A sample of my creative writing: GREEN GREEN GRASS OF HOME
(With apologies to Claude Putman Jr)
I nearly jumped out of my skin as I turned the corner in my just-out-of-the assembly line Audi. Was I seeing things? The weariness which made me long for a hot cup of coffee and a cool bed thereafter after a drive of nearly 10 hours non-stop disappeared completely though I was not sure who was going to invite me for the coffee and offer me the bed,. My eyes popped out as I looked at the green, green grass of home.
Is this really my hometown? All those years ago, when I left without a word to any one including my dear mother, I was the one who burnt down the old Oak tree, sans any yellow ribbon, if you care for those kinds of details, standing right there in the middle of the hamlet that was our home. The terrain around had been almost barren with no other tree nor much grass to be seen anywhere. So the old Oak tree was all the more cherished by one and all.
I, in my zeal as a boy of 13, to test the efficacy of the acid that I had gotten hold of, without realizing the import of what I was doing, had poured the deadly poison around the tree and, left with more of the stuff, went on to dig holes around the tree and let go until the can was void of a single drop.
The poor tree did not take long to show the result of my handiwork. It went off circulation very soon. The investigation launched with all seriousness zeroed in on me without much probing to do.