She definitely did not have easy goals for life. Reading 50 books per year , cooking 50 new dishes , visiting 10 new places in the same year,so on.
Every accomplishment was beginning of a new strangeness. Until her life seemed hollow to her – the dark pit she dug and drowned alone.
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Written for Inspiration Monday , Trifecta , G-Man’s fridayflash55
In far away lands ,In middle of a blue-green lake, sat an island which liked a footprint in the lake. In this island lived a prince with his few friends. And when I say friends , I do not mean other people, but the stars that he could see from roof of his palace. The moon was the appointed guardian of his friends whose well-being the prince asked daily before settling to gaze at the stars. Each night a fairy visited the prince and together they sat talking of the stars , the star-dust from which people were made , the star light that gave life to the fairy , the moon and his different faces , of the dark nights when moon went visiting his friends in other side of the sky , the new friends that the prince saw some nights. And so passed many seasons in this little known island.
One day , the prince could not come on the roof. He was unable to even leave his bed. The cold wind made him tremble so his servants closed the windows too. No star was seen to the prince. The fairy was forbidden from entering the palace by her queen so she waited on the roof like always. Days passed and the prince could not go out. The stars started falling hoping the prince would notice. The fairy whispered songs to the winds but the closed windows failed all the attempts. Finding them so sad , a magician decided to help. He converted the roof into a glass one so that prince could look at the stars from his bed and the fairy could look at him dreaming.
the prince was very happy. His smile made the fairy realize how much she loved him. she shed her wings that morning and never returned to her land. Entering the palace with hopes and dreams, she kissed the prince and passed her last wishes to him. The prince was cured immediately and till date , they both sit at the roof and share the day’s tales with the stars , their first and best friends.
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This story is specially written for a dearest friend and the perfect dreamer I know !
It was a difficult task. Lot of planning was needed. but she was prepared for the journey.
It all began when he held out his hand to her, and without a word, she started walking with him. she never had questions, he never answered. Silence did its job when eyes ever met, and it happened more than often. He was the star of her life – not the brightest but the constant one. She was the cloudless moonlit night in his universe and nothing could be as beautiful as her any day.
It was a difficult task. Lot of planning was needed. but she was prepared for the journey.
But he never asked her. He set out to search moon on other planets and forgot the map she had once drawn on his palm for him. He said he was better alone, forgetting the time she filled his lonely nights with dreams.
It was a difficult task. Lot of planning was needed. but she was prepared for the journey. If only he had held out his hands once more ….
She now writes farewell fairy tales to share when he returns…
Source : Trainstation by No Life Before Coffee (via Flickr stream)
I see her standing at the platform, half hidden by the corner pillar; her left foot tapping to the song playing on her Ipod, looking nowhere in particular but everywhere. For a moment, our eyes meet and we smile. she turns her look away almost immediately as if hiding from me as I keep staring at her elegant and almost attractive features. Noticing all possible visual details about her, I try hard to remember her but in vain. Every name that pops in ym head is negated by the playful smile she has on her face as if enjoying the trouble she has given me. She once more looks at me from corner of her eye and looks at the incoming train for an excuse to look elsewhere.
He comes out of the train and as if she was already aware , she picks her stuff and hurries to meet him. Taking him in her arms she beams like a child who has got an extra candy during lunch time. she whispers in his ear and he looks at me with one of the most heart breaking smile. And that’s when I know who she is. I used to be her some years back ; She used to be me that time. My future baffled at my present ; My present hiding from the future ME.
I see them walk past me with a knowing smile. I miss those days. I miss him. I miss myself. Andhere I stand , awaiting for another chance perhaps.
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Prompted @ Sunday Picture Press , Inspiration Monday , 3WW
That wasn’t supposed to happen. The wedding could not happen without him. And yet, there was no news of his whereabouts. 12 Hours before she sat in front of the sacred fire, she was excited and nervous like all brides but not for the life that awaited her. She was anxious to see him, to see his smile as she appeared in her wedding attire and his “i knew it” eye roll. She smiled at the thought while keeping an eye on her phone.
It suddenly lit up. A message from him
“You sure about this ?”
“Do not be late” , she texted back
“You deserve better than me, I repeat.”
