This is the short story about the journey of three friends from plumstead to central london at 23/02/2015.
Friend No 1 Rohit Adhikari
Friend no. 2 Sumit Rajbhandari
Friend no. 3 Maheswor banjara
The journey was really great they went through the bus and explore all the scenarios and it was beautiful.
The sheep were at pasture. They stood, milling, queuing, just waiting for someone to wake them up. To show them their own cage, to let them know that they didn't have to be sheep anymore.
Were there even sheep cages? Pens, it was pens, sheep were kept in pens. Pens writing the manifesto, no typing, that would have been too simple. Ideas should be dragged from your mind, panicked and screaming.
He shook his head. Sometimes it was hard to think straight, to keep everything in order in his head. That was the price to be paid for thinking with...
I couldn't sleep with her next to me. The heat of her, the weight of her, the pressure of her next to me, none of it was what I had known before. I could barely believe she was there, breathing softly and quietly, but the signs of her seemed to be irrefutable proof.
I couldn't think with her next to me. Her brown hair splayed out on the pillow around her, curls and ringlets that covered her ears, ran down to her neck and then to her bare shoulders. Her presence, her pink lips parted just slightly, none of this...
Walking in the woods at this hour was not a good idea, he told to himself. It was dead silent with only the wind whispering between the trees. It was very dark with an eerie purple night sky. Then the sky exploded.
He had never seen a lightning in the colors of the rainbow. Such a thing did not exist. Lightnings also moved much faster, blink and you will miss it. This one moved from west, towards of him, like a highway in the sky made from light unfolding right before him. The lightning touched the ground a few meters...
My stomach felt like a balloon under my fingers. The cold gel pinned my thoughts onto the effort of not peeing. “The fetus sack is visualised”, the operator announced to no one in particular, startling me out of my penance. I looked up at him, then at the screen he was facing. The patches of grey kept moving, like clouds on a breezy day. A dot stood out. A tiny dot that seemed to throb. Both of us stared at it, though only one did with any knowledge.
I knew it was mine. I had made it, maybe the first...
"Following up from the fight we had last night Darren"
"I don't wanna talk about it Judy"
I can see the fear in Darren's eyes, i know he wants to tell me something, I just don't know what. His hands are trembling, while peeling the potatoes preparing for dinner. The look on his face is getting worrying. He suddenly falls to the floor, the peeler is down there with him. What did he do? What did I do? 911. PLease..
I am in Palm Springs the sun the haze the people I am in focus everything behind me is a blur an attractive sexy blur. I am in focus, focus with a lower case f. I want to tell you something I want to tell you what it feels like all hot and steamy the way chilled alcohol burns and tingles demands more my throat loose my toes free the smell of grass the smell of pools. I want to tell you something something about time about memory about thinking that things would never end never get bad I want...
When we go to work. We have memories of all kinds, from the good, the funny, the annoying. Just all kinds of memories that you will still remember as time goes on.
One of my recent memories from work was when one of my co-workers had scared my supervisor on purpose.
We were sitting at the desk when me and another co-worker of mine noticed her acting a bit suspicious, albeit in a funny way. When she hid under the desk, she put her finger to her lips telling us the "shush." Picking up the hint, we acted as if...
The words from the poem mirrored the scene in front of him.
"Two roads diverged in a wood," he recited aloud.
"Which one should I take," he thought as he stood at the junction of the two paths in front of him leading down the dark forest.
He had come out for a walk to clear his head. He closed his eyes and took a step forward and another and another...
Half an hour later, he stood in front of a giant tree. He looked up into its branches and a large pile of snow fell on him. He grabbed...
He had had that dream again. He had dreamed about that walk and the ice sculpture many times. But this was the first time, he had floated up above the forest.
"If I hadn't woken up, what would I have seen?" he wondered.
A month later, he had the same dream again. And this time, he floated above the forest and went higher and higher into the sky.
The earth below him shrunk and everything grew smaller until the forest was just a speck in the distance.
"George," he heard a voice calling. It was the same voice he had...