May 30: Letter

Original photograph by Tristan Kube

From Tristan Kube:
The ink that helped you write that letter, blotted out my sky forever.
Am I just a semblance of myself now, as much a lover as I'm a misanthrope?
It’s been twelve years and counting and I still write you these letters that are fated never to leave the clandestine confines of a tin-box.

From Priyanthie de Silva:
My daughter promised to write , when she left home. I did not hear from her, until a month later when I watched the TV program of an attack on a group of Peace Corp workers in Angola. There were no survivors. My daughter did not even send a letter, to understand the reason why.

From @Shi_dreams:
With her legs dangling on the low wall by her gate, six year old Kree sat waiting anxiously for the postman to arrive. He would come bearing her first letter from her first pen pal. The tinkle of his bell sounded as he rounded the corner. Eyes shining with anticipation, she jumped off the wall.

From @shamsmakkiya:
21-11-1988
A ransom letter arrived.
He ignored.

22-11-1988
It was a moonless night.
The clock struck 11.
The main switch was shut off.
Armed men surrounded the entire place.
The family members were lined-up outside.
Seconds elapsed.
Nothing left but the immovable possessions.
Silent cries left unheard.

18-05-2009
Three decades is too long for justice!

From @sharasekaram:
It was a week later when the police gave her the letter that had been clutched in his hand, when the car had hit him. And along with it, the police officer would explain, hidden deep in his pocket - was a beautiful diamond ring, with their names engraved on the inside.

From @gillian.nair:
I dolled myself up for him.i had to look like the same girl he fell in love with and wanted to marry. I read his very first letter over and over again. He promised he'll always be mine to have and to hold. I was alone now as he lay in a casket.

From Broken:
She was washing out the curry-stained frying pan, humming a recent Bollywood song, when the bell rang. She wiped her hands dry on her sari and opened the door.

Two men in military uniform stood at the doorstep, their expressions grave. As one of them held out an official-looking letter letter, the other one began to speak: “Mrs. Shankar, we are very sorry to inform you…”

From @AntontCF:
“to the letter you will follow, you hear me?” he was screaming at the top of his lungs, how could she not hear. What crime did she commit, she was young, naďve maybe, but she had every right to chose her man, but to his wrongly place pride, it would hinder everything, spell only The End.

From @Mari_deSilva:
She couldn’t get herself to open it. Maybe it was best not to know. Deep inside she knew he was never hers to keep. Forty years later at her death-bed, her nephew found a paper clutched in her hands - her face in a gentle smile. It read “marry me Lizzie. It’s always been you.”

From PennyKinned:
At first, the symbols were meaningless squiggles to her, fragments of a secret code. The children giggled – a grown woman who couldn’t read! She wanted to run away, but this was too important.

When she finally cracked it, A to Z, it was like being born again. Finally, she could read her son’s newspaper articles.

From @wikifreakz:
31.05.2125

Dear Sir/Madam,

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

The bearer, Amigobot, Version 2.0, has been my buddy-bot since 01.02.2122. He has a proven track record and healed my depression during numerous occasions.

I have no hesitation in recommending him as the best buddy robot.

Yours truly
*signature*

Ivanchev Cuttinsky

May 29: Eighteen

From @jonnyjujubes:
Goodbye (Eighteen)

Eighteen ‘til I die they said
At Eighteen I did cry
Eighteen, you’re a man they said
I have yet to wonder why
Eighteen, your life ahead
Oh what a life have I
Eighteen, maybe I have lived
I guess it is my time
Eighteen, too young some said
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

From @sharasekaram:
Eighteen days. Just over 2 weeks. It can seem like forever when you are waiting for the rest of your life to begin. In eighteen days you will don the white dress, hide your face with the veil, and walk up the aisle. And from that day life will change – and the future will begin.

From @bhagsy:
I only had to sit for 10 minutes longer. But I could barely contain my excitement and kept looking at the clock. It would strike eighteen hundred hours soon! I was going to see my man after ages and I just could not wait! The only thing I could do was to wish that the time went faster.

From Priyanthie de Silva:
Eighteen holes of golf was what he played daily. It was a 'must' for him.His brother said that it must be to escape from his wife! Could it be true? After all his wife was known to be 'perfect' amongst the family circles. Strange how even perfection could have flaws, for some.

From @shamsmakkiya:
Plight of a cloned man from the long-term preserved 18th century gene.

"The only time I envy you people is when I look at those square shaped device that each one of you carry in your hands. If only I had it then, I wouldn't have lost my sweetheart." *Weeps*

From @atticus900:
I remember when eighteen
was an impossibility
when life was circumscribed
by a dusty playground
forty one kids
in a classroom
and a ride home
in our old Peugeot 404.

From @Mari_deSilva:
All throughout her childhood she was told, “you can, once you’re 18.” So she ploughed through her adolescence, endured her teens and finally made it. She turned 18. Now 60, she looks back remorsefully at the childhood she raced through, desperate for just one memory of her youth to cling to. But there were none.

