“I went to pluck the magical rose but a Lion as huge as a mountain was guarding it. He said, ‘Don’t you dare pluck it.’ So I knocked the Lion out cold in one punch. His teeth bruised my knuckles though.” said the three-year old, explaining his bruises to his mother.
Thank you all! Just 3 months back I was the only one reading my stories. Now I have 50 like-minded friends.
I have no words to express so I am bouncing around the house with a crazy smile on my face and Pizzas are on the way.
Thank you for making it possible!
Mom (to her 12 year old): Honey, Why are you up so late? Are you alright?
After 40 years
Daughter: Mom, Why are you up so late? Are you alright?
It takes courage to forgive but it helps heal. Check the true story of a survivor of Nazi attrocities, who had the power to forgive. https://wp.me/p4Puj8-8SH
The pen shook in her hands and a part of her wished the court would reject the papers because of the garbled signatures. So far, she had assumed she did not care anymore but it seemed like she did.
He was wearing dark glasses indoors, she was sure, to hide the emotions in his eyes. If only he would stop her just once, she would relent.
But he took the pen and signed with shaking hands, setting both of them ‘free’.
“The boy at the shop across the road keeps staring at our house and smiles whenever I come to the window. Yesterday, I slapped him for that. I am not that kind of girl.”
She repeated her story for the tenth time and looked out of her window at the shop with evident pride. The boy was smiling while he stared at another house. Her face fell.
After hiding beneath the bed for half an hour, he whispered, “Do you think it’s gone?”
Teddy bear replied, “Not sure. Want me to find out?”
He helped Teddy peak out from under the bed. Teddy said in a bright voice, “Yup! Gone! I told you, you needn’t worry while I am around.”
He hauled his 26-year-old frame out from under the bed. “I was just being cautious! You can’t beat all of them.”
She: “Wow! So, you have been to 10 cities and 7 schools in 18 years? Isn’t that amazing! I wish I could leave this city too. How does that feel?”
She doesn’t call us often now. Mostly, she just texted. She was ‘too busy to call at the regular hours’.
Somehow, we didn’t buy it. Her text had just too many smileys.
Worth a read!
By Neil Clark
When you were in space, you told me the thing you missed most about Earth was the morning dew.
I spent the next decade threading our garden with a thousand webs, tall and broad as the house. I became an expert in 3D light displays. Rigged them so they’d catch the droplets perfectly.
On your first night back, you were quiet, like you were worried your words hadn’t adjusted to gravity.
You slept for eighteen hours and when you woke up at dawn, you went to the middle of the lawn and wept about how you already missed the stars.
“I write to surprise myself.” – the author
By the time it was dusk, he was tired of hiding in the old warehouse. He had looked for shapes in the peeling paint of the walls all day. Now that the hall was darkening, he was a little spooked, not that he would ever admit it.
Suddenly he found a shape resembling a face of a man clutching something. Was it a knife?
He looked away trying to curb the guilt and dread rising in his chest, only to find one that resembled a woman dead on the floor.
Suddenly, the peeling paint that was her hand moved slightly.
He clutched his heart and died…
“It’s alright, dear! The pain would end soon.” Hamish consoled Heera.
Heera was too ill to work… ever. People had suggested Hamish to sell him to a butcher and get some money to buy another Ox. But Hamish loved him as a brother. They had been together for nearly eleven years, transporting goods on their ox-drawn cart for a living.
Once Heera died, Hamish would have no one to pull his cart but he would think about that later. Right now, holding Heera’s head in his lap, he prayed for his pain to end. Only when Heera’s eyes went glassy, did Hamish allow his tears to fall.
-Dedicated to all who have loved and lost
“Of course we don’t send our daughter to school. Who will marry her then?”
“We are sending her for a professional degree. Helps in finding good grooms.”
“Yes, she is in the team flying to Planet Isis. Heard there are many bachelors over there.”
“The monsters looked like a small grey mountains.”
“They had large wings where ears should be and a hand in place of nose that they used to pick and throw us around.”
“As His Majesty Alexander’s war horse, I had believed nothing in the world could scare me but the war cry of these ‘Alifants’ sent chill up my spines.”
“I’m glad we returned after that encounter on the banks of river Indus. I don’t think we could have survived one more.”
-Survivor stories by His Majesty Alexander’s war horses
YEEEEEEE! Two hundred likes!
I know most people might consider it a low score. But considering I had 3 likes 3 months back when I decided to give blogging a real try, it is quite an impressive score for me.
I want to thank everyone who read my stories.
I would also welcome any criticism. We have a saying in India: ‘Nindak niyare raakhiye…’ that means ‘Keep a critique close because they clean your impurities’. So I urge you to share your thoughts about how you felt about my stories, my site and how I could improve.
I would like to thank BeateleyPete for his timely blogging advice about adding my site to my Gravatar. It skyrocketed the number of followers from 10 to 40 in one month!
Every evening when I go out to forage for food, I see her returning home. The last of the sun glints through her brown glossy feather as she glides through the air in all her regal glory.
She lives on the tallest tower in front of my humble tree and I have worshipped her for all the three years of my existence.
But as a creature of night with wiry, featherless body and jerky flying skills, I wish I was worth her.
I don’t think she knows I exist…