The Prism of lies of An Unfinished Novel and It's Cluster of Unfinished Stories

The notion of novelist for lie is true.

Lies float on blue blood, flowing into the veins of people , who work in the manufacturing industry.   Truth of lie was true for himself and for those who can see half shaded objects and can hear the notes which are hardly audible.

Off late some fugitive plots made  few new plans   to come back but they had  returned from the door steps of the room where the writer sleeps . 

They whispered in high pitch so that chaos could open the spirals of the notebook. Therefore, they have  started negotiating with some unsuspicious characters who could perform well by manufacturing lies.

When the writer got up , all these  ever fugitive plots had  reminded the writer, It should be perfect, it should be unique ,  as  the judge of the highest court of justice  said in the permeable of the first chapter .

  Metal moulds , plastic granules along with few machines bought in auction were supplied But unfortunately no empty pages were agreed to leave any space to erect all these. The only wise method to establish the factory was to bribe , but in dignified way so that it would appear like govt subsidies linked with twelve-digit identity.

Could you rearrange the 21 and 12, again and again ?

 Afterwards all became smooth pretty and durable.

 Designed got approved within a day, though few raised objection and termed as hasty. Production lines were  lined up within fortnight, though seeing the lines writer moaned, you are militarising my entire book. 

There is need for consecutive strike on terror launch pads across the lines of the uncontrollable pages , the chief of manufacturing process replied vividly.

 Afterwards it was all blue and black so thousands of square shape and round shape stamps and gallons of ink produced for stamping every pages of the unfinished novel as a measure of punitive action against the writer. Seeing all these ,  the chief of production lauded ,

Love and affection  should be visible enough and marked by ink.

hypothetically on 2018/04/12 with the pace of earth's  movement  and  at  ever  unknown REAL time .

On Rotation...An Unfinished Novel and It's Cluster of Unfinished Stories

The 21st 

Its not mere a century

A small boy of long passage asked the writer , while both were standing on the hybrid queue. 

In Nyaya Logic, There are twenty one heads which describe the human sorrow, and last one is  the pleasure.

The neck of the boy was not long enough to grasp the voice of he.Everybody tires to be  bigger, the writer whispered,  while putting the leader before an assumed last word of the long passage.  From nowhere the small boy will emerge as ...

Will the rotation fetch the initial word?

hypothetically on 2018/04/12 with the pace of earth's  movement at unknown REAL time ,(certain dogma remains constant. the height of  dwarf , the  21st!)

An Unfinished Novel and It's Cluster of Unfinished Stories

First step towards the horizon...

He is who, not defined yet .

And 

He has been writing a novel for years knowing that it is not feasible to complete..... 

Although he made different plans , 

Every other day either a character or a plot walks out from his novel , and after putting all effort when he  brings back either of two or more, neither can be fit into this jigsaw puzzle. The story started never and pages after pages only the infighting of enemies are mentioned. Unanimity  of animosity . If anybody to be booked for all these, so called  crimes, it  is the writer himself . 
He had a plan  to  pen a novel which was already been written by his ancestors in a language that he never learnt. Learning is a crime and crime always been a language to perform.  It was told that writer had had another plan , that is to  stop living . This  was the  precondition of completion of anything and the stories too.  

Recently a character has been added itself into pages .  It has no gender , which  text can specify , call or shout. When an element (living or dead ,  born or who will never be  born)  can't  be described with a specific   gender or the genders mentioned in Official  Gazette    then he  will live with  only option to impart justice .That  is to kill  it .The Infinite justice of killing has emerged as a  basic dream  since the birth of any definite plans so far thought or being executed .  Hence  he made  few of his earlier plans renewed .So,  to exhibit  his  justice or the plan , as the case many be,  he needs to ornamenting  the killing.  

You know , I  have to finish (it means reach or demise ,or anything that readers permit)  all my plans by suppressing it ,  before the highest court can pass a verdict(let it be favorable or against ) , before media can auction(let the bell rings for zero value or call it for priceless tag )  few pages of my  unfinished stories and before  the millions of unidentified future writers  will pen(let it be mousing)  into the pages  with an intention to finish the different angels of same unfinished novel.  Series of unfinished stories can't be stitched perfectly inside the volume of a unfinished novels, so the paradox remains like a blur face ahead of a clear group photo.  How can I allow  anybody(not even somebody)   to cut off the  different angels of my four square circle? 

He yelled . 

The limit of horizon gone a little far ...

So ideally it is the Just which presumed for long and practiced by few , who got power to hold the justice  in the way it should not be. 

When something like was the central of the discussion a female character of  the second chapter of unfinished novel,( or, if at all it can be termed  as novel) the writer borrowed   a character  from  a story of his enemy, named as  prejudice, whose legs were made off worms.

Millions of worms immediately captured the brain of remaining pages, (or, if at all anything was remaining) and the brain of the writer started shouting for anything,  but certainly not for  a character.  Anybody, whoever was newly born and had had small amount of thick white fat inside of their hard skull cell, declined to join with a  writer,  who has a big amount of belly fat by sitting hours to dream a dream story. Hence it’s the same  vicious cycle of four square circle ,  which has no center  point . Anything round or appears to be round should have a center , the writer thought.  But none   of the plots of his stories obeyed him. Now , it's certain that there will be no center of circle and or axis of square .Certain uncertainty is obvious, certain agony clothes all pleasures   . Therefore The writer will never try to create any plot .Henceforth Plots will create themselves to dissolve.  Eventually memorandum of misunderstanding between different character and plots  really going  towards the finishing line of  a story  which has already been published by a cobbler .The torn shoes and their soles have all foot print  inside the room which hatches dark on every morning. Now onward  all the published plots are in a queue in a hybrid system where He, the novelist, or the person who dreamed a dream novel, or an  unestalished entity, whoever may be ,  is also a quantifiable number whose turn is doubtful to be turned up.

At midnight , sky is being illuminated with panic of being ....

hypothetically on 2018/04/12 with the pace of earth's  movement at unknown REAL time .

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