From @raisalw:
The moon pulsates in psychedelic hues. I am lying on a beach stranded in the middle of everywhere. The music amplifies. Cool air on my skin. How glorious to be alive, thanks to a spoonful of sugar.
One hit is enough.
But what’s happening now? Strange hands, a wolf-smile and a single, whispered word.
“Lassanai”
From @shamsmakkiya:
Red, purple, white and pink corruscated the vine-covered trellis.
"Wow! Morning Glory," Tritos smiled psychedelically.
Tritos's parents sensed something odd in their innocent-looking son.
Tritos went on a field trip to the woods.
In search of the lawn-mower, mom went up to the attic.
"OH NO! My son can never be a doper." *Wept*
From @Mari_deSilva:
He was the epitome of colour. His Code of Ethics enshrined it. His every breath, his every moment was wrapped in flamboyance. Everything he touched transformed into an instant work of art. No shade nor hue ever escaped him. Madiba truly lived every colour of the rainbow. I wonder who knew he was colour blind?
From @paviliciousk:
I stepped outside; into a crowd of people. Everyone was looking in the same direction. I peeped. It’s a Double rainbow. It had a psychedelic effect on all who saw it. Cars slowed down, people stood in the middle of the street snapping pictures; trying to ingrain this magic into their brain...
...or their phone.
From @wIkIfReAkz:
The Spa
Cathy gulped the crimson liquid. Gradually dozed off. Got her sanity jettisoned.
*BLANK*
*
EcstoSpa ensured the ecstatic feeling of OBE (Out-of-body experience) - detachment of the supracelestial body from the mass.
*
She opened her eyes.
Amidst the erroneous views of random psychedelic swirls, a blurry scene was slightly visible: a guy holding a handicam..
From @PennyKinned:
He was sulking in the attic when he found it: a string-tied packet of old photographs. Psychedelic clothes and carefree smiles. He thought of them now, his father’s shoulders bowed and his mother’s saris carefully reused till they fell apart. All for him, he knew. A single tear rolled down his still-downy cheek.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
June 24: Resurrection
From @sharasekaram:
She turned around at him and smiled, her lips as red as blood against startlingly white teeth. He suppressed a shudder, unable to tear his gaze away from the perfectly sculpted face. It was inhumane in its perfection, it was unnatural. Guess that’s what happens when plastic surgeons resurrect what was left of you.
From @raisalw:
She stepped up on the ledge, untwisting the knots in her hair. The ground seemed so far away. She hesitated, then remembered that sheet of paper. The one which told her she had failed- again. “It’s just one step,” she thought, “and then, perhaps, resurrection.”
At first, she was just a fleck of paper, falling.
From @paviliciousk:
res-ur-rec-tion
1. the act of rising from the dead.
2. the rising of Christ after His death and burial.
I heard that Jesus was the first Zombie.
The Son of God: ground zero of the Zombie apocalypse?
Religion as Science Fiction?
Or just Fiction?
Side note: World War Z should be renamed “Piles of Zombies.”
From @shamsmakkiya & @wIkIfReAkz:
Abel Vs Cain
Abel was gagged and abducted to the abandoned junkyard.
The blood was made to imbibe air emboli.
"Aaaarrrrghhh"
Pulse rate came to a sudden halt.
*
'Tick-tick.. Tick-tick'
The gem-studded Rolex alienated time from its owner.
Desires resurrected the centuries-old curse.
*
The DNA tests confirmed that the assassin was none but his confidant.
From Mythify:
She was confident enough in her new self, her new life, her new marriage to accept when he called and asked her to dinner. “It’s harmless,” she thought confidently. “I’ve moved past that, past him.” But a single caress resurrected her old self: eventually, she snorted the proffered coke and went back to his place.
From @Mari_deSilva:
A Christian, each year, I would gleefully await our family tradition of lighting Vesak lanterns outside. Impatiently, I’d count down the days to the neighbourhood Sinhala & Tamil New Year celebrations. The Independence Day Parade was a never-to-be-missed family date around the TV. Now, distorted and exploited, doubt it can ever be the same again...
She turned around at him and smiled, her lips as red as blood against startlingly white teeth. He suppressed a shudder, unable to tear his gaze away from the perfectly sculpted face. It was inhumane in its perfection, it was unnatural. Guess that’s what happens when plastic surgeons resurrect what was left of you.
From @raisalw:
She stepped up on the ledge, untwisting the knots in her hair. The ground seemed so far away. She hesitated, then remembered that sheet of paper. The one which told her she had failed- again. “It’s just one step,” she thought, “and then, perhaps, resurrection.”
At first, she was just a fleck of paper, falling.
From @paviliciousk:
res-ur-rec-tion
1. the act of rising from the dead.
2. the rising of Christ after His death and burial.
I heard that Jesus was the first Zombie.
The Son of God: ground zero of the Zombie apocalypse?
Religion as Science Fiction?
Or just Fiction?
Side note: World War Z should be renamed “Piles of Zombies.”
From @shamsmakkiya & @wIkIfReAkz:
Abel Vs Cain
Abel was gagged and abducted to the abandoned junkyard.
The blood was made to imbibe air emboli.
"Aaaarrrrghhh"
Pulse rate came to a sudden halt.
*
'Tick-tick.. Tick-tick'
The gem-studded Rolex alienated time from its owner.
Desires resurrected the centuries-old curse.
*
The DNA tests confirmed that the assassin was none but his confidant.
From Mythify:
She was confident enough in her new self, her new life, her new marriage to accept when he called and asked her to dinner. “It’s harmless,” she thought confidently. “I’ve moved past that, past him.” But a single caress resurrected her old self: eventually, she snorted the proffered coke and went back to his place.
From @Mari_deSilva:
A Christian, each year, I would gleefully await our family tradition of lighting Vesak lanterns outside. Impatiently, I’d count down the days to the neighbourhood Sinhala & Tamil New Year celebrations. The Independence Day Parade was a never-to-be-missed family date around the TV. Now, distorted and exploited, doubt it can ever be the same again...
Saturday, June 22, 2013
June 17-21: Storm/Poison (Collaborative Stories)
Here are the amazing stories from our first collaborative story-writing project! It was a tough task -- and the participating storytellers did a great job :) Group authors are listed in order of submission.
