Old lady Darcy, getting a high five from the ladies. The tales that woman spins from the webs of her mind are a wonder. It makes me want to be like her when I get older, always the life of a crowd.
Walking past is Feisty Fanny. It seems her and Danny boy have had another of their fights. Three kids and no ring. I wonder what you’d say If you heard that about me mama. I guess we’ll cross that ocean when we get there.
The lovebirds at the corner are probably deciding over wedding things. I hear, blonde-Lady Janet says they won’t last cause their’s was a whirlwind romance. She’s over forty and never married, I think that speaks for Itself.
And then there’s me, still the phantom of every crowd. You always said, when I got older I’d be the flower in everyone’s garden. All I had to do is wait. Well, I sure am waiting mama, only thing, you’re not here to see it.
word count: 168 This is my very late response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge. Thank you @thestoryteller’sabode for such a wonderful picture.
It’s not often we get the pleasure of an Emily Dickinson’s poem without the metaphor or in depth meaning. Just plain ole simplicity with clear cut message. I was glad I came across the above words of hers on Pinterest this week.
We get so busy, writing, reading, working, making a living; we get carried away, trying to smoothen the rough tracks of our lives and all it takes sometimes, Is a smile on the face of one person to remind us to breathe, even if only for a second. All it takes, is a smile on the face of a stranger to get the wires in our brain to pause from it’s activity and let our face muscles relax to return the gesture. We know a kind word can do a lot, but forget that a smile can do a lot too.
Receiving a smile from a loved one makes us feel good, but from a stranger or someone we just met, it gives us something to think about all through the day. And I’m not talking about those creepy stalker smiles we receive, I mean genuine smiles. When we stay too long at the cashier but the next person on the counter just smiles rather get angry, when we act ridiculously clumsy in public and receive a smile from the stranger across- that’s the kind I’m talking about.
I know, it’s that time of the year when the deadlines are looming. We’ve made a resolution to complete our novel and we’re only a few chapters through the first draft, exams are around the corner for some and end of the year activities are driving us nuts, bottom line is- we’re red neck busy. I just want us to remember that it takes little to smile. And when we do receive one, let’s try our best to pass it on, we never know who might need it. I know, a smile wouldn’t help to finish a novel, but it will help you feel better while completing it.
This post is in response to Writer’s Quote Wednesday. It’s great to be back blogging again and thank you for your wishes. 🙂
“You fell in love with grandma after marrying her?”
That’s right son.
“But how?” Dave was Flabbergasted.
It was our first anniversary. I arrived home as the sky turned deep red. I met Ivette sitting on the porch, wearing the most beautiful red gown with a bow ribbon on her hair and I knew she was expecting a sunset dinner with roses to top off.
“Well, wasn’t that your plan?” Dave butted in, curious.
Don’t interrupt son. Anyway, I walked up to your grandma and produced two tickets to a weekend cruise on the Deutsch yellow ship. I was expecting a full blown tantrum and another excuse for us to fight when…
Because your grandpa was a jerk and wanted to prove arranged marriages don’t work. Anyway, I was expecting a tantrum, when Ivette surprised me. She kicked off her heels and asked,
“how lightly should I pack?”
I knew then, she was the one, because your grandma would give up everything to avoid being on water, she was that petrified of it.
word count: 175. This is my Response to Flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. Each week, a photo is provided and you a write a 150 (+/- 25) word story based on it. Thank you Sonya for this week’s image. If you’d like to participate or simply read flash fictions, click on the highlighted link above.
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with Joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty everyday. And if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes’.
It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from inside when all else fails.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
This is my submission for Writer’s Quote Wednesday. The above poetry/Prose is titled THE INVITATION and was written by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. I hope this week’s submission inspires you as much as it did me. I’m not going to add any more words to the above piece because I believe, the prose on its own speaks for itself. Till next week and have an inspiring weekend.
IMAGE CREDIT: creations magazine.com
The past few weeks took it’s toll on me, in a good way. I felt something I haven’t felt before, it was magical to say the least; unexpected and wonderful. I’ve always said I love to write but this time, it was different. I sit at a table, tea In hand and I feel it in every nerve cell in my body, that Joy which I’ve only ever read about. That in-depth passion which some writers talk about- I actually felt it. And it’s an amazing feeling.
I’ve spent the last two weeks smiling and thanking God for the gift of writing. For the first time, I feel in tune with writing- like it’s something, I never want to live without. There is a point in every writer’s life where they know for a fact, there is no going back from writing. I feel I have reached that stage, and If not, then this is a start for me.
This feeling, it’s not a burst of inspiration where you feel like you can go on days writing. It’s writing a brief piece, reading it back and smiling, feeling contented. It’s a tree of Joy sprouting within as you read every word appearing on the screen/paper and at that moment, you know, this writing- you can’t stop it even if you wanted to. And as tight as your schedule is, you make time for it. You make time for writing cause you know, you are a writer. That’s all there is to it.
This is my submission for Silver Threading’s writer’s quote Wednesday. You are welcome to participate with a writers quote which you find inspiring. The more, the merrier, just click on the link above.
