True SilenceNature is a name enshrouded in mystery. Some say it possesses a unique mind of its own and devises plans humans would be incapable of doing. It has secrets that are beyond comprehension of mortals. Yet at times, nature allows such secrets to be unveiled by a select few humans. One of such secrets is True Silence.
It was a still night too still in fact. The overgrown pine trees lining the driveway rustled not the slightest, looming over, resembling silent guardians. The eerie northern winds along with its wailing notes had settled as dust in perforated holes behind door frames remained untouched. The wilderness too hushed as bats fled the area and grasshoppers and crickets bounded off, reclining from the aura that surrounded that house. If preciseness be employed then; that house on that very night.
While nature prepared its festivities for the next few moments, a girl lay under covers of a comfortable double bed, slowly noticing all familiar sounds around her dimi
I wanted to make friendsI wanted to make friends4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The psychiatrist held the door as a hesitant child of age eight walked in and sat on the small stool. The psychiatrist sat opposite to him.
"Hello George, I am Dr. Majid. How are you doing?"
"I am sad Doctor No one plays with me and I am always alone at school."
"I am sure it will be fine after some days. So George, do you know why I have called you here?"
"No I don't know"
"Well then George you know about Shelly? You know what happened to her?"
"Yes Doctor I know. Why?"
"I want to know what happened when you last saw Shelly. Everything okay George? This is very important"
"Okay Dr "
"Can you please tell me what happened?"
"Well Shelly never talked to me Doctor No boy or girl talked to me."
"I am sorry to hear that George. It is very tough to go to school like that. Now what happened at school?"
"A few days after school started again, I took some thing from Shelly. I took Shelly's Barbie pencil case."
"Did you ask her first?"
"No I didn't"
"That is stealing George; whe
The child in ragged shorts: The bicycleA woman wearing a badly patched cream colored veil, held the hand of a little boy that wore a baggy shirt that one would definitely guess was not his and ragged shorts. It was a hot day; the side walk was sizzling while mirages could be seen over some distance. Mirages were rarely seen in the busy city and the boy felt a bugging curiosity in him as he tugged on his mother's veil.The child in ragged shorts: The bicycle4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Look mama! There the road turns very shiny" he said with wide eyes. The woman smiled.
They were returning home from an errand; one of the woman's well off relative had been sick and she had gone over to tend to her, being the only acquaintance in the area. As gratitude for her help, she was sent off with some cash.
She sighed at the weight the paper notes added to her otherwise empty purse, remembering the image she had once had of a family. How close siblings would be when they grew up and helped each other in times yet those were dreams and the extra notes in her purse represented realit
BleedTo bleed. To be human. That was all he ever asked for. A chance to show weakness. To be something imperfect. Something his father didn't need him to be. He wanted to be human and make mistakes. To do things the gods didn't do.Bleed4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
What was so wrong with that?
alienationYou woke up one morning and felt completely different. That is okay, because we both know that the only thing certain is that nothing ever is. I just wish you would have told me then, so I could have tried to wake up feeling different too. I'd rather hear your voice tell me these things than endlessly trying to listen close enough to hear your eyes tell me to stop kissing you. Because regardless of how pretty they are, they aren't always very clear.alienation4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
So now I lay awake in bed during the days and remember what it felt like to be wrapped up in your skin rather than my blankets. And during the weekends I fall asleep in another boys' embrace and we discuss how odd it is that when he touches me I feel at ease, but when you touch me you set my entire skin on fire. And how odd it is that he once loved me and I once loved him, but now we can't seem to remember how to love each other, and we both find ourselves wishing for other hands when we entangle our fingers. But it's so much better than sp
e.e.cummingsThe day you left, I skipped school to see you off.e.e.cummings4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I said, "There are more important things than school."
You said, "I never said there weren't."
Now, I mostly miss you, and usually on Sundays, I make my way to the place where we used to sit out Sunday School. There's still a Bible on the rock where I think you might have left it, and I pick it up and read it. I've never gotten past the gospel of Matthew, because every time I read it I see you staring at the sky and asking if Heaven's hypothetical.
