She had a lots to say but none to hear. Every evening,I saw her with balloons,she talked to them. To each balloon she told a secret and let it free.Yesterday she said she confessed her love.
Will she today share the name ?
she came,empty hands.And walked into the lake.
I could never know the name.
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Prompted @ Thursday Tales , Submitted to Friday flash 55
He had been waiting there since morning. He had come prepared for the wait.The solitude was much needed to sort the images and words floating in his head. He could hear the words all around him. The same words that he had over heard all in the town whisper behind his back. He could recall hearing them just yesterday; years after they were once placed next to each other to form the very sentence that became his life – “He knows not to value”. A meaningless remark for many but not to him. Only he knew the reason it was thrown at him. Only she knew the hurt behind the one sentence. And rest of the world just took it upon themself to say it for any of his action which did not suit the norm.
If he acted indifferent to cause of poor , or refused charity for religious cause , or did not comment on crimes in the neighbourhood , the same sentence followed his footprints. If any new girl in town showed interest in him, which he no longer cared for , she was warned the same way. He was branded a man of motive , with all his actions to be born out of some selfish interest.
One by one he pushed all these thoughts to the back of his mind. The smoke from his expensive cigar clouded his view but illuminated the dust in the damp air. His clothes did not match his wealth neither did his words match his education. Not that he or any on cared. Finally after a wait of an hour, he heard her climbing the steps. He did not turn to look at her; she was doing that he knew. He just smiled as he raised his free hand to give her a slight wave before settling again in front of the door to her house. She smiled at him and entered the house , leaving the door open as an invitation.
Once he closed the door behind him, she yelled from her bedroom, “you had the keys. Why wait outside my door then?”
“To let people know I am here”
“You never did that in all the years that I wanted people to know you still visit me”, she retorted as she entered the kitchen and searched something edible.
“Time has come to put stop to an old gossip”, he said stretching his legs on the couch.
“Or maybe it will give the gossip lovers some more meat” She said pushing his legs down the couch and settling there with leftovers of last night’s dinner.
“I do not care”
“Really ?” she teased him, but he saw the curiosity in her eyes.
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(I do not know where this is going. I am not sure when I will write next part but I hope its sooner than a week.All comments about the writing and any scope of improvement are most welcome)
Prompted @ Thursday Tales and Theme Thursday
Image Source : Thursday Tales
Standing in your home, I offered my prayers – of hope and thanks in the morning , of belief and will in the afternoon , of regrets and apology in the evening , of being free from this life each night; only to be trapped till I stopped asking.I now just smile at your silent deeds in my life.
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Written for Friday flash55 , Thursday Tales
She would have been loved if people knew who she really was. Dressed always in finest white, Butterflies would hover around her head like rainbow crown. In the middle of the forest was her throne – a swing made of exotic creepers and studded with the stars from the galaxy. Every day she would send out her pet butterflies to the village while she wrote her ideas on the sacred paper – the thin bark from the tree which was touched by a kid. This paper would be later crushed softly within her fingers till it became a fine powder.
Every night she walked into the village to spread this powder on the pillows of the children. New ideas , new paper , new powder , new dreams each night. Every dream carried the magical power of healing – obtained from the paper she wrote on. And each paper in turn was unknowingly blessed with the child who would receive the dream. It was simple – any kid who dared to treavle through the forest trees searching the elusive butterflies would earn his dreams well. The lovely dreams to make you want to turn them true some day. She never wrote dark dreams. That was done by witches of the village and meant only for the adults that sinned.
She was the dream weaver – invisible to adult eyes – but her song could be heard if you dared to dream and believed in them too.
Prompted @ Thursday Tales , Theme Thursday
Maya fell in love with him the very first time she met him. But she did not know this then. Every time they met , she came more and more impressed with him , his manners , his ideals and his way to live. He was there to help any one who asked , any one who needed but was shy to ask. You just had to tell him about some one in trouble and if he could, he would help. The hours spent talking to him on call , the daily meeting for samosa and tea after college , the movies where he slept throughout, she always looked forward to these moments even if they never were alone. But she lacked the courage to accept that she loved him. Theirs was a group of friends hanging together always, she the most shy of them all but he managed to make her talk. Only he could make her agree to all the stupid plans they made for any free day. But she never realized it. It wasn’t time yet maybe.
Then he proposed her best friend. She had never seen them so happy. And so Maya was happy too. As luck would have it, the relation lasted less than a month. No reasons asked , no explanations given initially. But he still accepted her calls , talked to her of the day and soon he began to talk of the relation that was , how he wanted it and why it ended. Her best friend resented him talking to Maya and there would be arguments every other day whenever his call came. He cried for weeks – Maya listened patiently. His pain turned into anger – Maya fared through that too. He made work his life – Maya still managed to be there. But still she had no courage to talk to him about herself , about them. She feared rejection. She feared losing the friendship.
And one day he went away for further studies. For few months she still got calls from him, but every time she wanted to say how much she missed him , he talked of her best friend.
Her best friend is married to love of her life . He is lost in folds of time and memories . And Maya is nursing the pain she got for herself.
You are not just a page
in the diary of time I lived
but more like a bookmark
to the time I lived a lie…
Prompted @ March Challenge [ day 17 - Courage ] , Theme Thursday [ luck ] , Thursday tale [ image prompt]
She dreamed this most nights ; the same scene all nights – she is in a blue room full of white roses. As she bends to smell one , she wishes it was red. She doesnt know why she wants a red rose but she just wants it. and then she moves on to the next rose. After few roses, she realizes its a round room so all she does it smell same flower again and again.