From @Shi_dreams, @gillian.nair, @rebelinpurple & @gehan99:
Little Ashok lay under the bed in the dark terrified.
A car sounded in the driveway and he heard the voices of his nana and someone else in the hallway. She was screaming “YOU POISONED MY DAUGHTER!”
Ashok’s world started spinning.
“Nooo! Mommy isn’t dead!” he thought, crying.
Suddenly there was silence.
“Nana??” he whispered.
He tiptoed in to the hall. He could see the bracelet he made for his mom broken all over the floor. He heard a familiar voice that he followed in to the kitchen. His dad was standing above his mother’s lifeless body, with a shining gleam in his eye. He started to move towards Ashok.
“Really, Lehan? That’s how you want to start your first novel? I’m certain your father wouldn’t approve,” quipped, Sid. This wasn’t the reaction Lehan was looking forward to, but made no attempt to defend himself. It could have been worse; his father would have just walked off and carried on drinking without saying a word.
And suddenly, Lehan had an idea.
Soon he was at his father’s house, watching him read his manuscript. His father didn’t speak, but his eyes showed contempt at his son’s “so-called profession”.
“Rubbish.”, he slurred, reaching for his drink.
Lehan watched him take the poisoned glass, picked up his pen, and prepared to start writing.
From The Eccentric Vagabond, @sharasekaram, Michael Mendis & Jonathan Vittachi:
He watched as he twirled the liquid in his glass, or what was left in it rather. There was a storm brewing at work, and it wouldn’t be long till it shattered his life into ruins. What of Molly?..and Samuel? No; it had to be done, had to. Not like he’d been given another option.
In one movement he downed the contents of the glass and winced. Taking a deep breath he dialed. Dialed the number that would change everything. Dialed the number that would ruin a relationship that had been carefully built up. That would pit friend against friend. Nothing would ever – COULD ever be the same again.
Rohan answered the call. 'Hello. I know who leaked the proposals. Merc Private offered 3 mil for the copies, and I delivered. I am willing to talk. Tell me what to do.' He hung up. He would much rather Molly and Samuel know their father did the right thing later, than never at all.
His phone rang less than a second after he had replaced the receiver; it was Rohan. ‘Mark we already knew that, the cops are already on their way, my suggestion is to run. Take the kids and go’ and with that the line went dead.
From Ritesh Agarwal, @yazblu, @dishilicious & Raisa:
The sky roared. A storm was in progress. But it was not half as fierce as the one brewing within him.
His thoughts were split. Half of them strayed towards Monica and the other half wandered over towards Jennifer.
He sipped his cold coffee, willing it to warm up his heart. Then the doorbell rang.
He stared at the door, rooted in place. His memories pulled him to another place, another time, when a ring of the doorbell had brought him Monica; who had captured his heart and left him to live a shell of an existence when a similar storm had snatched her away with a flash of lightening.
He tried to take a step towards her, instead stood frozen, feeling gloomier and colder than the weather outside. An unbearable pain was piercing through his veins, as flashes of memories blinded him. He wanted to scream, to explode.
Just then he felt the warmth of a touch on his shoulder. He opened his eyes.
“Good morning! It’s time for your pill.”
“This coffee is tepid. And when exactly did I say you could enter?”
“Hush, now”. I’ll get you hot coffee,” she said, stifling a smile.
Her eyes are blue, like Monica’s.
I was young once, he thinks.
Now it’s all over.
He turned back to the raging sky.
From @shamsmakkiya, @minzy34, @Mari_deSilva & @wIkIfReAkz:
Isis sat frozen. Adrenaline stormed circling her entire body. The very next second, the full height glass window went crashing as she threw the table in great rage. The building startled. The colleagues rushed upwards. At the sight of Isis's ferocious look, the boss retreated. Hundreds of questions met Isis's ears. She started responding atypically.
“STOP!!!” Isis was screaming inside her head; but her body was not her own. Amidst the shattering glass, numerous cuts that leaked blood like an ice cream on a sunny noon, she saw the retreating Boss. In a flash, her mind recollected the look in his eyes the previous night. It all made sense now.
He was a coward. He didn’t want anyone to know his dirty little secret. But I wasn’t going to just roll over and play dead. I was going to stay and teach him a lesson he wouldn’t easily forget. Isis never backs down from a fight. Especially when she has got nothing more to lose.
She signaled her fellow-mommoids.
His body seemed tiny from the 55th floor.
---
Epilogue
The mommoids, the humanoid nannies have a high demand as they possess all the motherly features.
Yesterday, Intra-Sync Info-Syster (ISIS), the server gynoid, found that the CEO of CareBots.Inc was drawing plans to design mommoids as sex machines to attract more customers.
From @Shi_dreams, @gillian.nair, @rebelinpurple & @gehan99:
Little Ashok lay under the bed in the dark terrified.
A car sounded in the driveway and he heard the voices of his nana and someone else in the hallway. She was screaming “YOU POISONED MY DAUGHTER!”
Ashok’s world started spinning.
“Nooo! Mommy isn’t dead!” he thought, crying.
Suddenly there was silence.
“Nana??” he whispered.
He tiptoed in to the hall. He could see the bracelet he made for his mom broken all over the floor. He heard a familiar voice that he followed in to the kitchen. His dad was standing above his mother’s lifeless body, with a shining gleam in his eye. He started to move towards Ashok.
“Really, Lehan? That’s how you want to start your first novel? I’m certain your father wouldn’t approve,” quipped, Sid. This wasn’t the reaction Lehan was looking forward to, but made no attempt to defend himself. It could have been worse; his father would have just walked off and carried on drinking without saying a word.
And suddenly, Lehan had an idea.
Soon he was at his father’s house, watching him read his manuscript. His father didn’t speak, but his eyes showed contempt at his son’s “so-called profession”.
“Rubbish.”, he slurred, reaching for his drink.
Lehan watched him take the poisoned glass, picked up his pen, and prepared to start writing.