From @Shi_dreams:
Bryan Adams’ classic song, “Eighteen til I die”, played on loop on his iPod as he walked to school. He was about to turn eighteen and graduate high school. All his friends were gearing up for college, but he did not have the luxury for such plans. He had his siblings to provide for.

From @hayahz:
The year has 18 months
1 month of sanity and 8 months of vanity
6 months of retroaction and 2 months of retrospection
And 1 month of pondering why we all exist.
That is, in a world that has 18 months.
Earth has 12 months, minus the retroaction.
Thus most things done has dire consequences.  

From Saumya Fernando:
Eighteen Eighteen year olds stood in rows of eight holding tiny tins that contained eatables of all sorts, eight in a tin which they ate in bliss.

From @wikifreakz:
Amen -18: An Epic!

'Yea (161), Nay (17)'
The controversial testament had been amended..

"The removal of the ‘two- term’ barrier enhances the supremacy of
demo..-," Lucifer continued his impromptu.

'HE smiled cheerfully. The tenure is secured. No more tug-o-war whatsoever.

N.B:- The readers are advised to read the remaining chapters in the newspapers..

From @PennyKinned:
“Are you sure?”
“It has to be this week, bro. You know that. After Sunday, we’ll be tried as adults.”
“She is something, isn’t she?”
“Let’s find out. Here’s to an early eighteenth birthday celebration, bro.”

The twins slid sharp knives out of their pockets and started walking towards the rear window of the house.

May 28: Slap

From @BatmanEarth12:
'What are you doing?'
'I am calling the cops. We can say that it was an accident.'
'NO! are you insane? My fingerprints are all over her body.'
'But we cant leave her like this!'
*Slap*
'Get a grip man. Do you want to sit in the electric chair?'
'No'
'Then help me get rid of the body, and destroy all evidence'

From chaMP:
I was lounging in the sun taking in the rays so calm and chill, I saw the little one dancing like a lily in the autumn breeze smiling happy and gay, she came by with flowers in her head, then it came the gouging wave so dark slapped me awake, awake from my dream.

From @Gillian.nair:
Dear mama.
He slapped me today. We fought about the same things you and dad used to fight about. I swore I wouldn't marry someone like daddy. So I killed him. I took a carving knife and plunged it in to his neck. I just called the cops,but I feel relieved. 
Love you ma, xx.

From @shamsmakkiya:
The letter read: "My wounds are still alive."
The contents gave a hard slap on his cruel face.
Apologies appeared bleak and gloomy.
Fake promises murdered themselves.
Remorse haunted his sadistic being which eroded his life inch by inch.
*She lived in peace*
Proverb- As you sow, so shall you reap.

From @sharasekaram:
My cheek was still burning from the resounding slap you delivered. It contained all the hurt, anger and pain I know I had put you through. When your palm made contact with my cheek I knew – no amount of physical pain c0uld ever account for the rip up shreds of your heart that I created.

From Priyanthie de Silva:
It seemed like an avuncular slap at first,until he did it each time he passed her by. Appeared innocuous enough,but she began to feel uncomfortable when he began to rub against her, as if by accident.Should she report him? They would not believe it of a man old enough to be her father.

From @wikifreakz:
PAL'S SLAP: A PALINDROME

"Do not step on pal!
Nor even yaw apart!
Emit no evil flow.
Dim it, O’ boss,
Ya slap ‘em never..
Even me.."
Pal says:
"Sob, O’ timid wolf!
Live on time.
Trap a way never!
On lap
No pets to nod!"

From @PennyKinned:
Yes, yes, I know what they say these days. Children need love, encouragement and approval, not beatings. I also know this – if my old man hadn't given me that resounding slap when I was 15, I would probably be food for worms right now. Make no mistake, budding drug-dealers can use a slap or two.

From @Mari_deSilva:
At times I wish I could slap you just so I’d know you were alive. That I know you can still feel pain. That there’s still life behind that steely exterior of yours. Sometimes I wish I could slap myself for even giving a shit.

May 23-24: Fury

From @sharasekaram:
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”. When you break her heart and you think you have taken every part of her and walked away – that is when she becomes her most dangerous. Like a phoenix she will rise from the ashes – beautiful, furious and seeking revenge. This time she has nothing to lose.

From @Mari_deSilva:
Beating their breasts, whilst frenziedly breaking coconuts outside the Kovil, I realized the fury in a mother’s pain. Hearing Nimalaruban’s mother’s lament, I realized the despair in a mother’s pain.  A mother setting aside a plate of rice for her son who’s been MIA for 6 years, I realized the anguish in a mother’s pain.

From @shamsmakkiya:
1998
"I got through my exams dad."
Dad: *Smiled*

2000
"I have been selected for the university dad."
Dad: *Tears of joy rolled down his cheeks*

Dad returns from abroad after six years.