“I know, you have said it enough times”
“I left you so many times”
“and yet you returned each time”
“This time was the longest”
“3 years.Thanks for returning. See you tomorrow.”
“It will be a pleasure to see you married finally”
“Yeah, and to free you from me”
“Wow. I can date any number of girls after tomorrow”
“Sure, Just send me the best stories”
“You still the same.Shameless and fun”
“Like always.Bye now. I need my beauty sleep”
“Love you princess. Hope your prince treats you better than me”
She did not want to reply to that.She did not know what to say.
–
For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Diane challenged me with “You deserve much better than me.” and I challenged Michael with “A bottle and a glass together changed the night for her; something even his smile could not”
Also linked to Inspiration Monday [ That wasn't supposed to happen ]
Cara was a beautiful angel – lovely , kind and helpful. but she was lazy too. She would often be found dreaming about her prince charming or gazing into the open skies for clouds when she actually must be working.
One day, the Queen of angels – “The mother” as every one called her, was touring her garden.When she came across her favorite corner, she found it littered with dry leaves. Of course she could turn them into green ones or better into flowers if she wished, but she never did that in order to teach all her angels to clean the area as it must be. It was Cara’s duty that day to clean the dry leaves but she was lost in the book of magic tales written by her favorite human author.she did not even notice The Mother standing in front of her with anger building fast in her head. And in the same rage, queen turned Cara into a stone statue and sent it to Earth. the yellow leaves and her broom followed her trail and settled around her as well.
And later when she felt, she was too harsh, she willed the curse to be broken by any guy who would cleanthe mess around this lonely statue. And so Cara awaits for the day she would spread her wings and be back in her city. Help her if you ever come across her please.
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Image : Title Unknown by Steve McCurry (http://stevemccurry.com/galleries)
Story Part 1 here
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He moved a bit from his place behind the tree, enough to let the moon robe him in a silver light. his bald head shone a special glow, and that made her smile. He looked charming even without his smile. The smile actually, she remembered from her reading of the chairs, made him look dangerous. But her instincts told her, he himself was not aware of that effect. He wore a black long coat held in place with a silver chain looped around a single huge button in the shape of crescent moon.The trousers , of the shade blue of the sky, shimmered under the moon light. He wore no shoes. And that seemed odd to her, since she herself was standing bare foot.
He followed her gaze towards his feet and whispered, “I am not sure why I did not want to wear my shoes when I started from home.” She dropped in the nearest chair and looking at a distance far away, said ,”The energy of this place feeds your thoughts. Its easiest to absorb it through skin of the feet since it stays hidden from external touch most times” Saying so, she dug her feet deeper into the soft soil. He could see she liked that. She nodded her head once as if replying to an invisible person and then looked expectingly to him
“What I do not yet understand is, how could I hear your call ? I was not even dreaming.”
“Neither was I. I was thinking about you.”
“Do you know me?”, she asked abruptly.
“I read about you in the morning. About your act.”
“My act. So you are not sure if i can really read from the object , about the person who last touched it ?” , she asked passivley,clearly she was used to this skepticism.
“I am not sure. not unless I verify it.”
“What else did you see, when you called me?”
“I did not call you, I said.” , he replied with a hint of irritation in his voice.
“You did. I do not create my dreams unless some one calls me from their dreams”, she said looking a bit nervous. “you have to remember what you want me to read for you, before its morning. I can not stay after sunrise.Mind games are bit different on other side of night”
“I thought of you as a queen standing below a palace of purple bricks and a pink flag on the corner post”
“I hate pink!” she turned her face in disgust , as if she had not heard any other part of the statement.
“And you did not think that, you dreamed that !” , she said with a finality in her voice, even if it was barely abouve whisper.
—
(to be continued)
also linked to 3WW , Inspiration Monday
“It’s a gift and a curse” he said, handing me the drink. I had no energy to hear him but I did . After all, when all had left , he looked back and stayed for me.
“Each wonderful evening ends with such mess”, he looked around and laughed. I just let out a sigh of agreement.
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Prompted @ Sunday Picture Press and Monday Inspiration
Written for G-Man’s Friday flash55
When he awoke, he had the weird feeling,something was missing. More evident problem was that he did not know what was missing. Or from where. He looked around the room to take a loud inventory – the things could be counted on finger tips easily. Then as he saw the heavy locked door, he laughed to himself. It was impossible to steal anything till that door stood its place.
