July 23-28: Phrases of the Week

Hello storytellers!

Here are all the phrases for this week:

• "yellow submarine"
• "comfortably numb"
• "hello, I love you"

Use these to inspire your 55-word stories. Send all phrase-related stories to us by midnight TODAY.

Please include your twitter handle/real name/pen name in the email.

July 16-17: Patriot

Original photograph by @Mari_deSilva

From @Mari_deSilva:
“Do you love your country?” 
“Yes Sir!” 
“Would you do anything to protect it?” 
“Yes Sir!”
“Would you put it before everything else?”
“Yes Sir!”
“Would you sacrifice your life for it?”
“Yes Sir!”
“Would you sacrifice others’ lives for it?”
“.......Yes Sir?”

From Saumya Fernando:
“Haiyooo now of course the patriot will only be the ones licking their boots noh men”, Mrs. Bernard paused her sweeping to wipe sweat from her forehead. Mrs. Silva’s head bobbed over the wall. “Hmmm”, she coyly agreed. Mrs. Bernard continued, “This country’s going to the dogs and not a cat gives a rat’s arse”

From @shamsmakkiya:
"What if I write about myself? Am I eligible? No! What have I done?"

Linen-like curtains blurred my vision.

The more my brain looked for, the less I understood its significance.

All and sundry as an entity owes patriotism to the mother earth.

"Who is a patriot?"

My conscience never acknowledged its meaning.

From @wIkIfReAkz:
"I have always regarded myself, in the first place, as an African patriot."
--Nelson Mandela
(Today's his 95th birthday. This limerick is dedicated to dear Madiba)

Leader of South African Nation
Patriot, gives us inspiration
In Long Walk to Freedom
Mandela breathed seldom
For Freedom is his respiration!

From @PennyKinned:
Out there, he couldn’t remember the cause of his fervent patriotism. Had it been a belief that his country was somehow historically exceptional? Unique?

How delusional.

Gazing at blurry earth amidst countless stars, he made up his mind.

Thus it came to be that it was no national emblem but a plain white flag that claimed Jupiter.

From @wIkIfReAkz:
Thousands of patriots sacrificed lives, in the war of bringing back the Crown to the Nation.

A grand carnival was organized to celebrate the victory.

A duke was busy in reconstructing the infra-structure of an ancient city.


The point was: the chosen area was located in a treasure map -the very reason for the reconstruction.

July 15: Footsteps

From Priyanthie de Silva:
Footsteps in the sand, led me to the cave. Got a shock when I saw the contents. Dried bones & rags. What could have occurred here? Seems as though somebody lived in this deserted isle. I would like to know how he survived. Was he shipwrecked or was he abandoned here?

From theshadowseeker:
I fumble with the keys. The porch light is dim. My alcohol laced breath forms wisps of white as I breathe out deeply to steady my hands. The door creaks shut behind me.  As I make my way up the stairs, I hear them. One soft footfall after the next. I am not alone.

From @seniinthebox:
I waited.  
I listened,  
They came from behind but I did not turn, 
for they were not familiar. 
You had gone. 
But I was still waiting.  

From Saumya Fernando:
Without exaggeration Gold FM plays “Footsteps” at least twice a day, EVERYDAY. Without exaggeration, any time my mother decides to dedicate a song to a loved one on Gold FM she always picks “Footsteps”. Even though I laugh at her for her taste in music, I know I will miss it when I leave.

From @shamsmakkiya:
The motorbike revved at full speed.
Sirens went off from all four corners.
Yon stood an anorexic bod.
The cops pulled over and neared.
Followed the trails of footsteps.
Reached the farthest thicket.
To their bewilderment, his very marrow dripped out of his physique.

From @Mari_deSilva:
Daily he would watch his father abuse his mother...until one day he was able to back his father up against the wall, hands clasped around his neck, and threaten him never to touch her again. His father died alone and remorseful.

Always up for a ‘good drink’ - he said “I’m not like my father.”

From Mythify:
Her soles had been scraped raw by the pitiless desert sand. She struggled on, breath raggedy and uneven. Have to keep moving. Have to.

A few miles away, the tracker bent to examine the windswept footprints in the fading light. “This way,” he called to the others. Sheathing their knives, they set off in pursuit.