There were stars in the sky that night, and you said you used to think they were god shining through a curtain.
Once we talked about Our Father who Art in Heaven and you told me that if you were a believer, you'd say both your fathers art in heaven, and hallowed be their names.
I remember the day I skipped fourth block, and we sat on the rocks and smoked. You told me it wasn't good to abandon my education, so you taught me e.e.cummings-
"I like my body when it is with your
I learned t
The lily in the lakeThere was grief in the air. The old mansion resonated with whimpers and cries. The staircase shook while the railing rattled. Floorboards groaned while the doorways moaned in agony. But alas it was the fate of those who lived in the house. And this fate had been determined years ago…The lily in the lake4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
In the main living room, a young couple collapsed on the marble floor, tears flooding their eyes, as they grasped tightly onto a picture of a little blonde girl wearing thick glasses and smiling widely, showing off her braces. People around them tried to lighten their whimpers but it was in vain.
The sky cried that day. It too was sorrowful.
It was due to the shock of a tragedy like this occurring. No one knew what had happened. Perhaps, had anyone noticed a small Diary lying near the lake that was situated behind the old construction, they might have known.
It just lay there. The rain had bled the ink that recorded the small scribbles of an eight year old girl.
Yet if one could read what was last w
The dot on the cliff topHe walked through the soft mushy sand that clung to his feet not wanting to let go. Life was unfair. No, life was unfair to him. Why was he the only one in the hospital that day that was born without an arm? Why was he the only one with this curse?The dot on the cliff top4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
His toe bumped into a stone lying idle on the beach and he winced, grinding his teeth, wanting to hit the stone back but knowing it was to give him little satisfaction. He stared to his right where the tall rough edged crests of the Tojinbo Cliffs stuck from the ground up, casting a shadow over the small stretch of a partially sandy beach that was available to him.
As he approached the cliff, wanting to divert his anger from the lone stone to the rising mount, he saw an ant. Having a poor interest in zoology, he was unable to recognize it. Whether it was a field ant or army ant; all he noticed was that the insect was big. It climbed the vertical cliff side and he scoffed; what is an ant to do at a beach? He swatted at the ant with his availa
the clockwork liari. we dusted dreams off people like the first snowflakes of the season. you'd take one and rest it on the center of your tongue because you hated the taste of ice cream and wanted to reset what cold tasted like to you.the clockwork liar4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
you taught me that the cold could be bitter, and so could people's dreams.
you drank out of out-of-order wells because you believed they still worked and that the government was keeping it all to itself.
i never realized how insane you made me before i wrote this all down.
ii. i wished on the sun because i ran out of shooting stars.
and just to spite me, you began wishing on raindrops because you believed that they were so many, one of them was bound to remember you.
but we both ended up laughing hysterically with protruding knives on a bloodstained floor, didn't we?
iii. i talked to clockwork towers and told them to lie because if they stopped for just a while, all the time in the world would seize.
one human, two human
you never knew.Every summer in Munich the rain used to fall in buckets tepid, luminescent rain, like crystal slices, sluicing through the green trees leaves and loosening the earth around the mountains so much that the smaller towns had to evacuate. It slicked the city streets and made the sky as gray as them. I went out every day while the adults sat indoors around fireplaces to complain about the wet weather, and lied and said it was only because I liked to watch. My mother would shake her finger every time I dripped warm rainwater into the house and my brother would warn me in whisper that if I stayed out too long, I could drown.you never knew.4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I only half-lied. I loved to watch, watch from under the loose flooring of the porch as the rain came down. But Sam loved the rain more, and that was part of why I loved to watch. Loved to watch him watch. As we got older, more and more he would venture out, and sit in the grass as the rain fell around him, his face turned to the white sky. Sam liked the peace and
OverwroughtI am traveling with ghosts in empty-headed rooms, I am swimming twenty-five years into the future of absent-minded hurt. I am making no sense out of this, no sense out of the words that are tripping into my ears and snapping against my skin, I am stumbling through the hallways of the empty, empty antiseptic rooms. I am asking and hoping and wishing too much; I am trying to find myself in the midst of chaos. I am, simply said, falling. I'm not grounded anymore, I'm not secure anymore, I'm not who I used to be.Overwrought3 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
And, for once, I want to be my old self.