From The Eccentric Vagabond, @sharasekaram, Michael Mendis & Jonathan Vittachi:
He watched as he twirled the liquid in his glass, or what was left in it rather. There was a storm brewing at work, and it wouldn’t be long till it shattered his life into ruins. What of Molly?..and Samuel? No; it had to be done, had to. Not like he’d been given another option.
In one movement he downed the contents of the glass and winced. Taking a deep breath he dialed. Dialed the number that would change everything. Dialed the number that would ruin a relationship that had been carefully built up. That would pit friend against friend. Nothing would ever – COULD ever be the same again.
Rohan answered the call. 'Hello. I know who leaked the proposals. Merc Private offered 3 mil for the copies, and I delivered. I am willing to talk. Tell me what to do.' He hung up. He would much rather Molly and Samuel know their father did the right thing later, than never at all.
His phone rang less than a second after he had replaced the receiver; it was Rohan. ‘Mark we already knew that, the cops are already on their way, my suggestion is to run. Take the kids and go’ and with that the line went dead.
From Ritesh Agarwal, @yazblu, @dishilicious & Raisa:
The sky roared. A storm was in progress. But it was not half as fierce as the one brewing within him.
His thoughts were split. Half of them strayed towards Monica and the other half wandered over towards Jennifer.
He sipped his cold coffee, willing it to warm up his heart. Then the doorbell rang.
He stared at the door, rooted in place. His memories pulled him to another place, another time, when a ring of the doorbell had brought him Monica; who had captured his heart and left him to live a shell of an existence when a similar storm had snatched her away with a flash of lightening.
He tried to take a step towards her, instead stood frozen, feeling gloomier and colder than the weather outside. An unbearable pain was piercing through his veins, as flashes of memories blinded him. He wanted to scream, to explode.
Just then he felt the warmth of a touch on his shoulder. He opened his eyes.
“Good morning! It’s time for your pill.”
“This coffee is tepid. And when exactly did I say you could enter?”
“Hush, now”. I’ll get you hot coffee,” she said, stifling a smile.
Her eyes are blue, like Monica’s.
I was young once, he thinks.
Now it’s all over.
He turned back to the raging sky.
From @shamsmakkiya, @minzy34, @Mari_deSilva & @wIkIfReAkz:
Isis sat frozen. Adrenaline stormed circling her entire body. The very next second, the full height glass window went crashing as she threw the table in great rage. The building startled. The colleagues rushed upwards. At the sight of Isis's ferocious look, the boss retreated. Hundreds of questions met Isis's ears. She started responding atypically.
“STOP!!!” Isis was screaming inside her head; but her body was not her own. Amidst the shattering glass, numerous cuts that leaked blood like an ice cream on a sunny noon, she saw the retreating Boss. In a flash, her mind recollected the look in his eyes the previous night. It all made sense now.
He was a coward. He didn’t want anyone to know his dirty little secret. But I wasn’t going to just roll over and play dead. I was going to stay and teach him a lesson he wouldn’t easily forget. Isis never backs down from a fight. Especially when she has got nothing more to lose.
She signaled her fellow-mommoids.
His body seemed tiny from the 55th floor.
---
Epilogue
The mommoids, the humanoid nannies have a high demand as they possess all the motherly features.
Yesterday, Intra-Sync Info-Syster (ISIS), the server gynoid, found that the CEO of CareBots.Inc was drawing plans to design mommoids as sex machines to attract more customers.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
June 13-14: Broken
 |
| Original photograph by @PaviliciousK |
Drip. Drip. Drip.
What in gods name is dripping from the ceiling??
Malli slowly reaches up- CRASH! BANG! DONG-PATAS-DONG!
Shit and piss from our upstairs neighbours trickles into our bathroom. I look at Malli spraying industrial-strength disinfectant and all i can see is the drip drip of my hard earned salary; down the shit pipes.
From @bhagsy:
I was left feeling empty as he slung words of cruelty on to me, accusing me of things I hadn't done. My world was shattering and funnily I could see the pieces falling. My knees gave way and I fell to the floor. There I lay, an empty and broken person.
From @Shi_dreams:
For two hours she lay on the bathroom floor, curled up into a ball, balling her eyes out, her heart broken. “How did she let the events of the last 24 hours happen?”
Suddenly there was a knock on her apartment door.
“Omg! They’ve come for me!” she thought in horror. “What do I do?!”
 |
| Original photograph by @Mari_deSilva |
Listless, she walks the streets, a thatched bag under her arm. It holds newspaper cuttings carrying images of young boys held at detention centres; two of whom she’s identified as her sons.
“I know they are alive.
Why can’t they just let me see my boys?
I will not rest until then,” she cries.
From @dishilicious:
the promise i made
to myself
that
i will never
shed a tear for you
again
is
the only promise
i had ever
broken!
From @shamsmakkiya:
A self-immolated spirit wails in vain.
I have blundered. Yes! I shouldn't have sacrificed myself for such a mere reason. I am broken *Wails*. I have been such a worst fanatic. This place is so dreadful. Will I ever be able to get my soul back to my worldly body!? Oh politicos, help me!
From Priyanthie de Silva:
I had never seen such a neglected garden or such a dilapidated house. Curiosity made me walk in through the broken gate, sure that it was abandoned.On nearing the front door, a soft moaning could be heard.I peeped in to see an old woman, wailing plaintively, 'my putha (son), my deiyo (God)."
From Gillian Nair:
You're a coward.
You spit out words of hate
With your raw cold heart
You breathe lies and swear them true.
You're the coward, not me.
I'm the forgotten
I'm the wasted
I'm the broken
I'm the damned.
I'm the fucked up.
But you'll always be the coward,
Who couldn't fight back for me.
From @wIkIfReAkz:
What's Mine?
O' my beloved lass, thou once made a pledge:
'Shall come alongst with mate, towards southern edge
Neath the the moonlit woods beside the rivers'.
Hast broken thy promise; alas, my breast now shivers!
*
'Two killed in a landmine explosion in Kilinochchi,' says Army.
[Inspired by Bharati's 'Theertthak karaiyinile'.]
From Tristan Kube:
 |
| Original photograph by Tristan Kube |
The mind was his mallet and all he needed was space to dream.
“HE’S LOST HIS MIND”, the guards said...
Only, such men ne’re broke.