"I lied you dad." *In hallucination*
Dad: *Disappointment and fury blanketed his soul*

2002-2013
The physically weakened dad got addicted to anti-depressants.

From Tristan Kube:
He said it again.. this time even louder. I was only ten.. just a week gone since I’d seen my mother buried. To him it was just a habitual slur, not one directed to mortar down my heart. But it was too late, a blind fury had already risen from the soles of my feet..

From @PaviliciousK:
People scurry for shelter. Mother Earth raises her voice.

I raise my arms to her beautiful destruction.She humbles me; drags me to my knees; exemplifies my insignificance. I dare not have pride, arrogance.

Shower me with humility and humble me with this show of power­ the ocean, winds and skies all exploding at once.

From Shemali (theshadowseeker):
The injustice cut like a serrated blade that tore the skin leaving jagged edges. No one had the right to take her child away from her. Not even her own mother. Sixteen. Too young, they had insisted. The tears had long dried,  replaced by this cold seething internal vial of fury.

From @wikifreakz:
He forgot their wedding anniversary.
The entire evening was full of thorny remarks.
He flew into a fury.
'What the hell..,' slapped her.
She burst into tears.

Happiness gone miles away.
*
After two days of ceasefire, he received the pregnancy test results:
'POSITIVE!'

No words spoken.. Hugged her solemnly..

Now happiness seems a smile away!

From chAMP:
Innocent they seem downed in pearly whites,
Innocent they are doing the deeds of good for now
The look in the eye
The smile in the face
Taking one more step ahead
Do more good. See that, stabbing the back..
Smile more wide and hear the cry
Heart oh heart burns…. Fury Blasphemy this is!!  

May 22: Gossip

From @sharasekaram:
The barbed whispers floating around never stop hurting. Over time the vicious words from those who gossip become pin-pricks as opposed to agony filled stabs – but on some level the pain is always there. You never forget. You never really forgive. And you fight not to crumble. You can’t. You won’t. They won’t win.

From @bhagsy:
They gossiped, sitting at the back of the office. Hiding behind files and doors. They didn't work. Not really. They just sat there and spoke incessantly. It was their 'work'. I ask my friend, do they sleepy peacefully at night. Work, they hardly do. Gossip, they always have to do.

From Shemali (theshadowseeker):
The guests were seated. Dressed in their best, immersed in their gossip. 
"..date brought forward.."
"..visited her doctor."
"..her belly does look a bit round..pregnant?"
"..shame really"
I smile at the bride and hope that it hides the fact that I know. I had seen the medical report. 
Advanced cancer. Prognosis: 6 months

From @PaviliciousK:
Meh, I heard from Dharini, who heard from her sister’s son’s girlfriend. Apparently, Shamini was hanky-panky-fying with Anjalika’s fiance. Anjalika found out, and the women had a roaring bloody fight right in the middle of Cinnamon Grand. One of them ended up in the fountain and the other one was escorted out by hotel security!!!”

From @wikifreakz:
Gossip: Grease demons are in action..
Source: Unspecified
¤
Gossip: Number of UFO sightings have been reported..
Source: Anonymous
¤
Gossip: 'Unlimit Debug' showrooms sell infertility lingerie..
Source: Unspecified.
¤

FACT:
If rulers wanna change our focus
They just play some prank and fake us
With Grease man chasing
With UFO tracing
And even with some 'Hocus Pocus'!

From @atticus900:
Gossip infused Kerengapokuna village
like the lifeblood of some giant organism,
holding together the ramshackle
houses, sparse gardens,
motley denizens...
It flowed
over creeper-covered rusting fences,
on pauses during a trundle
along dusty,winding
Singha road, across
unpainted walls
stained
in patterns by the rain.

From @shamsmakkiya:
"Fire!"
laid a charred body on the blackened floor.
Gossips diffused virally.
He got away scot free.
Legally he was proved to be innocent.
News: A mentally retarded woman committed suicide.

From @Mari_deSilva:
The Evolution of Gossip…
“Have you heard…….?”
“No, way! Impossible.”
“I’m telling you men, trust me. My source is very reliable.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! Why would I lie?”
“I would never have thought it men.”
“I know. I couldn’t believe it myself.”
“Now thinking about it, I’m not too surprised.”
“Yeah, true. Me neither.”

May 21: Guilt

From Shemali (theshadowseeker):
The house is in shambles, barely visible among the overgrown weeds and ivy. My footfalls are heavy, reluctant almost. The rust of twenty years falls away as the door swings open. An animal screams. I crumple to the floor as it overcomes me. The ivy is disappearing. Revealing white walls with one splash of red.

From @Pamiya89:
La Monte-à-regret (The Regretful Climb) – The Guillotine
Last steps i take..
Last wisps of air..
into my rusted lungs
Last glimpse of the eyes..
like a dying star..
My mistake, My feelings
Led me to tread these dreaded steps
The rusted wooden stench..
The stench of death
Surrounds my woeful soul
One last time..
Just like the for the soul I stole..