I am stepping into the pitfalls of life with scary accuracy, I am kissing the sky with every breath I take, I am begging for freedom. I am the youthful old soul, I am the one that they say will die young, I'm the one who looks at you and forgets who you said you were and looks deeper. I'm the kind of person that you at once avoid and draw closer to because I will never take the truth for granted. I am closing my eyes on the highway and open
blanki'm on the opposite couch and we're watching this movie and i can mimic every word she is saying, and every word he is saying, because they're everything we've already said, and i should not be watching this movie, at all, but especially not with you, and i'm trying to keep myself together, but as soon as it ends, and it's black in this apartment, i quietly stand up and walk into the kitchen, my safe haven, moreso than my bedroom or the living room or the balcony or the bathroom, it is here, always here, where i can release the pent up tears, and so i reach for a paper towel and tuck myself into the furthest corner, and i wipe away the tears, ready to enter the living room again but you approach me and you catch me up into your arms, and i want to push away from you, i want to scream at you YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME IF YOU DON'T LOVE ME and the sick part, the sickest fucking part of this entire thing is that i honestly still do not believe you when you say you don't love me, and you're hblank4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Nothing you could do"There is nothing you could do about it". That was something that always made me cry when I recalled it for the last few years.Nothing you could do4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I had heard it since I was a little boy wearing shorts running around in school. One day during our dodge ball practice my friends accidentally hit a girl sitting alone on a bench. It bruised her arm.While the other boys continued playing with no concern, I approached her, sitting nervously at the other end of the bench.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
She rubbed her arm a few times where the ball had hit her and then withholding tears she gave a weak smile "Its ok, the pain cannot be lessened. There is nothing you can do about it"
I handed her my lunch.
Since then we sat together and ate our lunch. She was a sweet girl, always optimistic and had a keen interest in the philosophy of reasoning. Being a small child I noticed this, years later.
Years later when it was raining and we both ran, covering our heads with the heavy medical books our college had
The Felonious PoetThe poet locked in shackles of iron and stone,The Felonious Poet3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
imprisoned in gloomy dungeons, alone to atone
for crimes and felonies, oh so deceitful he is!
Yet the criminal in truth is the writing pad of his.
Sentenced by the law of all nations in concert,
such renowned reputation; oh would he wish to revert!
But alas no whim of his shall be entertained heretofore.
No child passing by shall smile at his name anymore.
What were the atrocities he was condemned with?
He was a con
for his writing was a devious art
he mentioned not what was
but what he meant to impart.
He was a traitor
for he was not true to his word.
He expressed in entirety once,
but the next time he differed.
He was a murderer
for he killed many a time in his songs
the savior to the maiden
who was meant to live long.
He was a thief
for his robbery was also well known.
He robbed the elfish king,
of his jewels and his throne.
He was a liar,
for he knew not what he had last said.
In one song he was alive
Promise off a million stars"A million..."Promise off a million stars3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Yes a million stars... perhaps there are more. You know what they remind me of?"
"What of it...?"
"You know, I shall give you a million present-"
"Oh stop it!" She giggled "There is no way-"
"What if... I do?"
"Hmm... well I won't like that"
"Huh? Why not?"
"You see, if you give me a million presents together, there won't be anything to give on my next birthday. So give them slowly..."
"Hmm... just one big present every birthday?"
She giggled again and traced the ground with her little fingers while
ImmortalityImmortality4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He sat in his tower that overlooked both his castle and the plains far ahead. He had seen them drenched with blood many a time for years had passed since he had taken the seat as Baron; he had lost count after a century or so had passed. Yet he sat there, fresh in youth and sound in health as if time had yet to bare its fangs against him. He looked around. There were objects surrounding him that were as old as he was. Staring at them he felt a shard pierce his heart for the first time in years and he gazed outside the window.
