Scribbleriana

Elanur sat despondent in her room looking out at the view in front of her. She was on the window seat of a manor house set in the idyllic countryside, a forest surrounded her home and she could hear the chirping of the birds on this bright serene morning.  The vivid green of the forest leaves were sparkling in the cheerful sun which beamed down and flickered amongst the trees, playfully dancing between the branches. The roses growing below her window were heavy with flowers in shades of pink, white and buttery yellow, and they filled the air with their sweet musk.  Yet Elanur could not find it in herself to be cheerful or positive despite her charming surroundings. She didn’t have the one she wanted next to her. Sultan Murat was back from his diplomatic duties and she was due to meet him but he had not arranged to visit her. Ela sighed and put down her embroidery.  She hadn’t seen him in eight weeks and was missing him terribly.  He had told her to wait in this pla...

It was on my holidays last summer that a strange incident happened. I still can't shake off the feeling that the memory brings back.  It was a warm day, warmer than normal, the skies were cobalt blue and clear of any clouds. I had left my tour group as it was our free day and we could go somewhere that we wanted outside of the tour schedule. I went to visit one of the famous step wells that Rajasthan is renowned for. The well was as impressive as I expected.  There were steps cut into the rock, layers and layers of zigzagged steps which led to the bottom of the well, this is where there was a deep pool of water.  These were ancient structures and I had always wanted to visit one, not only to marvel at the breathtaking and ornate architecture but also to experience the feeling of walking down to the bottom of the well with the local women and viewing the well as they did, a source of water but also a communal place for social gatherings and somewhere to rest and cool off...

Morris sat at the best seat at the bar. It was one of the most expensive restaurants in London, high end, dimly lit, decorated lavishly, the music - trance like, the best drinks and the finest cuisine.  He held an old fashioned in his hand, and was seated in the darkest part of the room; the arm with the drink resting on the edge of the bar, his legs crossed over as he leaned back against the chair giving him the best position to survey the room. He wore a perfectly fitted three-piece suit made of the finest wool. A bow necktie completed his affluent appearance, and his jacket hung open, showing the waistcoat beneath which was moulded perfectly against his broad chest. Morris gently tapped his finger against the glass as he scanned the room and watched the girls walk past him.  The waitresses, the heiresses, the hostess, the girls who were here for a birthday meal and wouldn't be able to afford this place on a casual night out; the wives of the wealthy barristers and investm...

Two more people hadn't come into the office today. Two were taken ill last week. Sultan's manager Sherry walked in looking worried. "We have had an unusually high amount of sick days collectively as a team in the last three months. I am beginning to wonder what is going on." Sultan had noticed this too but thought people were simply having too many coughs and colds. What else could it be in the dark, dank, endless grey winters in this country? Freezing temperatures in the office didn't help as they tried to warm themselves with heaters that were working on overtime. "It's been one of the coldest winters we have had", Sultan told Sherry, "surely everyone has been reacting to this and getting the flu?" "That's not it. People have complained about tiredness, exhaustion, drowsiness and they have been yawning a lot. Some have said they felt like they had a mind fog where they are forgetting what they are doing." Sultan ...