From Musical Chairs:
Each took a seat to form a circle under the warm lighting of the room. There were faces familiar, worn out, bright eyes, and complete strangers.

"To live without hate is to live without blame. To live without shame is to live without guilt. Who are you to claim responsibility?"

"Who are you to avoid it?"

From @gillian.nair:
Upon entering my room, his fingers slowly traced my lips, while the other hand grabbed my hair. In an instant his tongue moved along mine, hungrily tasting me. My stomach turned. A mixture of guilt and butterflies overwhelmed me. Downstairs, my sister yelled for her fiancé to hurry. He left the room, without turning back.

From @bhagsy: 
She was worried that her friend would find out. It was an accident; one that really shouldn't have happened. They were drunk and had spent the night together, she and her friend's husband. She couldn't bare to face her friend and it was this guilt that was growing them apart.

From @PaviliciousK:
Even as she reaches her hand out she knows he is gone. She watches him sink into the dark abyss; a cold sick feeling grows in the pit of her stomach. Why didn’t she offer to take turns? Why didn’t she make room for them both?

Survivors Guilt: the true story of Jack and Rose.

From @shamsmakkiya:
It speaks so very well, but it never thinks of the consequences. It blames, criticizes, ignores, insults and gives all sorts of mental pressure. Yet it neither regrets nor feels guilt. It sure will exist till the hour comes to an end. We are bound to live among it.

"Least bother!"

From @wikifreakz:
The sidewalk
from the Old British bridge to St.Anthony's..

Being a passer-by
I've never seen her alone,
but with some stray puppies..

I could throw nothing at her,
even a 2/= coin,
inscribed in all three National Languages:
'Year 2000- Shelter for All!'

Now feeling guilty..
I've just exploited the poem hidden in her..

From Pubudu Sachithanandan (@atticus900):
I hit a bump on the road
while cycling this morning
in the rain.
My dictaphone flew
clattered behind me, I
found it in a puddle
watched the digital read-out die
with my stories inside.
Leaving home is a bit like that
except its no accident
You fly, you decide
to leave your stories behind.

From @Shi_dreams:
“Don’t you want to make your parents happy?” asked her mother.

“You want me to make you happy?!” she replied incredulously. “I’ll be married, to whoever this guy is, for the rest of my life! Shouldn’t I be happy?! No, mama, you can’t try that line on me and try to make me feel guilty.”

From @Mari_deSilva:
She was his constant, his “wing-(wo)man”, his confidante, nursing him through many a brutal heartbreak. She was the keeper of his secrets. Not once did she utter her love. As he bitterly discovered that falling in love was mere youthful fantasy, and “true love” non-existent, how could he refuse her? She had always been there.

55-Word Story Contest: Winners!!!

Thank you to all those who participated for their wonderful stories. Also, a big thanks to our enthusiastic readers and voters :)

The grand winner of our 55-word contest is….[DRUMROLL]…. Shemali (theshadowseeker)! *applause*

Aaaand, in second place we have Pubudu Sachithanandan (@atticus900)! *applause*

Here are the winning entries once again.

From Shemali (theshadowseeker):
A drop of sweat falls to the ground as he digs. Just a bit more. Thud. The sound of the shovel against the coffin. Well sealed, but he was used to this, the smell too. A week old maybe? Yes! His sources had been right. Mouth pried open, the false teeth with roots of gold.

Author and his cousin eating sausages stuck
on twigs and cooked in a fireplace in Hatton 
(Author has permission to use this photo.)

From Pubudu Sachithanandan (@atticus900): 
There’s old gold in them thar hills.
Under the tea bushes of Hatton
where I played as a boy.
On guava trees where we made tree houses.
In the smoky crackle of bonfire twigs.
The dull gleam of memories
half-hidden now
by a man’s burden
of mortgages, obligations, fears
and the velvet dust of years.



Note: We will be back with a new word tomorrow. Stay tuned!

55-Word Story Contest Entries: Gold

We are so very happy to present the stellar 55-word story entries using the word "gold", in order of submission!

How do I vote?

Please cast your vote for your favourite author by sending us an email at srilankastories@gmail.com or sending us a Direct Message on Twitter @SriLankaDiaries . Please DO NOT publicly tweet your votes or put them in the comments section. (Although general comments about multiple stories are welcome.)

One person, one vote. (And no, you cannot vote for yourself :p)

Voting is open all weekend, till Sunday midnight!

"GOLD" VIGNETTES:

From Shemali (theshadowseeker):
A drop of sweat falls to the ground as he digs. Just a bit more. Thud. The sound of the shovel against the coffin. Well sealed, but he was used to this, the smell too. A week old maybe? Yes! His sources had been right. Mouth pried open, the false teeth with roots of gold.