His servant Biliuth entered the dark chambers where he saw his master seated in his usual seat next to the great blade that descended through generations. Then again for his master a couple of centuries meant little. What made the sword to be savored by an immortal was the man who last wielded it, the only worthy adversary to the baron in his entire existence, Sir Guordon Fort.
Biliuth approached, placing the tray on the small table that was situated under the lef
The devil, the Angels and the flowerbedThe wind breezed through curtains waving in despair.The devil, the Angels and the flowerbed3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A tinkle of bells danced from the devil's lair
ringing with a distressful purpose, chilling the wind
that coursed, while fire tormented a soul within.
The brazen hue of dust preserving memories of bliss
trembled with the soft breeze like a wavering kiss.
These memories - stashes untainted by dust lay open
on the hoary flooring next to a person lying broken.
Locks black as the iris enveloped in gloom,
glide like a fresh spring, watering flowers to bloom,
to give way to orbs shining with the last tears.
She looked up from the curse of seclusion over years.
She glanced as the devil jeered and jingled its bells
denying her the sight that would undo the spells
that scorched her heart; remains only arid waste.
This pain, this torment, is one she fights not to face.
She heaved as the lifeless cage bound tight,
with its spacious windows, boasting plentiful light,
darkened the glimmer that the gust falsely rose;
further withering a lonely wit
My Lover, My Slave"Delusional heart;My Lover, My Slave3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
come, waste no whimper my dear
for the night is young"
A better motherA better mother3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Time unravels it's a fact of life. The words kept resonating in her mind as her stare traced the edges of the expensive NARS blush on marking her cheeks and the Sephora eyeliner that had been applied so precisely
"Why do you go out with those boys? They are a bad lot! You-!"
"What the hell do you know you hag-"
"Watch your tongue, I am your mother! What if the gang takes you in an empty parking lot-"
"And what? Rape me?"
"With those vulgar things you wear, yes!"
"This is called brand, woman! You are an old ignorant lady, sewing mufflers for her daughter that she hates to wear; it's pathetic!"
"Is trying to protect you pathetic-"
"Yes it is! I just wish I had a better mother than you"
"A better mother? Better than one who prays for yo-"
"Yea, yea not listening!"
"You think you can do a better job than me the way you are?"
"Much better thank you, but I hope you are not alive to see!"
Charlotte's mother went silent. She broke into tears at the final statement, openl
The child in ragged shorts: broth and the beggarIt was getting late. The sky was dark while the orifices in looming edifices managed to leak some of the moon light they were withholding. The woman hugged herself with the porous shawl that she was wearing, pressing the twenty-two rupees note again and again on the counter.The child in ragged shorts: broth and the beggar4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
"Please, just for today; I do not have anymore money. I beg you" she pleaded but the person at the counter couldn't care less.
"That is three rupee short. I don't care if you beg. If you have anything else to put forward then do or get lost" he replied harshly, spit flying from his mouth. The woman retreated, a disgusted expression on her face.
"What more can I put forward after I put my self respect on the line by begging you"
He laughed spitefully and loudly before replying with a smirk "Things like that don't tarnish self respect of a woman you know."
"Then you don't know what self respect means!" she yelled and turned away, her frustration clearly reflected in her eyes as she stared at the twenty rupee note and
The child in ragged shorts: the special dayThe child in ragged shorts sat down scrapping the sandy remains of cement from his wall. He hoarded it up and sat down in a corner of his derelict abode. Under the wavering shades of light that barely seeped through the dense clouds, the excited child started working on the small hoard he had managed to amass.The child in ragged shorts: the special day4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
A woman, clothed in worn out attire covered by her loose shawl, pulled away the hanging shades that fell over the front door; protection only from prying eyes. She approached the boy in ragged shorts and placing the small plastic bag she was carrying on a creaking overhead shelf, sat down behind him.