She had never been whole. She was a collage of uniquely designed pieces. With each person she trusted, she gave a piece. With each one she loved, she gave a piece. They never really knew her, only the pieces she let them see.
Some were handed a glimpse of her childhood, stories of her pranks; some her laughter, the events which made her smile; a few, her passions- the pieces which lit her eyes; a minute, she gave her sorrows, the memories that tug at her heart.
And some, she swore to take her grave, the pieces no one knew she had. The dark patches, the mystery behind who she was. She thought it a burden to lay it on people; she could barley handle it, how could they. Those pieces she kept close to her.
Those dark pieces, were the borders of the intricately designed puzzle of “her” without which she could never really be figured.
And she smiled knowing, although soon enough, the abnormal cells within her would win, the pieces she left with the ones she loved would illuminate her memories. She gave them the light she needed them to see.
Each person a different piece, a different memory, a different reflection of history, a different light. She was a uniquely designed puzzle.
IMAGE CREDIT: Gallerygogopix.net
Randoms by a Random clocked one full year yesterday and I just want to scream out loud- “We did it!!!” This blog would not have been possible without every single one of you who liked, commented, re-blogged, followed and encouraged me. This time last year, I wrote my very first blog post and now, here I am with over 670 followers, an amazing network of bloggers and some wonderful people I am happy and proud to call my friends.
It’s been an amazing ride and journey. Through blogging, I fell in love once again with writing and I know now for a fact, I cannot go back to “not writing”. If anyone had told me someday I would be able to write a story and Flash fiction (which I thought was extremely difficult), I wouldn’t have believed them. I owe it to you guys, (particularly Priceless Joy and Joy roses) who encouraged me to write those stories anyhow, and now, I can’t stop writing them. Thank you.
Not to make this long and boring, but really thank you so much guys for helping me to fall in love with writing once again and for keeping this blog afloat. It’s all because of you.
PS: Khadijah I see you sneaking up on my stats ;). Thanks for the encouragement girl, I love you and you know it.
The highlight of my blogging year is this interview I conducted for writing201 of a dear friend of mine struggling with depression. It hit close to home and I regard it as one of my favorites. For my recent followers here’s the link: Living with depression and beating the odds
I would love to hear from you, what has been your favorite post so far or which of my categories do you look forward to the most?
They say that life is a highway,
And it’s milestones are the years;
And now and then there’s a toll gate,
Where you buy your way with tears;
It’s a rough road and a steep road,
And it stretches broad and far;
But at last it leads to a golden town,
Where golden houses are.
-Joyce Kilmer (roofs)
Ah, this little verse of Joyce Kilmer embodies a lot of my favorite things. It talks about Life, the potholes we find in between, appreciation of tears, and at long last “a happy ending”, not to forget also, it is my favorite genre, “Poetry”.
For this week’s Writers quote, I chose this poem because of all of the above reasons and also it contains a reminder that we all need to hear every once in a while- It’s not the end until you’ve made it. Until you see those golden houses signifying the end of the road, all other things are just “toll gates” which need to be crossed. Though it might not be easy, crossing and arriving at that golden town would be so worth it.
How many times have we been midway through writing a book/story and then thought “what in world am I writing”. Worst case scenario, it’s probably the story plot that’s got some loop holes and not exactly the writing skills. Saying, “I’m done with writing, I can’t write” is very easy, but going with the harder, “nah, the next story I write will definitely kick some ass”, might actually be the best decision ever.
I know it’s easier said than done, but the truth is, the more the potholes, the more bumps on the road; the brighter, shinier and more beautiful the golden houses at the end will be.
“Where on earth is Nigel”
Frustrated, Maura sought refuge under the red umbrellas present at Lancaster lake. It wasn’t as much that the weather was hot but rather the sun rays melting her pancaked face which bothered her. She looked at her watch, 3:35pm, “Nigel better have a good reason for keeping me waiting”.
Just then, Maura noticed a ripple at the center of the waterbody. Her eyes widened as she realized splashes of water were erupting from the ripple. She took a few steps towards it when a floating box caught her eye.
At the top of the box was a banner on which was boldly written:
“I know you don’t like cheesy,
I’ll try to make this cool;
Sorry for keeping you waiting-
Maura please please say I do”
It was the worst poem Maura had ever read but even that didn’t stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks. She screamed at the top of her lungs to Nigel who appeared at the other side of the lake,
“I thought you’ll never ask!”
This post is In submission to the flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. Word count: 175 words. We are provided with a photo every week on which a story of 150 (give or take 25 words) is required. If you’d like to participate or read awesome flash fiction stories, just click on the link above. 🙂
The skies erupt,
The heavens are crying;
Oh but tears of Joy-
It’s a wonderful day.
The earth’s agog,
They’re dampened with moisture;
The drought is gone-
It’s a wonderful day.
The flowers, dancing
Swaying to the rhythm;
As tears are falling,
From the Sky, making music;
A divine beauty,
As the flowers are blooming;
A blessing given-
It’s a wonderful day.
The skies erupt,
In splashes making rhythm;
As the tears, they fall-
It’s a wonderful day.