She considers this dream to be a omen in her life of every significant day. And it was a good omen in her life indeed until she went to that rose exhibition. The blue round room had hundred of roses in all possible colours. But it was a white rose she touched and wished it would be red.And she heard a man pass her muttering “Some wishes have heavy price”. she turned to confirm if it was said to her but the guy was lost in the crowd.
Later that night , she had the same dream and when she wished for the rose to be red, the thorns on the rose sprang to life. They pricked her fingers to make them bleed. She cried but the blood did not stop till the rose was red. and then she saw the same guy standing next to her; admiring how beautiful the rose was.
Next day she was found dead with blood dripping out of her fingers and a message scribbled next to her body “I thus pay the price”.
Prompted @ March challenge (day 12 – Horror) and Thursday Tales ( Image prompt)
His tears turned into fairies,his smiles gave color to their wings. He dipped the brush in his pain and etched his soul on the empty walls – leaves of joy , creepers of lonliness, pages of his life – it was all there – even after death.
Prompted @ Thursday Tales , Submitted also to Friday flash55
A painting awaits you ..
“Will you paint today”
“She has not shown her face yet”
“you saw her,right?”
“but not her face”
“So how long before she reappears?”
“How can i tell”
“what do I do till then ?”
“Be clean and ready to paint”
Me, my painting and the brush await her dream now.
Prompted @ Tales Thursday , Submitted to Friday flash 55 also.
Her husband did not approve of magic and She loved him too much to accept doing it - she would be dead without any of them. Today she gave birth to another angel. And now was the time for final act of magic - to make sure she lived with her forever. She became her angel’s twin.
This story was inspired by the thought of turning back time for yourself – and this was the best i could think of a reason for doing it.
Inspired from the image at Thursday Tales ,
Also Submitted also to Friday flash 55
I see a sweet little girl, trying to balance her tiny feet on the sidewalk ; one feet ahead of the next ; holding her fancy dress in her pink fingers. But not for a second do i confuse her with me. I am not her , She is not me. She should not be. Not ’cause i wasn’t this happy and playful when young but ’cause i am not like her today – 20 years later.
I laugh at myself still though knowing well it’s for world’s sake. I curse myself for my mistakes and yet make them again. I live in the pain of lost love and treat it like ecstasy. My words are fueled from the darkness that lurks in my life. The days are brighter than they should be – don’t you know that light turns others blind too ? the nights darker than they could be – i even hide my shadows from myself.
I don’t ever hurt others – its considered a sin ! I betray none, bother none. No one is allowed to love me any more though i seek love from many. I hate just my loneliness as much i enjoy my solitude. I am contradiction that agrees most with my doubts. I am tears in motion, fears that feasts my soul.
I am all this more – And i wonder how i became so ! where is that shy girl gone ! One who loved just herself and laughed on just her own reflection.
And yet you do not need to worry – I stand tall and proud ! Isn’t what the world thinks i am !!
I act what you want to see; I do what you will never like to !
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This post was started as prompted at Thursday Tales but the real inspiration came from “Imperfect Prose”. i rarely let my ideas go this way. and am not really sure if i did it well.
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“you always close your eyes” he laughed!
“what do you seek in my eyes” she asked
“myself”
“you are”
“i can’t see it when we kiss”
“Crazy!”
“i know”
“remember the first time we met”
“we were seven”
And together they laughed at the precious memory – the first,innocent kiss.
Love was their destiny.
Prompted @ Thursday Tales
Also submitted to Friday Flash 55
This is my favorite spot – colorful, peaceful and unkown to the rest of the world ! Its hard to be alone for the most renowned designer in the country. But today I was free to go on a memory trip today while waiting for a very special guest.
I remembered my childhood – a skinny average IQ girl from a poor family who was considered good for almost nothing unless you count being scolded in every other class except the art class.
I remembered the day my first love, the topper of my class in college has laughed at me and asked, do you really think you are worth what you ask ? And that was when I first decided & replied with all my conviction “You don’t know about me yet, but one day you will”.
And then I remembered my first exhibition after I finished learning design and architecture. It was the annual cultural fest in the city. Lamps and lamp shades of glass , plastic or thick paper, in varied shapes and colors and as many different bulbs surrounded me – my face lit more with pride over my designs than the multi-colored lights from the lamps. And then SHE walked in, the small, shy looking girl with a huge grin on her face, colors playing on her pale skin, twinkle in her eyes. She was intently looking at one of the lamps.
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“Do you want to buy this?” I asked the lady with the girl.
“I should, she rarely smiles for anything or anyone like this. But look at her now, she can’t stop grinning.” the lady replied with a warm smile.
As I turned to ask the girl which color will she like for her lamp, the lady cut off my sentence fast, “She can’t hear and she can’t speak”
“I am sorry to hear that about your daughter” I said recovering from the shock.
“She isn’t my daughter. I am her mentor. She lives in an orphanage. Me and my friends go there every weekend to spend time with these kids any way they want.” she explained to me.
“You are the light to these kids” I said softly to herself but it was audible enough.
“No, we are like your lamp shades, that get beauty from the light that’s inside these kids” she said as she took out money for the lamp.
“No need, its a gift from my side.” I said as i hugged the girl and gave the lamp to her.
She looked at me for a moment before hugging me back.
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That was the changing moment in my life. I had found my calling. I was going to be a successful designer for sure but not for all. I learned more about the challenges of physically handicapped/challenged kids in our society and then i designed things for their easy use. It also gave me the reason to spend time with them, know their needs, their dreams and desires.
Today I am waiting to meet the girl again, the same who made my life seek the real cause for living. I heard she is a successful painter. And today she comes to meet her inspiration for colors – Me.
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Prompted @ Tales Thursday , Submitted also to Carry On Tuesday