"What are you doing dear" she whispered softly in his ear not wanting to startle the little child.
He quickly bent over not wanting the women to see whatever he was interested in.
"One moment mama" he said and the women giggled slightly, planting a kiss on his rough unkempt hair and sat back on the floor lighting a candle placed on a small table by her side. She sighed wondering how
Padlock tower: the letterHe sat in a position that few would call comfortable. The chains confining him gave him restricted access to the battered table woodlice scuttling hurriedly through the crevices while the chair itself was pitiful. With one leg missing and the remaining three squeaking under his frail being, one could hardly call his sitting as comfortable.Padlock tower: the letter4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Yet it was the least of bothers for him; he gazed outside, admiring the silhouette the line of trees at the mountain pinnacle formed with the sun behind them. The sky was cloudy with many a pretty clump noticeable at frequent places. He smiled at the lightest flicker of gold as the leaves swayed with the wind and each shape a cloud would acquire. He had written about these exhibitions of nature frequently but at the moment he was busy with another work.
He looked down and again picked up his quill, scratching out the last word:
" know it has been years. Too many to scratch out on the walls that surround me. I recall yet the days
A thousand dreams to be in your graceA thousand words I musteredA thousand dreams to be in your grace3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
each word for you, more eloquent then the last.
A thousand breaths I breathed
each breath carrying my aching life unto your mast.
A thousand whispers I spread
each whisper conveying my lovers delight.
Unto you, do I bequeath my lover’s delight.
A thousand gems I mined
each gem tumbled, compared to your elegance.
A thousand cloths I refined
each cloth aches for the fair maidens tread.
A thousand roses I pursued
each rose anxious to home in your locks.
Strained - anxious to home in your locks.
A thousand songs I crafted
each song to clothe you in fine praise.
A thousand tears departed
each tear in remembrance of your face.
A thousand prayers I prayed
just to witness the bliss of being in your grace.
What more can I ask than to be in your grace?
A thousand days I waited
each day brimming hope in a hopeless heart.
A thousand burdens I weighted
each burden failing in shredding my love apart.
A thousand miles I distanced
each mile devouring upon my weariness
Howling of the houndsHowling of the hounds4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It wasn't late yet the night rejected all help that the moon submitted, draping it in the darkest of curtains available. Even in the scarcity of any ray, shone the red burning embers embedded in the sockets of hounds whose black coat blended with perfection in the night.
They hushed up as the escalating, rhythmic thud of hooves along the asphalt road reached them and their ears lowered while saliva dripping teeth tucked in. As the hounds sat down near the open gate entrance, the carriage passed through, adorned with the fine craftsmanship and decorated with fresh flowers and bells hanging from the quarter lights and ledge that lined the head of the carriage. It didn't meet the taste of the man that looked through his window at the guest's arrival.
A person with a thin mustache, wearing a white suit with a cloak that barely covered his fat, protruding stomach sat in the carriage, gazing with disdain at the whining hounds, scoffing; what purpose would such useless animals serve. He spat
Snow-girlShe is ice-cold, my snow-girl. Ice-cold, and snow-white, as beautiful as the frost-rimed spiderswebs lacing our tree. Ice-cold.Snow-girl3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I wrapped her in my coat - see? - but still she holds the Winter in her heart, clings to the ice and the snow and the frost and the steel-surgical-blue of the sky, blue as her eyes (roll back her eyelids, see for yourself. As blue as betrayal, my snow-girl's eyes), and she will not warm herself, no, not for all my asking.
I wrapped her in my coat, and I wound my scarf around her neck three times (you see? Three. Three is lucky. Three threes is magic, but my scarf is not that long), but still she holds the ice and the snow and the frost at the heart of her and she will not warm herself, no, not for all my pleading.
I wrapped her in my coat, and I wound my scarf around her neck, and I covered her feet (you see? Such tiny feet, my snow-girl has. So small. Like doll's feet, china-white), but still she holds the Winter in the heart of her, and she will not wake and