From Poomigal:
If only I saw that gold wedding ring on his finger. But why did he lie to me, leaving a part of him growing in me? Every Friday I sit at the same place I met him first hoping he will come by to say hi and tell me that it wasn’t lust but love.

Sonia
(Author has permission to use this photo.)

From Pavi Kulatunga:
Sonia glittered as she whirled the little black girl around the room to the infectious rhythm of the Afro-Cuban drum. Her name, “Gold”, matched her fiery personality. Her eyes danced; aligned with the girls fast swaying body. Her excitement was contagious- this little dollop of sun, a mother of two. She lit up the night.


From @sharasekaram:
It’s simple, round and gold. It’s not fancy, nor large. But it fits perfectly on the fourth finger of my left hand – telling the world that my heart has been taken. My world is no longer just me. I am entwined in another, creating a legacy and a life. I am part of a whole.

From @HalikAzeez:
"Yes putha, come with me, don't cry ah. I'll take you to dada."
Tiny, screwed up eyes looked up at him, suspicious. And he grinned, his teeth glinting flashes of gold.

From @TheRoundedCube:
“How much?”
“One kilo”
“One kilo of what?”
“Gold”
“What?!”
“Gold”
“Gold?!”
“Gold!!”
“Ok, I’ll get you”
“When?”
“Tomorrow – I'll get it somehow”
“Make it quick”

“I have the gold”
“Show me”
“I need to test it”

“Exactly 1 kilo, we shall accept it”
“Thank you”
“Wait here”

“Ok, you will be the next president”

Author and his cousin eating sausages stuck
on twigs and cooked in a fireplace in Hatton 
(Author has permission to use this photo.)

From Pubudu Sachithanandan (@atticus900):
There’s old gold in them thar hills.
Under the tea bushes of Hatton
where I played as a boy.
On guava trees where we made tree houses.
In the smoky crackle of bonfire twigs.
The dull gleam of memories
half-hidden now
by a man’s burden
of mortgages, obligations, fears
and the velvet dust of years.

From Priyanthie de Silva:
She’s worth her weight in gold!” my children used to say, for my culinary skills, my baby-sitting skills etc. Now I sit alone in a barren snow-field, awaiting to be the vultures dinner. It was the custom you see, to abandon old people who had outlived their usefulness thus. That’s the cycle of life!

From Saumya Fernando:
She hurriedly stuffed the contents into an old biscuit tin. Looking around the makeshift apartment, she quickly hid it under the soft white sand, covering it with a cooking pot. Hastily smudging the red smear on her receding hairline she realized with horror, the gold wedding band. Too late before the hyenas come for her.

(Author has permission to use this photo.)

From Tristan Kube:
From the bowels of desolate wastelands there emerged a sable gold – a gold that would eventually govern all nations and alter the lives of every Homo Sapien conceitedly parading on their hind legs. This baneful combination will ultimately determine the fate of every species in this precious global hub we all call home.



From @Mari_deSilva:
Day after day she silently laboured. Her toil long been taken for granted. Day after day he brought home the bacon. It was his rightful duty after all. They provided for their oblivious young, and watched them run in frantic pursuit of riches. If only the young had realized the gold they had left behind.

From @wikifreakz:
"Eureka!"
Mission Au-197, a top secret project of CERN succeeded at last.

The team was working on a cryptic alchemy manuscript:
'Gold Transmutation'

They invented a device that separates any substance into molecules.

Garner's happy tears rolled down on cheeks.
A drop fell on the device.

'BANG!'

Oops.. Sodium, Chlorine, Oxygen & Hydrogen were separated!

From @PennyKinned:
Laden down by her heavy sari and jewellery, she made her way slowly to the pandal. As she reached the sacred marriage tent, she saw her to-be-husband’s eyes light up, taking in her solid gold necklaces and bangles. “Not once did he look at my face,” she explained later, after the leaving-him-at-the-pandal confusion had subsided.

55-Word Story Contest, May 16-17: "gold"

Storytellers, we kick off our May 55-word story contest today!

The word: "gold".

The prize: a bookstore voucher worth LKR 1000 AND a state-of-the-art ego boost!
The restriction: you MUST use the word in the story.
Word limit: up till 55 words (hyphenated words will be counted as one word).
Photos: you are welcome to include an original, related photograph with your story.
Deadline: midnight of May 17 (Friday).
Voting type: secret ballot.

Voting will be open throughout May 18-19 (Saturday and Sunday). Please read all the entries and vote for your favourite by sending us a DM on Twitter or emailing us at srilankastories@gmail.com. Voting will be strictly confidential. (And no, you can't vote for yourself :p)

Do spread the word! The more entries and votes we get, the more exciting the competition!

Happy writing!

May 14: Ancestor

GALLE
Photograph by @atticus900 (a Muslim man who
likely speaks Tamil & Singhalese in a fort made by the 
Portuguese & developed by the Dutch and the English)

From Pubudu Sachithanandan (@atticus900):

In Serendib
skeins of lineage mixed up
like a ball of wool
after a cat went postal.
Sinhala kings who wrote in Tamil and
had South Indian brides. Buddhists
who worship at Kataragama
in Hindu shrines. Eurasians &
matrilineal Moors...