He ignored the feeling and walked to the breakfast table grabbing a beer in one hand and his camera in the other. He liked all the shots from the last evening’s trip to the river side park. Just liked. and he understood, what he missed. One of the shots troubled him. It would have been a perfect capture ,Only if the girl had not turned her face at the last moment and glared at him. So what if it was a cliche shot , he had waited half an hour for some kids to pass that section of the path.and the branches had to be covered so that they did not overlap with the shadows. He took one hard look at the pic and emailed it to the magazine for the contest. He badly needed to win, not to survive but to sponser his college fee. He finished the beer thinking of his days when he would be studying photography and not just using it for a living.
Next day , a couple turned up on his door steps, the magazine in the lady’s hand was open on the page that had shown the pic he had shot. Without any formalities, the lady asked him “where was this pic taken?”
“In the park behind this building”, he told without any question though he had some.
“And the girl ?” the man asked.
“She was with the people in the pic. Might be a part of the family”, he said a little defensively.
“She is my daughter”, the lady yelled.
And with that she ran towards the park. The man muttered a thanks and followed her.
He could not contain his curiosity and ran behind them. The couple was calling the girl with her name and looking frantically all around. They did not have to go far when from behind a bush, the girl came running forward. She was bouncing with joy as the lady bent to take her in her arms.
He stood there, not sure what to do or say, so he silently returned to his room.
That weekend, he received an envelop that contained a cut out of the pic and the story about how it had helped a couple find their lost daughter.
The story won his shot the votes and the contest.
Prompted @ Inspiration Monday and Sunday Picture Press
She stood in the terrace of her tower and smiled at her sinful creation; her son from the devil , the lover of death, worse than she wanted him to be. And that made her feel so powerful. she hummed to herself and bounced from one brewing pot to another. He stood in the corner , watching her mix the ancient potions for him , his blood lust making him even more sinister, his lover waiting at the door steps to embrace other mortals.
A night of horror awaited the city.
This was the train of his desire, he knew. but how to convince her to let him board it, he mused.
Standing on the platform with him, she knew how badly he wanted to be on the train, only if she gave the slightest nod with her slender neck.
They both saw the train enter the platform , people getting in and out of it; she saw his restless fingers struggle to come out of his jeans pocket and touch some one;he saw her expressionless eyes scan the crowd around them and tilt her nhead in disapproval. Suddenly her eyes turned cold and dark, she turned to him and said in a haunting voice, “The next train will be your reward, if you can stay still till the arrival.”
He dare not move after that , till the next whistle filled the station. The next train arrived – full of people of all ages. The smiles hurt his head like hammers, the hugs and kisses were nothing but a blur to him as he was let free finally, to mingle in the crowd, to bruise some , grope others for fun,push a few over excited kids and mark the cosen ones to be dealt with later.
That night , death knocked on those doors behind which hid the marked humans.He sat and watched them twist and turn in dreams at his will. He laughed when they screamed, and kissed them goodbye as his poisonous fangs went red with their blood. These were the purest of souls he fed upon, the ones that made him more like the devil with each soul he sucked.
Tomorrow another train will change some more lives.
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Prompted @ Monday Inspiration and Sunday Picture Press
Breaking the silence of the deserted park, she heard her cell vibrate. A message from him – “Can I get MY Khushi* back?”
She smiled, the first thought being,he finally saw that she has changed.At the same time,she was troubled with the emphasis on “my”. She knew she could not ignore the message, neither was she in the mood to reply yet. She looked down from where she stood, in the center of the bridge.she loved the reflection, the semi arc in and out of water, completing a whole circle. She called it the eye to her heart and soul. Standing on the bridge, she always thought there was another Khushi inside the pond. The one who was just like her but a bit stronger at times.If she was the body and mind, the one in the pond was her heart and soul.She smiled at her own reflection , her soul part and typed the reply, “We both knew the rules.With time, the rules had to change.We knew that too, right ?”
A leaf fluttered from the nearest branch and fell into the pond, disturbing her reflection, like the trouble waves in her heart.