From @wIkIfReAkz:
Curious

Billy saw some strange traces on the sulphur surface. 'Footsteps?'

Far ahead he saw an undefined object.

It seemed nearer now.

"Shit! It might have spotted me," the very thought made his limbs icy.

He tried to run away, but felt crippled.

*


The last being remained on Mars was killed by Curiosity, the rover.

July 3-4: Wreckage

Original photograph by @Mari_deSilva

From @Mari_deSilva:It had to be here somewhere, she kept muttering to herself. Covered in dirt and soot, her clothes tattered, she relentlessly searched through the rubble of what once was her home. Finally she found it, eerily untouched by the destruction around it. There they stood smiling together – a happy family, as they should be.

From @rami_desh:The voices inside her head had been silent for a while. The taste of destruction had infected her tongue, cursed her very soul.

It was time to pick up the broken wreckage of her existence and awaken the voices once again.'

From @shamsmakkiya:No sooner the calamity took place, sorrow spreaded like the wild-fire.
The village at whole grieved over the bloodless lass.
The vicious lady, Mrs. Hagar, neither regretted nor admitted.
Patience tied the family with untiring prayers.
Years went by.....
Mrs. Hagar got afflicted by a life-threatening disease.
Divine punishment swept away the wreckage of flesh and bones.

From @wIkIfReAkz:Asylum
The well-packed trawler was heading towards Oceania..

The human luggages were dreaming of the fortunes that were only some 117 nautical miles away..

The monsoon sky seemed awfully gloomy just like their future..

*

TWO DAYS LATER:

The Oz navy spotted a suspicious object far off shore and found 68 migrants on the wreckage, dead.

From shanz@1971:Dreams come crashing down, marriages broken, families torn apart, all hope is gone,..all that is left is a wreckage...

From Capt Nihal de Silva:

In 1912 the world's most famous luxury liner "TITANIC" was launched and left on its' maiden voyage.and on the first night the invincible liner sank with over 1000 on board it took nearly 100 years to locate the "wreckage" ,but mysteriously no one  wanted to bring up the bodies and have a ceremonial proper burial.

June 30: Alone

From @cernoblog:

Are you the only one who feels that tyranny is the primal force tugging at the trajectory of politics? Does everyone around you think casting one's allegiance to a king every few years is democracy? Do your friends still pretend they live in one? Don't worry, with Chivas Regal, you are never alone.

From @Priyanthie de Silva:

I stood alone on the deserted beach,watching the sea gulls screeching overhead. What an ugly sound they made, for creatures so footloose & fancy free. Take the caged bird for example, they sang their hearts out, with such gay abandon! Nobody would know theirs was a cry of desperation.

From @Mari_deSilva:

It’s really not as bad as everyone perceives it to be, you know? Sometimes it’s all your heart craves for. The solace no other state of being can ever provide. I’m often warned that if I continue this way, I’d probably wind up alone one day. Sometimes I think that day can’t come soon enough.

From @shamsmakkiya:

Sisters' poisoned sister

Mrs. Hagar, a lady of fortune, desired the young man of characters for her daughter alone.

He declined her proposal.

Aggravated her anger.

She camouflaged it under her plotful grin.

Days later,

He bonded his dream-girl.

Mrs. Hagar threw them a grand feast.

His sister-in-law turned blue.

The poison consumed the budding soul.

From @wIkIfReAkz:

The echoing sound of ‘left-right-left’ is now over...

I'm sighing deeply, gazing at the empty parade-ground..

How paradoxical it's been:

feeling lonely, among routine bugles and a mass of worn-out berets and boots...

My first task will be fighting against anonymity..

*

Then I didn't know I would never identify the camouflaged soul of mine..

From @raisalw:

She sleeps in doorways.

Once she was a mother, but when she was done cooking, cleaning and raising them, they didn’t need her anymore.

So now she sleeps in shop fronts, alone. Except even those aren’t her friends- she has a scar from when one roller door shut on her face- a zip-line, measuring pain.

From Yasmin:

Growing up in a broken household had hardened her. She allowed no one inside her heart, because being alone was safest, she thought. But deep inside, she was lonely.

He loved her deeply; that much she knew, but it was unfair to expect him to understand her completely. He was, after all, only a boy.