So don’t tell me about the pureness of ancestry.
We’re mongrels, you and I.




From India, with Love:
"Appa, why can't we go back?"

They had been moving between the homes of distant relatives; she no longer believed  they were really her uncles and auntses.

"Summa iru," her mother snapped.

Later she would find her father outside, his form lit under the moon.

"Sampur is no longer ours to go back to."

From @sharasekaram:
The greatest fears, hopes and dreams of humans are etched in the stories that they tell. They sing them, speak them, learn them from their ancestors and live them. Their stories create worlds, preserve them and destroy them. They hold lessons, secrets, beliefs and sometimes the truth. And that my dears is the true magic.

From Priyanthie de Silva:
"Leave a worthy legacy for posterity" my parents said. Considering the fact that amongst my ancestors were alcoholics, drug addicts & murderers, it did not seem as they were overly concerned about the legacy they left us. At conception, the blue-print of our lives are in place. What we do thereafter is inevitable.

From @shamsmakkiya:
A TRIBUTE TO US BY OUR INHERITORS - 2120

We are indeed proud to own your adventurous  blood. You have done so much that now we could abide peacefully in Mars and Moon. Wish you are here to witness our great NANO TSAR BOMBA that devastated the incendiary land of yours. Hats off to our ancestors!

From Pavi Kulatunga:
Wind swooshed through the branches of the dancing oak, as the white light of the twilight faded. i knelt before the stone; the oncoming storm spoke through the voice of my ancestors. I heard them. “Though the storm rages loud and strong, it will calm, quiet; the damage restored, the broken healed. Life never ends.”

From Jonathan Vittachi (@jonnyjujubes):
See the difference is... For every member of Nalin's family that has accomplished something great, Shane felt like he had a relative who was a proper letdown. He felt that he had to work that much harder to prove to himself, and Nalin, that he is someone. That he is worth it.

From Tristan Kube:
When this sojourn nears its end and I one day stay awake at night, staring up  back into the past; I hope I’d have done my best to unwind (as much as I can) this mess that has been passed down to us in the guise of urbanization and development by our myopic forebears. 

From @wikifreakz:
"Our ancestors believed that sacrificing a 'thun kuludul daruva'* for Bahiravaya is an essential ritual in untying treasure portals. In 2012...-" HE pressed PAUSE button.

The Secretary said, "Finding 1-1-1 DNA won't be a big deal. We've got every citizen's genography in our archives, from 2125.."

[*Roughly translated, 'being the first child for three generations']

From @PennyKinned:
The new school stood nearly empty on its first day.

The spirits are angry, the villagers said, refusing to send their children. It should not have been built on the ancient ancestral burial ground.

The next morning, hundreds of flowers surrounded the building – they had bloomed overnight.

The school was packed on its second day.


From Daiyaan (@nazthewiz):
Our ancestors, could have been nice people, who were wary of their, deeds.

Or, perhaps they were malicious.

Truth, at any given era, is always buried too deep.

Even, whatever we say, our ancestors could be the best of people, cuz today the malicious are outnumbering the good.

We are indeed, fine ancestors in the making.


@Mari_deSilva:
How could they go so wrong? What has become of the wisdom they bestowed upon us? If they could see us now, would they not weep? To see what we have become, is it not to see their lives’ pains come to nothing? Do we feel no remorse? No despair? Who even are we anymore?

May 13: Ring

From Nihal De Silva:
I can hear the phone ring in the background. I hear it through a haze of smoke. Most days are spent thus; in a whirl of cigarettes and drugs. How can one person create such havoc? I put my life on hold for her. She kicked me in my face. Should I care a 'Tinker's damn?'

From @sharasekaram:
I give you a single ring. One ring to tell you that for every day til eternity you are mine. One ring to show you that we are perfect, round, complete. We are halves of a whole – we are one. One ring to bind us to each other in perfect harmony. One ring for love.

From Shemali (theshadowseeker):
He planned this day for weeks. The roses lay at his feet. It would be one of two final responses. Nothing would be the same, ever again. Could he handle a no? Head in his hands, ring in his pocket, he waits. The phone, one ring. No. She did not make it. 

From @bhagsy:
We were sitting on the beach, a cloth spread over the sand & with wine in our hands. The night was beautiful. The sky glistened with stars. Taking my hand he kept a ring on my palm & asked me to marry him, saying that I was the star in his life. I was speechless!

From Jonathan Vittachi (@jonnyjujubes):
To be honest... It really doesn't matter. We might not be legally allowed to get married but I don't see why our commitment to each other is any less important. So what if I can't call you husband? 

I'll still give you a ring and ask you to be mine forever.