From Mythify:
In the corner of the room, the unwashed, bedraggled prisoner mumbled to himself. He gazed vacantly at the door as it opened.
The agent took one look at the man who used to be the world’s foremost criminal mastermind and sighed in exasperation.
“You broke him,” she said accusingly to the warden. “He’s useless now.”
Thursday, June 13, 2013
June 12: Addiction
 |
| Original photograph by T.K. |
From T.K.:
The horse was fast. Or so he thought. It was not to be
today. He was supposed to get some rations for home and milk for the kid. He
wiggled into his trouser pockets and dug out a mashed up fifty.. his last note.
It was enough for the bread.. but.. ‘twas his lucky note.
From @sharasekaram:
You are my addiction, my cocaine, my virtue and my vice. You
run through my every breath, thought and dream. Without you I shrivel, I crave,
I suffer. With you, I am invincible, unconquerable, untouchable. You drive me,
you push me to be the best version of myself. You are my addiction.
From @bhagsy:
I was intoxicated by what we shared, sitting all day I would
do nothing but think of him; drink in his features, his walk and his movements
or sit gaze into those deep black eyes all day, knowing they saw right through
me. I was addicted. Addicted to this man for all we had, and didn't.
From Mythify:
“I’m so totally addicted to you,” says the teenage girl,
adoringly looking up at her lover, this older, married, fabulous man. A more
discerning observer may have trembled at the menacing quality of his smile.
This addiction would cost her dear – it would spell chains, basements, knives
and, above all, pain. Mind-numbing, reality-bending pain.
From @shamsmakkiya:
A COMEUPPANCE.
Young children went missing frequently.
Later they were called juvenile delinquents.
None knew about the criminal behind their evil addictions.
One fine day, everything came to light.
The mob chased after him.
The paedophile was chopped to pieces.
Mob justice was implemented.
Young children went missing frequently.
Later they were called juvenile delinquents.
None knew about the criminal behind their evil addictions.
One fine day, everything came to light.
The mob chased after him.
The paedophile was chopped to pieces.
Mob justice was implemented.
From Priyanthie de Silva:
It was by accident, that she found out her father's
addiction. Her 'Dad' whom she adored, was a monster.
He returned home each evening, to ' family-time'. On weekends, he would wheedle
from her mother money to treat "the boys". She never objected.
She heard her class-mates discuss the 'goody two shoes'
whose father was a rake!
From @Mari_deSilva:
Longs talks looking out into the sea, faithful promises to
“do the right thing”, self reflective emails, daily calls willing each other to
“walk away...” But, nothing could keep them apart. They couldn’t get enough of
each other. Junkies Forever they wanted tattooed on their fingers instead of
rings. Wonder what became of them?
From @wIkIfReAKZ:
'Doosra'
"Doc, I've written a poem..
'My nicest scenery;
My softest melody;
My finest fragrance;
My sweetest flavour;
My highest ecstasy..
-Me!'
You like it..?"
He hugged the handcuffed 'him'.
"No..
Don't.."
---
He smiled; dressed up and threw a flying kiss.
---
Dr.Aaron's addiction, Narcissistic Personality Disorder,
backfired on him..
"I shouldn't have cloned myself.."
From Tristan Kube:
“I’m convinced now, that the one thing that can make an
addiction go away is yet another”. He says pulling out a tiny photograph of his
three year old daughter from his wallet. He’s been clean two years since his
girlfriend OD’d. Now little Suzie’s his addiction; hence he calls her his
Cocaine. Some disapprove.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
June 11: Fragment
From @sharasekaram:
I clutch onto the fragment you hear that I still hold. I pray it is enough, and if I hold on tight enough that you will come back to me. That you will reach on and give me your whole heart – not just a sliver. For you, without a shadow of doubt –have mine.
From @shamsmakkiya:
DAY- 1 [23:00]
Dick Costolo receives a call.
"We have annihilated your highly secured domain to fragments"
"What!? Who are you?"
"US."
DAY- 2 [01:00]
Millions of users encountered network blackout.
DAY- 2 [06:00]
Breaking News: The CEO of the renowned social networking site, Twitter, passed away due to Sudden Cardiac Arrest.
Anonymous: We have reached a milestone.
From Priyanthie de Silva:
The light was failing, so I shut the book with a sigh. It was absorbing, the fragment of a young life, snuffed out prematurely. The tale related the bourgeoning interest of the protagonist, in the girl next door, little realizing that she was married. She led him on, the husband returned unexpectedly & caput all was ended!
From theshadowseeker:
Ten years had passed since she had seen him last. Their parting words nothing but hateful and harsh. Scattered around her, lay the melting shards of the hate they had built, broken now for the man who lay motionless. A mere fragment of the man she had known. And loved.
From Mythify:
He wore the aeons-old apple core on a string around his neck. Rotten, it was, with greyish mould and the occasional maggot crawling out of it. He loved it, though. It drove him to greater depths and new horrors. It was, after all, a fragment of the very first sin – his greatest victory yet.
From @PaviliciousK:
I peel off this skin. Puke away the bile. A sweat of memories drips down my face.
Drops that linger on my eyelashes. But not for long.
Pieces of my life, fragments of a broken life wash down the drain.
That’s enough. The time has come. Step forward.
New life.Wholeness. Rebirth.
I Rise.
From @Mari_deSilva:
Who knew that one miniscule experience would determine the course of her heart for life? That her heart would never again love unconditionally, trust implicitly, give unrestrained or care selflessly. She never realised how much she lost along with her gain. How much she’d changed. What power she’d given that one missing fragment...what a shame.
From @wIkIfReAkz:
MMXIII AD
Alice woke up from her deep slumber.
"Where am I..?" she wondered. "Or is this also a fragment of the same dream?"
She wandered through the hallway.
All she could find were nothing but some weird machines and wired humans.
"Gosh.. This is the strangest!"
She saw a wall calendar read: 'June, 2013'
From @Pennykinned:
After he left, she kept wearing the wedding ring, prepared for a lifetime of loneliness and misery.
But there came a day when she outgrew this fragment of the past. It was time to take the ring off, leave her hand bare to grasp new possibilities.
Even the most broken hearts do heal, eventually.
