl in

excitement, the adults were indifferent, frank felt rain the first time in India, the rain was

warm.