Almost same time, she got another message, “I do not know what to say. Did i offend you or something ?”
It was time she faced her reality. She braced herself against the cold air as she sat down on the bridge, her back against the sun kissed railing, and typed :
“No, its not what you said or what you did not say. Talks of my wedding are going on at home. And with that hunt, the tension is high around me. I just can not concentrate on others right now. Better be left alone.”
A minute passed before the cell buzzed again, “You can not tell me who I should leave alone and when”
He was impossible, she knew, “Neither I intend to do that. I just need to sort my life at this moment, get into the routine of meeting strangers , weighing the pros and cons of any proposal based on I don’t know what, be prepare to be misunderstood at times and still deal with being rejected ’cause I lack the beauty and poise of a lady [ according to my relatives] and when I finally get married, maybe then, I can try being the one you liked.”
she felt anger pierce the calmness she came for, to this place.
“But you will not be mine, any more.”
“You friend will still be yours.”, she typed, not knowing where that conviction appeared from.
“I shall wait to have her back, then.”
“Ok.”
“You could have told me all this before.”
“I know”, she typed but then deleted it. She never was going to tell him any of this. She could not tell it to any person who knew her better than this guy. She stood up straight, done with the weekly dose of contemplation, aided today by his questions. Determined to make the best out of her days, and to not let these feelings come to surface again, she finally inhaled in the beauty and stillness of being in that moment at that lovely place..
With a smile, she wave good bye to her reflection and walked towards home.She had to make true of her name.
–
*Khushi is one of my favorite names. It means joy/happiness.
—–
Prompted @ 3WW , Sunday Picture Press , Inspiration Monday
Submitted also to Theme Thursday
He knew it was not just a dream. He tried hard but could not shake the feeling, he was being called to trace his destiny. And he heeded to the call of his heart. Weeks of walking through strange lands with uncomprehensiblee forces guiding his, he finally stood in front of the tree – tired and excited both. But when he actually saw it, he could not believe his own eyes – colors dripping from each branch, each leaf , golden flowers falling in spirals all around. he felt like a misfit there in his dirty brown coat and yellow umbrella. He fumbled a bit with the umbrella before closing it and stretching his hands into the waters that poured just over the tree. He knew his life would cease behind the curtain of color drops.with a glance at the surroundings, he finally stepped inside the tree’s shade. the faint golden glow of the flowers gave it a mystical look.
And then he noticed him, an old man scribbling away in deep thought on what looked liked tiny roll of translucent paper. without looking at the visitor, the old man ordered him to collect the inked rolls and load into dream wagon,whatever it meant.He followed the orders as if he had been doing that all his life,and waited for the next order.He belonged here – in this lost world of peace and words.He could hear the echoes of unknown voices around him – the banter , the disappointments , the smiling words , the sarcastic ones of skepticism. Hours passed like this , he rooted to same spot, hearing those voices and being a part of the emotions.
Finally the old man got up from his desk, and looked at him with interest. “You are still here! i see. You will stay,the place has made you its own”, Saying this, he came forward and handed the silver pen in his hands. He sat down at the same desk like the old man , looked at him once with a dazed look, gave a farewell salute and started filling the “fortune less” fortune cookies with his ideas. The old man faded. Life began anew at the tree of fate.
—
Prompted @ Indigo Spiders , Inspiration Monday , 3ww
She would walk in the room and recite prayers as we went to bed.But would look at us while reciting the last .Till college, I slept to her voice. Today, I sing the same to my kids :
“when the wind gets tired,
Stand proud my child,watching your breath,
the force of your life, keeping you alive”
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Prompted @ Inspiration Monday
I miss some one I have never met. It does not mean I knew him not. He was the one who understood nothing of my culture but me for sure. We met in a poetry forum, me amazed at his bold writes and he surprised to see an “Indian” like them. It was a pleasure to break his myths about India each evening as he broadened my horizons of writing every night. words flew like boundless love from one country to another; from one heart to another. A dream to meet just once , a desire to hold his hands, a beleif in the boundless love between two people so different in every way.
And one day, he lost his son to suicide. He lost to life, And I lost my best friend and guide.
seasons change always
your words frozen in time wrap
I explore vaguely
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Prompted @ Inspiration Monday & Tuesday Tryut
