A collection of Paperian Hardik Rajpal’s creativity and writing
Snippets of what he wrote on our writing prompts
Paperian Hardik Rajpal is one of our most experimental writers who gets very unique characters to his writeups. Read a collection of some of his writings from The Folded Paper’s online writing meetings.
The Pandemic Project
This is what he wrote when the prompt was a dialog between devils/angels during pandemic
“I can say with unnatural certainty Lucy, that this is your doing,” Michael said as he smashed the article on the latest statistics on the pandemic from earth on the coffee table.
“I wonder what gave it away,” said Lucifer sarcastically. “Perhaps all the suffering and pain that it’s accomplished.”
“That and the lack of a quick and logical solution to the issue. Humans would have found their way about any rock that we threw to teach them something. The fact that they’ve been at it for months meant someone from the other department had their hands red, so to speak.”
Lucifer stared at his hands which were a bright crimson because of his latest manicure and furrowed his brow as he sipped his latte.
“It might disappoint you to know that humans have in fact analyzed your little Christmas project to have positive effects on their environment,” Michael added.
The devil spurted out his coffee in genuine amazement.
“What gives them to find fault in my art? Do you know how many months I had to spend in his lab, conjuring a new being of pure destruction?”
“Maybe you should have asked him to add something that would affect all living beings universally, and maybe even inanimate objects” Michael blurted out in the flow of the argument.
“That’s actually not a bad idea for an Easter project.”
Michael convulsively snapped his fingers to induce a bright flash and Lucifer forgot the last five seconds of the conversation.
“Now where did you get that manicure, man?” Michael prodded.
The lost and found artist
He wrote this on this picture
Gustavo’s full time job never meant anything to him. Managing a pet store was not quite how he liked to spend his days and yet, he looked for inspiration in his workplace for his real passion whenever he had the chance. Once he came home from work, he would relive those moments of naughtiness with the cats and the mischiefs that the mice in the store pulled on them. He would try his best to recreate them in oil paints on canvas and more often than not, the images would fly straight out.
Waking up in Vegas
This is what he wrote when the prompt was to write about our dream vacation
I was still half-asleep when I walked out of the elevator to unearth what was going on. I had no recollection of a yesterday, or a day before that.
Surprisingly the only memories my brain gave me access to were those of my early childhood. I cautiously walked into the lobby, glancing at the marble statues and chocolate fountains, on the lookout for any manager who may pose me a bill or demand what name my booking was under. “I was raised in Bhopal,” is not an answer he or she would be content with.
Then I heard the shuffle of the dozens of decks of cards that mysteriously appeared around me. They flowed from the dealer’s right hand to his left, almost as if they had come to life. I was nearly frightened by the clash of the snooker balls and the rattling of the balls used in games I couldn’t even name, because I was raised in a decent family, or so my firm had instructed me to preach to my clients. The only idea of relief was that I was away from my work and manipulative bosses. Now that’s weird, I could have sworn I didn’t start working until I was in my mid-twenties. I was not surprised when a strong aroma of red wine tore through the air in the room, making it impossible to turn away from the minibar. I could have been in any casino in the world but when I set my eyes on Katy Perry, I knew for a fact was in Vegas. Better head out before they recognize me.
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