I clutch onto the fragment you hear that I still hold. I pray it is enough, and if I hold on tight enough that you will come back to me. That you will reach on and give me your whole heart – not just a sliver. For you, without a shadow of doubt –have mine.
From @shamsmakkiya:
DAY- 1 [23:00]
Dick Costolo receives a call.
"We have annihilated your highly secured domain to fragments"
"What!? Who are you?"
"US."
DAY- 2 [01:00]
Millions of users encountered network blackout.
DAY- 2 [06:00]
Breaking News: The CEO of the renowned social networking site, Twitter, passed away due to Sudden Cardiac Arrest.
Anonymous: We have reached a milestone.
From Priyanthie de Silva:
The light was failing, so I shut the book with a sigh. It was absorbing, the fragment of a young life, snuffed out prematurely. The tale related the bourgeoning interest of the protagonist, in the girl next door, little realizing that she was married. She led him on, the husband returned unexpectedly & caput all was ended!
From theshadowseeker:
Ten years had passed since she had seen him last. Their parting words nothing but hateful and harsh. Scattered around her, lay the melting shards of the hate they had built, broken now for the man who lay motionless. A mere fragment of the man she had known. And loved.
From Mythify:
He wore the aeons-old apple core on a string around his neck. Rotten, it was, with greyish mould and the occasional maggot crawling out of it. He loved it, though. It drove him to greater depths and new horrors. It was, after all, a fragment of the very first sin – his greatest victory yet.
From @PaviliciousK:
I peel off this skin. Puke away the bile. A sweat of memories drips down my face.
Drops that linger on my eyelashes. But not for long.
Pieces of my life, fragments of a broken life wash down the drain.
That’s enough. The time has come. Step forward.
New life.Wholeness. Rebirth.
I Rise.
From @Mari_deSilva:
Who knew that one miniscule experience would determine the course of her heart for life? That her heart would never again love unconditionally, trust implicitly, give unrestrained or care selflessly. She never realised how much she lost along with her gain. How much she’d changed. What power she’d given that one missing fragment...what a shame.
From @wIkIfReAkz:
MMXIII AD
Alice woke up from her deep slumber.
"Where am I..?" she wondered. "Or is this also a fragment of the same dream?"
She wandered through the hallway.
All she could find were nothing but some weird machines and wired humans.
"Gosh.. This is the strangest!"
She saw a wall calendar read: 'June, 2013'
From @Pennykinned:
After he left, she kept wearing the wedding ring, prepared for a lifetime of loneliness and misery.
But there came a day when she outgrew this fragment of the past. It was time to take the ring off, leave her hand bare to grasp new possibilities.
Even the most broken hearts do heal, eventually.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
June 10: Dream
 |
| Original artwork by Tristan Kube |
Pry open my mind and you will find, mildew on every corner and on many a sides: dreams collecting dust and thoughts gathering rust.. And somewhere in another corner the hopeful words - “one day I shall; when the time is right”.
If time be the mother of thieves, procrastination is the killer of dreams.
From @sharasekaram:
Living your dream is like free falling. It’s a dizzying rush, your feel drunk on power – you are defying the elements. “But WAIT!” logic screams, “Where is your safety net? What happens when you crash?” Simple. Your passion, dedication, talent and single minded belief in your ability will weave one for you along the way.
From @Mari_deSilva:
I wake up in tears. They’ve killed you! How many times I’ve begged you to be careful? To watch what you say in public? You never listened.
“What should I do? Shut up and do nothing?” was your usual retort.
I never had a good response. But, I do now.
“Nobody’s invincible. Not even you.”
From Shanz:
Thought we could make a life together, so many plans for our future. It felt so right. You were mine and I was yours. Looking at life through rose coloured glasses, seeing green pastures running around wild and free, until with a jolt I was suddenly woken only to find it was a dream.
From @wIkIfReAkz:
Surveillance
The revelation created a stir across the world: “The Government intercepts every inter-personal communication, on national security concerns..”
¤
Meanwhile another experiment was underway. This time, to overrule the intra-personal communications.
“A device will be fixed in every household. It will control the neural-waves of the citizens, evoking only a set of patriotic dreams..”
From Mythify:
“It can’t be,” he stammered, “You were in my dream. How can you be in the real world? This isn’t happening. You don’t exist.”
The fanged creature chuckled lazily, “You humans. Thinking of dreams as separate from the real world. Dreams are real. You dreamed me into existence. And now, you will pay the price.”
From Twitty:
Dream, dream, dream when I want you, when I need you, all I have to do is dream…… Anytime, everyday, you can be mine, anytime of the day. But gee whiz I am dreaming my life a way.
From @shamsmakkiya:
A Human vs. Animals
Every single grain of sand blended in his sweat.
The teary bricks pronounced his name agelessly.
The rocks found in their thoracic cavities lacked dampness.
He never recognized their artful and deceitful blood.
His dreams faded along with his breath.
Patience and perseverance was all that he built for himself.
From @PennyKinned:
She woke up with a start, crying out. “It was a dream, it was a dream, it was a dream,” she recited, trying to calm herself. But it isn’t quite so easy to dissipate the monsters when you wake up in the middle of the night, alone, is it? She lay awake all night. Again.
Monday, June 10, 2013
June 6: Create & Destroy
From @sharasekaram:
My love can create what you wish to be. It will inspire you to reach heights you never thought were possible, to touch the stars, conquer the skies. My love can also destroy you. Make who you are, and who you thought you would be vanish – like a puff of smoke. Like you never existed.
From @shammakkiya:
SCENE I
Yafeu, a wannabe writer reads a novel by Isaac Asimov.
Dozes off.
SCENE II
Yafeu, hears blade slaps. *Whoop*
A chopper lands.
Transparent men disembark.
The sky splits open.
Descends an escalator.
Ascends the men.
SCENE III
Yafau writes based on Creation Science.
Destroys Atheism.
SCENE IV
Yafeu secures the prestigious Hugo Awards.
From @Mari_deSilva:
To create and destroy – what an absolute power to possess. Often I wonder why you won’t just end it and be done with it. Why painstakingly wait and watch whilst we slowly, brutally do it ourselves? Are you a sadist, or just an indomitable dreamer, hoping against hope that we’ll find our way back home?
