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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2020
“Secrets carry weight, like lead.” Iris inhaled the pleasant air which was ripe with the dewy petrichor of the post-rain evening. A cool breeze ruffled the leaves of nearby lofty mango trees, all of which were well endowed with succulent yellow mangoes. The sky was shades of pretty pink and purple pastels. Making her way down the narrow path between the tall trees, she recollected...
The night had let down her curtains. One could see millions of brightly lit stars at close quarters, twinkling and giving the impression of a beautifully choreographed ballet. But it was the moon who stole the show. The moon was more beautiful than even the stars around. Everything seemed exquisite bathed in the mystic moonlight. A cool summer breeze blew, ruffling the leaves of a nearby olive tree. I quivered, feeling t...
They say that light always wins, overpowering the darkness, be it fiction or reality. Everyone glorifies the light, the yang, shunning the darkness and thinking of it as the 'wrong way of life. But without the dark, we wouldn't know of the light. This is my story. A story about darkness. A story where one surrenders to the orphic shadows which our demons thirst for. A story where yin triumphs.
I walked past the rigid security guard towards my new home. The smell of wood and paint, quite prominent. Anita, the real estate manager, kept on pestering me with the same question, "Are you perfectly sure you want to live here, Ailith? Not that it's a bad place, but are you positive? No one has lived here ever since the Victorian era, probably. Plus, this place does not receive much sunlight either, the...
The falling of white snow on the ashen ground, like silver glitter being sprinkled on paper, giving the winter life and making familiar streets a canvas for dreams. Quiet poetry forms in my soul, the warmth within bringing crystalline joy. Every tiny, sculpted snowflake, unique and worth a thousand smiles, a billion more uniting over the earth. It is the season when puddles turn to icy rinks, sparkling brightly upon the ...
Memories are hunting horns, Whose sound dies on winds. And we forget because we must, And not because we will. -Guillaume Apollinaire and Matthew Arnold ... I was pulled into a deep abyss as darkness engulfed me. And I just kept falling and falling. Pulled away from reality. The red-eyed creatures with the black fangs kept chasing after me. Their bony ...
"I have news. Good news, people." I looked around to see everyone meddling in each other's miserable mundane work. None interested in what I had to say, except for Bumbleweed.Now, who is Bumbleweed you ask? Bumbleweed is our goldfish. Very poofed up and golden(probably because no one feeds him regularly, and the poor soul has to live off the water which makes him round as it consumes more space). He looked at me with his wide eyes, flapping his fins in the little living space he had made for hi...
It is the type of coldness that reaches into my bones, as if my heart were a door left wide open to the icy wind, slamming only to open again. The only thing to do is keep moving, keep heading toward home if I only remembered. The sky is a rolling blanket of cloud, the color of wet ash, and the ground its dank reflection. Each step becomes a prayer for someplace safe as I walk, seeing the light from a faraway doorway in ...
"This is a bad idea, milady.", Amelia stated, huffing warm air into her shivering hands. "What if we get caught? The Lord will surely have my head, and, you too, will be given some punishment." Lillian, her little sister, who was barely a year younger than me, gasped loudly, "What if they force your hand in marriage to that pimplypoop?" She spatted out the name. Ah, pimplypoop...
The autumn had dressed for the coming season, donning her most vibrant hues. She had swept into our streets and woodlands with a humble boldness that invited the eye to see more than they otherwise might. The autumn took her pirouette, her sweet turn on the stage all around, and we were are all so blessed to be given such beauty. There were the browns that come as a comforting quilt to the earth, yet the rest are the hue...
From deepest ebony to melodic umber hues, from cream softened oranges to the greens that mature into a sea-spun sage - the fall had arrived and is as welcome as a long remembered song.The autumn had dressed for the coming season, donning her most vibrant hues. She had swept into our streets and woodlands with a humble boldness that invited the eye to see more than they otherwise might. We were are all so blessed to witness such beauty. There were the browns that come as some quilt to the earth, yet the rest are the hues of volcanoe...
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