Victoria and her sister Elizabeth spent their Sundays in the shopping district of their small town, on what they called their "promenade," saying the word in the closest thing they could affect to a french accent.
They would start in cafes and sip teas or coffees, nibbling shortbread, or butter cookies. They would each attempt to look both beautiful but also very bored, and would study each other for comparison later on.
When their cups were empty, they would walk, slowly, and purposefully along the narrow cobblestone streets. Looking in the window display of the second-hand and conscription stores and...
Safura M Bhapavit had believed that the secret of eternal life had lain in discovering a relationship between religion and science. He had scoured his native India, from tropical south to mountainous north, in search of evidence that would lead him to the human being who most closely represented God, or Buddha, or however one choose to express it. The longing for this eternal life, Safura argued, must have its roots in the tangible and the real, despite centuries of confusion and myth.
He found Jane as he getting out of a taxi at Heathrow Airport, ready for the next...
Peasants.
We all are peasants.
I am a peasant, endlessly tilling the vast land of my master. I have a perpetual inclination to become a slave for lack of education.
Still, I am not ashamed of what I am. My legacy, which I have inherited from my forefathers, will go on for posterity's sake. My sons and daughters will continue to till land. But I guarantee that the land would be theirs to cultivate, for I am about to storm the walls of my master.
May God have mercy on his soul!
"I know you're up there," she screamed against the roar of waves crashing on the rocks. "And I know you can hear me. We have to talk, please come down."
A tugboat groaned out in the bay, and the gulls squawked overhead.
"It's bright enough today, you don't need to be up there.Please come down."
The wind whistled.
"Fine. Be that way. Make me stand down here and yell. I don't care. Actually, this is the perfect metaphor for our relationship. Me down here trying to talk to you and you boarded up in your useless tower. You think you...
Marie wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. Breathing heavily, she glanced impatiently at the bland, hospital door; its paint peeling around the edges; the hinges rusted. She knew that her sister was not in the hands of the most experienced doctors in town, but it was the closest hospital to home. Unsure of what to do with her hands, she interlaced her fingers, scrutinising the short, stumpy nails; a result of her anxious gnawing. Marie's mind wandered, as far as it could from the looming thought of her sister's fate. But within seconds, her thoughts were pulled right back...
When I swam across the ocean to my new home, I never guessed that I would meet the man of my dreams, or all the hassle we would encounter. As a mermaid, I was promised at birth to the son of another wealthy family that lived like mine. Humans were off limit, although it did happen every now and again, and caused terrrible rifts within the community.
Jack was so handsome, striking green eyes just like mine and long wavy hair. First saw him fishing at the pier when my hair got tangled in his line. What a surprise he...
"HELP"
"There's no hope," the monotone sound of Sarah's voice echoing throughout the silent forest. I could not see her face, but I knew she was angry. "We have to at least try." I am trying to stay positive, ignoring the heaviness on my chest, my sweaty palms, my racing heart. "Correction- you have to try," her voice now sounded like it was mocking me, "You're the one who got us lost, now you've got to figure it out."
Each breath that leaves a cloud of fog before seems heavier then the last. The moon that lights up the sapphire...
She hoped she was dreaming, but it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt unnervingly real as she and her belongings fell, the ground coming closer and closer, faster and faster. She remembered going to bed, and she HAD been asleep, but now…
It had to be a dream. Had to be. Where had she fallen from, if not? And where had all these… these… things come from? Three alarm clocks? A pineapple? She briefly wondered whether there were any Freudian links here, decided there probably were, considering the banana and teddy bears. Perfect essay fodder for her psychology degree....
I was on my way to Times Square to buy myself some coffee at Starbucks. I rested down for a little bit at one of the tables and noticed a man outside the window asking some people for loose change. I stared at my coffee and back at the man and I went outside and walked towards the man. He had scrawny, dirty hands and he looked like he hadn't bathe in weeks. I then asked him kindly if he has hungry. He had the brightest look in his eye and that toothy grin. He gladly accepted and we both...
The conversation lasted two words:
Why?
No.
This was the conversation that I had with myself every day. It always followed the question that I asked myself after waking up from the dreams of my foolish heart. At night, in sleep, I would dream about him and the way things could be if only life were different. We could be and do amazing things together. Every night I dreamt and every day I asked.
Why?
No.
The words I held back from this daily conversation were the ones that hurt the most. They, were the truth. They were the words...