From @rami_desh:
'Congratulations on the birth of your new child! Within those hands are the power to create or destroy the world, please handle with care.'
From @gehan99:
"She was an artist, a poet, a maestro. Not in any ordinary sense of the world; she was by no means anything short of extraordinary.
For her canvas was my heart, and her tongue her brush from which she painted masterpieces of love or hate.
And in the end, I was both created and destroyed."
From @capt_sparkly:
Take me apart, she said, one pin at a time, like you would a paper doll. Unfold me, spread me across your knees; iron out the creases with your thumb.
Blot the ink that marks my face. Break me down again and again, till we both forget exactly how to put me together again.
From Priyanthie de Silva:
I have been told how ones words have the power to create & destroy. As the saying goes, 'the tongue is only six inches long, but has the ability to bring down a six foot man!' Our teachers, who humiliated us in the presence of our peers, during our impressionable years did not know better.
From theshadowseeker:
It did not take much to create me. Alcohol, raging hormones and sex that neither can remember. Since that moment of creation, destined to one end- destruction. There is more I insist. That which cannot be created nor destroyed. That I am simultaneously only the path and the vessel for. Eternal force- Life.
From @wikifreakz:
Tomorrow we created the masterpiece of our time!
ChronoWagon™: the first ever time-machine of human history.
Now we can travel through the past and correct the errors made in 21st century.
*
Synchronizing..
Take off.
*VRROOOOOM*
*
MOSCOW | Fri June 07, 2013 (Reuters)
'An unspecified flying object found over Georgia was destroyed last night,' says Kremlin aide.
My love can create what you wish to be. It will inspire you to reach heights you never thought were possible, to touch the stars, conquer the skies. My love can also destroy you. Make who you are, and who you thought you would be vanish – like a puff of smoke. Like you never existed.
From @shammakkiya:
SCENE I
Yafeu, a wannabe writer reads a novel by Isaac Asimov.
Dozes off.
SCENE II
Yafeu, hears blade slaps. *Whoop*
A chopper lands.
Transparent men disembark.
The sky splits open.
Descends an escalator.
Ascends the men.
SCENE III
Yafau writes based on Creation Science.
Destroys Atheism.
SCENE IV
Yafeu secures the prestigious Hugo Awards.
 |
| Original photograph by @Mari_deSilva |
From @Mari_deSilva:
To create and destroy – what an absolute power to possess. Often I wonder why you won’t just end it and be done with it. Why painstakingly wait and watch whilst we slowly, brutally do it ourselves? Are you a sadist, or just an indomitable dreamer, hoping against hope that we’ll find our way back home?
From @rami_desh:
'Congratulations on the birth of your new child! Within those hands are the power to create or destroy the world, please handle with care.'
From @gehan99:
"She was an artist, a poet, a maestro. Not in any ordinary sense of the world; she was by no means anything short of extraordinary.
For her canvas was my heart, and her tongue her brush from which she painted masterpieces of love or hate.
And in the end, I was both created and destroyed."
From @capt_sparkly:
Take me apart, she said, one pin at a time, like you would a paper doll. Unfold me, spread me across your knees; iron out the creases with your thumb.
Blot the ink that marks my face. Break me down again and again, till we both forget exactly how to put me together again.
From Priyanthie de Silva:
I have been told how ones words have the power to create & destroy. As the saying goes, 'the tongue is only six inches long, but has the ability to bring down a six foot man!' Our teachers, who humiliated us in the presence of our peers, during our impressionable years did not know better.
From theshadowseeker:
It did not take much to create me. Alcohol, raging hormones and sex that neither can remember. Since that moment of creation, destined to one end- destruction. There is more I insist. That which cannot be created nor destroyed. That I am simultaneously only the path and the vessel for. Eternal force- Life.
From @wikifreakz:
Tomorrow we created the masterpiece of our time!
ChronoWagon™: the first ever time-machine of human history.
Now we can travel through the past and correct the errors made in 21st century.
*
Synchronizing..
Take off.
*VRROOOOOM*
*
MOSCOW | Fri June 07, 2013 (Reuters)
'An unspecified flying object found over Georgia was destroyed last night,' says Kremlin aide.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
June 4: Love & Lust
From @gillian.nair:
I couldn’t tell what it was that we had. I felt different. I felt alive. Like the missing piece to a puzzle.
I craved to feel the heat of his body against mine, for his tongue to move in me.
But more than anything I desperately wanted it to be more than sex.
From Tristan Kube:
Lust burns bright like a roman candle but is quick to subside, love shines maybe not so resplendently, but is the constantly warm yet illusory light we all keep chasing never to find. It is true, it is sad – love is only a feeling that we had.
From @AntonyCF:
She wanted his love, He wanted her for lust! Between the two of them, He was wanted by another for lust, She was wanted in to be love by another! Life's twisted comedy, we keep playing games we don't like and want to, but we're merely puppets on stage drama - Love/Lust
From @shamsmakkiya:
FLASHBACKS.
Lust for life.
Bosom friends.
Lotus seeds.
Gum trees.
Peacock feathers.
Sand dunes. Sarsaparilla roots.
Childish quarrels.
Venomous creatures.
Hearty wishes.
Sorrowful departure.
Happy meetings. Crazy parties.
Grand occasions.
Whimsical thoughts.
Memorable journeys.
Arab voices.
Historical love.
Unlimited messages.
Haunting memories.
Aching tears.
Unbearable reproaches.
Unexpected incidents.
Chance acquaintances.
Blissful seconds.
Love for death.
From @Mari_deSilva:
“How the legs machang? Like a bloody super-model!”
“I’d tap that any day!”
What it must feel like to be at the brunt of such objectification. The humiliation and indignity of it all must be unimaginable. So demeaning.
Must feel good to be able to turn a few heads though no?
From Human to Turd:
Her mother often looked at him insinuatingly and on some occasions even let fly a sarcastic and caustic remark which he judiciously chose to ignore. She never trusted him from day one. To her he looked (not so much the cheat but) a free-spirit who would one day break her daughter’s heart. She was wrong.
From @wikifreakz:
The ballroom was ablaze with the radiant disco lights.