From Saumya Fernando:
If only I had even an ounce of an idea of how much of a burden this ring would bring me; Tears, heartaches, disappointments. It’s not you. You are my breath of fresh air, most of the time at least. It’s everything else that comes with it. But I wouldn't exchange it for the world.

From @chav_:
"move it n00b" flashed across the bottom of my screen.
"I've been playing since even before your parents met, you little twat!"

As I hit the hotkey to retort, my screen turned to white, the familiar ringing of a flash-bang grenade filled my ears. Blood splashed on the screen as my opponent finished me off.

From Capt. Obvious:
"You don't sound excited"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"There's something in the way you"
"In the way I what?"
"Nothing"
"There's only four minutes left"
"It's the tone. That's what I fear the most"
"Three minutes. Just get it off your"
"Do I have to do this my self?"
"I don't have time for this"
"I know"
"I could tell you I'm smiling"
"I believe you"
"Good."

From @PennyKinned:
Cash? Check. Gold coins? Check. Jewellery? Check. Finally, he slid the cold platinum band off her lifeless hand. By himself, he was good – charming, funny, romantic. With the ring, he was unbeatable. Together, they sought wealthy, single women; together, they proposed – and conquered. One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.

From @shamsmakkiya:
Sat a ringlet on my palm. The rings engraved on its glistening wings gleamed in the jet black night. It beheld into my eyes and said, "I dote you."

Vanished the flying miracle into thin air.

Fell the rain accompanied by strong gale that absolved my palm.

From @wikifreakz:
INFER.. NO!!!

The planet was in the grip of heatwaves, that had claimed tens of millions of victims.

The orange dots seen on the satellite pictures denoted the areas which were badly affected by the waves.

Various weapons used in the WW-III by the irresponsible governments had made a planetary ring around that once fertile Planet: Earth!


From @mari_desilva:
“…She wears my ring to show the world that she belongs to me…”

What was Elvis thinking? Or did he hit the nail right on the head? Is marriage fundamentally about legitimizing one’s ownership over the other? A territorial pissing of sorts? 

I’m harsh on marriage perhaps, but not harsher than reality, I assure you.

May 10: Ashes

From @rami_desh:
The memories of the dead are buried in their ashes.
But how could they be?
How could all those lives full of rich experience be embedded in those frail, fragile flakes? 
They are timeless, for they have no past or future.

From @nuzster:
You’ve managed to steal my soul,
crush it,
leave me wanting,
weeping.
I was vulnerable.
Again.
I shouldn’t be.
The tears don’t stop.
How long till I feel again,
till the ashes settle,
and my soul breathes again?

From Jonathan Vittachi  (@jonnyjujubes):
He never thought he'd be the one who would end up doing this, making the final arrangements for his father. It was as if this was the final deciding factor that pushed him from the precipice of child, to the man of the house. Funny, the control his father still had over him.

From @gajenmahen:
Chennai, 1993.
Mama had managed to call. He was on his way back to Kokkuvil, he said. She had been adamant that the ashes were to be scattered at Keerimalai.
She never made it out of the bunker they later said.
A violent death and a hurried funeral.
She was 78.

From @chav_:
"Listen to this... Mayer at his smoothest", I said turning the volume up.
"Ahhh, too good...". Another puff from the joint.
"Wanna watch some cricket?", he said, ashing.
"Not like you do, no?", said the other, looking at me disdainfully.
"'course I do!", protested self.
"But not the Ashes, shortstuff", they said, bursting into laughter.

From @BatmanEarth12:
It burned giving a shimmering halo. The ashes from the joint felt on my lap like snow. I am yet to understand why people engage in 'Kriya yoga' when you can easily realize God using psychedelics. 

ARGH!!!!! 

*cough* *cough*

Another coughing fit. Things don't always turn out to be rosy when you take the elevator to heaven without climbing the stairway.

From @Mari_deSilva & Saumya Fernando:
Absentmindedly she brushed the sacred powder on her forehead. She winced as she remembered his cowardice, his promises of bravado... If only she'd seen the signs. She could've saved her dignity, what was left of it at least. But she carried no malice. Dusting her fingers, she mopped her brow, fighting the rising bile...

From @shamsmakkiya:
He orphaned his poor wife and his beloved child in his mid 30s. All he left for them was a few ashes here and there.

"Chain-smoker" she sighed.

Crowded the crowd to witness the three soulless bodies that were being carried away to be cremated.

From @wikifreakz:
He beheld a sparklet.
Kept it in a tree hollow.
Ultimately,
the entire woods
burnt to ashes.

Yes!
Whilst a revolt breaks out,
No matter who's behind it..
Be it the old or the young,
The age cannot be
distinguished
And moreover,
It's rage cannot be
extinguished!

(Inspired by Bharathi's Agni Kunju)

From @PennyKinned:
He tipped the urn, scattering the ashes into the valley. The wind picked up the specks, each one a different memory. Glimmering laughter, cosy evenings, heated arguments, endless walks, explosive lovemaking, soul-searching conversations, warm cuddles, unflinching support… The ashes disappeared with the breeze, taking with them a lifetime of love. He stood still, now alone.

