All Chapters of Wrenched: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Hey Guys. To the amazing ladies and gents, I'm using this medium to appreciate the lot of you who have taken and dedicated your time to read and review my book, Wrenched. I'm saying a very big thank you to you all, with a wide smile on my face. I would also like to let y'all know that I see and appreciate the constructive criticism in the reviews. Wrenched is unedited and sometimes I go through the chapters and edit certain grammatical errors and misspelt words. But I haven't officially delved into editing the chapters yet. The first few chapters are pretty much error free because I have gone over those ones a lot, but the other chapters, especially the recently updated ones I understand they'll be a lot of mistakes, and I apologise for them. I am grateful for those who sustained their interest despite these mistakes. I promise to dedicate time real soon to edit the remaining chapters of the book. For the mean time, I'll be working on

Point of View — Robert Johnson.The name resonated so well with me, not because he was going to be my supposed boss, but strictly because he had made it as clear as mud, on not one but multiple occasions that his daughter is and will never be with a “low life” like me. It was one thing that he knew an interest, from my end had sufficed for his daughter. And it was another thing entirely that I had pursued that interest and dare I say, I had won her over.How did I not know that I was applying for a job to a media agency owned by him? No. Of course I didn’t. I would stay as far away from him as possible considering he had only to snap his finger and my entire life could go down the drain. Was it bizarre that I wanted to be like that? To snap my fingers and command circumstance? Effect changes? Control associations? Okay, not the last one. I could never. But still, it’ll be nice to know I could. Back to the job situation, I had looked it up in the papers. I had read and

Point of view — Robert JohnsonAn invitation to the biggest award show in the city? The Writhe of Writers Awards? No way. Impossible. Even literarily. But the invitation note staring up at me said otherwise. I had to unread, read and re-read the entire invitation letter again. How in God’s green earth did an invitation, accorded to my name, end up outside my doorstep? The only rational explanation I could think of was that it was a mistake. Yes. An invitation letter to the award show which certainly had a post card to this building — where an actual personnel is supposed to be in attendance — was mistakenly dropped on my doorstep. I have seen the post man go from door to door to drop mails on residents doorstep. What I you couldn’t phantom was the fact that my name, correctly spelt and boldly written was accorded to me. So, in the spirit of rational thinking, I had to admit that invitation was for me.Still wondering, staring at the letter, I walked in to the kitchen which adj

A race? Win a race? I came last when I did a relay at my high school. Though I wouldn’t fault me; I was paired with turtles in a human form.“I bet a lot on this race. I still think it was stupid. But ego, frustration and desperation together can make you do stupid things. Don’t you think Jack?”I rubbed my sore wrists. “It’s James.” And yes, desperation makes people do stupid things. I was such a perfect example at the moment. “Ahh James. Cutter is it?”At least he got my surname right. I nodded.“Don McGowan.” He extended his arms.Considering he just threatened to take out my eye balls if I don’t win whatever this race is, I didn’t feel particularly comfortable with this introduction. Though I placed my hands in his and we shook briefly.On the other hand, the name sounded very familiar. I wondered where I had heard it before. “About this race. . .” I called out to him as he had turned his back to me and was walking away.“I mean, I don’t re

Point of view — Robert JohnsonThat explained everything. It was not a mistake after all. It was James who. . . somehow, managed to get us an invite to the Writhe of Writers Awards show. It was beyond elating to know that I would be in the same room with the biggest writers and Publicists in the city, and states beyond. And of course if we want to fit in, we must also look the part. Which would mean getting a new suit for the occasion. I had only two suits and they were both something in between raggedy and well enough; those weren’t good enough for the award showI sighed. As James would say, “a small price to pay for salvation.” I made a mental note to contact the seamstress in the weekend. But for now, I had to get ready for the first day at my new job. First official day, I mean. Other than the very unnecessary physical interview and the tour around the office, I had very little work to do yesterday. And that work was only to make copies of documents for my new colleagues.