The ecstatic Tango music bursted in the fullest spirit.
Their torsos brushed each other.
He sighed emitting weed stench: a furnace -literally.
Their desires popped up swiftly just like the bubbles of the beverages served.
The neon board at the entrance read:
'THE VALENTINE'S SAGA - 2013'
From @capt_sparkly:
In your darkened car,
buttons undone,
wet and wanting,
I lust for more,
Of you.
From you.
Fogging up the glass,
fingers tangled,
licking the sweat,
off the base of your neck,
Inhale.
Exhale.
I am the kind of girl,
your mother warned you about.
I couldn’t tell what it was that we had. I felt different. I felt alive. Like the missing piece to a puzzle.
I craved to feel the heat of his body against mine, for his tongue to move in me.
But more than anything I desperately wanted it to be more than sex.
 |
| Original photograph by Tristan Kube |
Lust burns bright like a roman candle but is quick to subside, love shines maybe not so resplendently, but is the constantly warm yet illusory light we all keep chasing never to find. It is true, it is sad – love is only a feeling that we had.
From @AntonyCF:
She wanted his love, He wanted her for lust! Between the two of them, He was wanted by another for lust, She was wanted in to be love by another! Life's twisted comedy, we keep playing games we don't like and want to, but we're merely puppets on stage drama - Love/Lust
From @shamsmakkiya:
FLASHBACKS.
Lust for life.
Bosom friends.
Lotus seeds.
Gum trees.
Peacock feathers.
Sand dunes. Sarsaparilla roots.
Childish quarrels.
Venomous creatures.
Hearty wishes.
Sorrowful departure.
Happy meetings. Crazy parties.
Grand occasions.
Whimsical thoughts.
Memorable journeys.
Arab voices.
Historical love.
Unlimited messages.
Haunting memories.
Aching tears.
Unbearable reproaches.
Unexpected incidents.
Chance acquaintances.
Blissful seconds.
Love for death.
From @Mari_deSilva:
“How the legs machang? Like a bloody super-model!”
“I’d tap that any day!”
What it must feel like to be at the brunt of such objectification. The humiliation and indignity of it all must be unimaginable. So demeaning.
Must feel good to be able to turn a few heads though no?
From Human to Turd:
Her mother often looked at him insinuatingly and on some occasions even let fly a sarcastic and caustic remark which he judiciously chose to ignore. She never trusted him from day one. To her he looked (not so much the cheat but) a free-spirit who would one day break her daughter’s heart. She was wrong.
From @wikifreakz:
The ballroom was ablaze with the radiant disco lights.
The ecstatic Tango music bursted in the fullest spirit.
Their torsos brushed each other.
He sighed emitting weed stench: a furnace -literally.
Their desires popped up swiftly just like the bubbles of the beverages served.
The neon board at the entrance read:
'THE VALENTINE'S SAGA - 2013'
From @capt_sparkly:
In your darkened car,
buttons undone,
wet and wanting,
I lust for more,
Of you.
From you.
Fogging up the glass,
fingers tangled,
licking the sweat,
off the base of your neck,
Inhale.
Exhale.
I am the kind of girl,
your mother warned you about.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
June 3: War & Peace
 |
| Original photo by @Mari_deSilva |
From @Mari_deSilva:
Travelling up to Jaffna for the first time after the war in 2010, I couldn’t help but notice the charred, head-less Palmyrah trees that lined either side of the A9. They just stood there – broken. The sole witnesses of the bloody…the brutal. The blackened remnants of a Victor's peace.
 |
| Original photo by Tristan Kube |
Doves flying in the aftermath of war, betwixt the setting sun and the early dark, giving resonance to ancient wars and the never-ending battles fought – to be won and lost.
In my pensive state a hesitant thought sprang aloud; “one day would the end be brought about by a blinding light and a mushroom cloud?”
From mongrel:
"Let's flip a coin on it"
The brothers were to go their seperate ways. Their blood coursed in opposite directions. One felt closer to their motherland; the other like father like son. In one hand, a ticket for the Ruhunu Kumari and a ticket for the Yaal Devi.
"I call heads"
In the other hand - each other.
From theshadowseeker:
I shot him and he died. I was the only one left protecting the fort. I couldn't see where my comrades were hiding. Weapon ready, I advanced.
"Ah! Watch where you are going child!"
"Come and have tea boys".
My dead victim stuck his tongue out at me and reached for a biscuit.
From @shamsmakkiya:
The constant war waged against her inner self drained her blooming energy.
External pressures nagged her feeble life.
None bothered to understand her likes and dislikes.
Her concrete attitude was all that brought her peace of mind.
Ultimately, she harnessed herself to face every adversity with complete resoluteness.
From @wikifreakz:
'Shehzad weds Tehreem'
The wedding ceremony was underway in a joyous spirit.
'May peace and prosperity be with you two,' the elderly Hakim wished the duo in Pashto.
The moment the 'Aina mosaf' ritual started, something blasted.
Everything went blank.
¤
'At least fifteen suspected Al-Qaeda militants killed in rocket strikes in South Waziristan,' reported CNN.
From @PennyKinned:
“It’s confirmed, ma’am. He’s contacted all the key operatives. He’s the mastermind!”
“Excellent.”
“Should we arrest him?”
“So he can keep pulling the strings from his jail cell for years to come? No. Think up a story, finish him off.”
“But ma’am--”
“Do it, agent. The price of peace is this secret, dirty war.”
Monday, June 3, 2013
June 1-2: Black & White
From @sharasekaram:
Black and white. Ebony and ivory. Cream and ash. Him and her. You and me. This is the story of how opposites attract. How two people from two completely different worlds, find themselves bound together by that one force – love. Love can make two worlds collide, but does that also mean destruction is imminent?
From @BatmanEarth12:
I am supposed to see blue and gold halos, but the only thing I am seeing now are black & white lines like the kind you find behind packets of Oreo.
Even acid cant quench my emptiness.
Why do I want to be normal? Is it because the other angels are calling me an abomination?
Its not my fault that I am a Nephilim.
From @gillian.nair:
You're sad and insignificant
You're lonely and fragile
You're broken and withdrawn
You're unforgiving
You're black. The darkest colour of your heart.