From @bhagsy:
It was melancholic day. Everyone around me was either crying or with puffy eyes from all the crying. It was an out of the body experience, watching the casket of my friend's body being lifted in to the crematorium. We stood around watching the smoke come through the chimney and to collect the ashes afterwards.

May 9: Home

From Jonathan Vittachi (@jonnyjujubes):
I’ve been away, living in a foreign country for years. Away from home and essentially all I’ve known my whole life. I finished up what I was there to do and returned home, or at least to what I call home. Doesn't feel like that anymore to me, it’s more like where my things are.

From @Shi_dreams:
Walking along the beach, I thought back to my expedition that was coming to a close, and how glad I was to get back to Chris. Home is where the heart is, after all, and mine is with him.  We’d soon be embarking on our own journey together and I was thrilled at the prospect.

From @sharasekaram:
Home is where the heart is. It is the place to where you can return, and feel like you never left. It’s where every smell, every sound is like an old friend. It’s like returning to the arms of a lover, safe in their embrace, knowing that while you are there – everything will be okay.

From @shamsmakkiya:
"Hurry up everyone! The goons are coming to capture our land" echoed all over the forest.
"But why!?" enquired a wretched voice.
"To build houses in our homes".
"Now where shall we live!?" *sobbed bitterly*
"Anywhere" *stammered*

Desperately departed the families in search of refuge with a heavy heart.

From @TheRoundedCube:
The car stopped. He got down and walked up to the door. He unlocked the door and walked into the house. No one.

There was not a soul inside.  He walked about the house which held memories of a long gone time. Nostalgia overtook him.

After years he had come. But this was not home.

From @Saumya Fernando:
The place of familiarity. The place of chaos and simplicity. The place I yearn for when weary. The place of endless memories. The one place of complete freedom. The place of absolute safety. The only place that smells of Amma’s cooking. The place I would be compelled to leave soon with a heavy laden heart.

From @sarahfactor:
She walked up the cobbled path leading up to the driveway. Breathed in the familiar frangipanis on the tree, several scattered on the ground. Coral blue Beetle parked in the garage and her mother at the door, smiling with tears streaming down her wrinkled face.

Home, it finally struck her. Her heart skipped a beat.

From @cernoblog:
Reached for during years in 7 cities, 3 continents, passport lines, exit row seats, favourite cafes, rented  apartments, train platforms on another missed Aurudu: the delicious heat of being cooked in a car stuck in school rush traffic at Thimbirigasyaya junction - perfumed by uncollected garbage. Once this nomadic exile's most treasured instant sensation of home.

From @rebelinpurple:
Beneath the eight moons, far beyond the echoes of the Milky Way, somewhere in between her three breasts, I found home. Her purple eyes reflected the belt of a thousand stars in the Orion sky and the comforting darkness of its endless backdrop, stretching into the depths of the tempting unknown, devoid of toxic humanity.

From @chav_:
"There will be someone better, I promise you. You'll find some..."

"Stop it" she snapped. "I'm not a child, and I don't expect to be treated as one". *click*

He stared at his empty home screen, not a trace of the previous phone-call to be found, and sighed.

From @PennyKinned:
“Home,” his college classmates would sigh longingly. He could see that “home” meant safety to them – unconditional love, care, a place of belonging. It was a concept alien to him. His personal definition of the word included screaming, accusations, alcoholic rages, whippings and worse. “Home” was everything he wanted his life not to be.

From @Hayahz:
Have your heart be where feet are. Have your home be where feet are. Have your feet be where your heart finds home. In the solitude of self.

(Inspired by Rumi)

From @Mari_deSilva:
If home is where the heart is, why do we hurt the ones we love the most? Love the ones who hurt us the most? Give everyone/thing precedence over our homes? If home is where the heart is, do we only value it when it stops? 

From @wikifreakz:
The Man 11th Hour!

Loft in a flat
yet life is fake.
Oft have pizza
Coke and flake.
Leave home daily:
damn night shift!
Feels déjà vu
whilst in the lift:
All day long
it merely packs
Unknown faces and
well-known backs.
I'm getting older
day by day;
Here's the fortune
but an inch away!

From @bhagsy:
The sky sleeps, the moon shines,
The air I breath is cool and soft,
To see the nice, the glories,
Must find my way, "home...."

Not a place to go, but to live,
A place to stay, yet to feel,
To shine like the stars above,
Where I can be me, my "home...."


From Daiyaan (@nazthewiz):
That day, seemed, the clock stopped ticking, wholly.

But it wasn't so, the clock continued ticking, we are moving on, and everybody too.

It was only dad's clock that wholly stopped.

What was, his home yesterday, its mine today, and could be anyone's tomorrow.

I sit quietly, and wonder,

Is there any place that we really can call home?