You're lonely dark soul.
You're alone and fucked up.
You're not 50 shades of grey
You're white and pure.
Honest and content.
You're mine.
From @AntonyCF:
This world is not black and white my child - a dying father.
He saw both black and white in her eyes - looking at his daughters eyes
Black and White, opposite polars of the same line! Just like you and me - two brothers
Once white, now black, evil times are upon us - said the tribes chief
From @shamsmakkiya:
The two thick friends,
Known as bridge jumpers,
Wagered a fortune.
Headed for the millionaire's row.
Sat majestically.
The flag dropped.
Their eyes were fixed on the black and white.
Tension rised.
Ended in a dead heat.
No!
Deemed the photo finish.
The black captured the win.
Anger emanated.
Money does break the fragile bonds.
From Saumya Fernando:
She sat down with her steaming coffee and relaxed her painful right leg on the stool nearby balancing the album on her lap. Taking a deep breath while opening it with her shaky hand, she read; Our Wedding. Her favourite black and white photograph. If only life had been as simple and clear as this.
From theshadowseeker:
Sun tanned skin covered partially by the white shirt and white flowing trousers. His black hair whisked up by the sea breeze as he walks barefoot, feet sinking into the sand. I dip into the pools of black within white that are his eyes. Explosions of colour within me, warm wet and undeniable.
From kahlusudda:
white teeth / yellow teeth / coffee stains / nicotine // white paper / brown paper / cellotape / book covers // yellow weather / brown leather / red floor / white socks // blue shorts / black socks / purple bruise / orange juice // blu-tack / white cap / red hat / black cat // straw hat / thatched roof / thunder bucket // under kitchen / table sink // black hole / white eyes // black whole / white eyes
From @wikifreakz:
The king was diagnosed with a brain tumour.
*
A prophecy claimed that a talisman buried under an ancient reservoir would bring him longevity.
Several black magic rituals were performed. Billions spent on excavations.
Meanwhile the rebels criticized 'It's just another white elephant'.
*
Months later..
Something miraculous happened.
The tests confirmed:
'HE hasn't got ANY!'
From @ Mari_deSilva:
On again, off again, they never fully got each other out of their systems. Now with different partners, they were good friends, comfortable and sincere. After a few drinks, he just wanted to hold her hand...ruffle her hair - nothing more. As his partner looked on from afar, she shifted uneasily, but didn't pull away.
From @PennyKinned:
Sunday morning is all about those black-and-white sheets.
Sitting on the porch with a pile of unread newspapers from the week, sipping hot masala chai. Reading in companionable silence. Rustle-rustle-rustle. Occasionally swapping stories. “Listen to this…” Cutting out adverts and articles for family and friends. Snip-snip.
It’s perfection. So…no news app for me, thanks.
Black and white. Ebony and ivory. Cream and ash. Him and her. You and me. This is the story of how opposites attract. How two people from two completely different worlds, find themselves bound together by that one force – love. Love can make two worlds collide, but does that also mean destruction is imminent?
From @BatmanEarth12:
I am supposed to see blue and gold halos, but the only thing I am seeing now are black & white lines like the kind you find behind packets of Oreo.
Even acid cant quench my emptiness.
Why do I want to be normal? Is it because the other angels are calling me an abomination?
Its not my fault that I am a Nephilim.
From @gillian.nair:
You're sad and insignificant
You're lonely and fragile
You're broken and withdrawn
You're unforgiving
You're black. The darkest colour of your heart.
You're lonely dark soul.
You're alone and fucked up.
You're not 50 shades of grey
You're white and pure.
Honest and content.
You're mine.
From @AntonyCF:
This world is not black and white my child - a dying father.
He saw both black and white in her eyes - looking at his daughters eyes
Black and White, opposite polars of the same line! Just like you and me - two brothers
Once white, now black, evil times are upon us - said the tribes chief
From @shamsmakkiya:
The two thick friends,
Known as bridge jumpers,
Wagered a fortune.
Headed for the millionaire's row.
Sat majestically.
The flag dropped.
Their eyes were fixed on the black and white.
Tension rised.
Ended in a dead heat.
No!
Deemed the photo finish.
The black captured the win.
Anger emanated.
Money does break the fragile bonds.
From Saumya Fernando:
She sat down with her steaming coffee and relaxed her painful right leg on the stool nearby balancing the album on her lap. Taking a deep breath while opening it with her shaky hand, she read; Our Wedding. Her favourite black and white photograph. If only life had been as simple and clear as this.
From theshadowseeker:
Sun tanned skin covered partially by the white shirt and white flowing trousers. His black hair whisked up by the sea breeze as he walks barefoot, feet sinking into the sand. I dip into the pools of black within white that are his eyes. Explosions of colour within me, warm wet and undeniable.
From kahlusudda:
white teeth / yellow teeth / coffee stains / nicotine // white paper / brown paper / cellotape / book covers // yellow weather / brown leather / red floor / white socks // blue shorts / black socks / purple bruise / orange juice // blu-tack / white cap / red hat / black cat // straw hat / thatched roof / thunder bucket // under kitchen / table sink // black hole / white eyes // black whole / white eyes
From @wikifreakz:
The king was diagnosed with a brain tumour.
*
A prophecy claimed that a talisman buried under an ancient reservoir would bring him longevity.
Several black magic rituals were performed. Billions spent on excavations.
Meanwhile the rebels criticized 'It's just another white elephant'.
*
Months later..
Something miraculous happened.
The tests confirmed:
'HE hasn't got ANY!'
From @ Mari_deSilva:
On again, off again, they never fully got each other out of their systems. Now with different partners, they were good friends, comfortable and sincere. After a few drinks, he just wanted to hold her hand...ruffle her hair - nothing more. As his partner looked on from afar, she shifted uneasily, but didn't pull away.
From @PennyKinned:
Sunday morning is all about those black-and-white sheets.
Sitting on the porch with a pile of unread newspapers from the week, sipping hot masala chai. Reading in companionable silence. Rustle-rustle-rustle. Occasionally swapping stories. “Listen to this…” Cutting out adverts and articles for family and friends. Snip-snip.
It’s perfection. So…no news app for me, thanks.
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