the ring of world
where we go
round and round,
where we clamber
the highest mountains
for everything material,
to put up a drama
on a porcelain stage
drenched in water
of fate
*Written for Trifextra Week Seventy-Seven.
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Foreigners: A 100 Word Story
copyright – Indira by way of Scott Vanatter
“Riding on a truck is so much fun.”
“It is amazing.”
The truck driver smiled at the two foreigners who had hitchhiked their way on his truck to the next town.
“Where you go in town?” he asked in broken English.
“Just drop us by the main city hall,” echoed the girl speaking out every word in gaps as if talking to a kid. The boy just nodded along with a wide eyed-expression.
“Okay ji.”
It was twilight and the only light source was from the beam of the truck’s headlights. Nobody uttered a single word. The truck raced on.
*My second piece for Friday Fictioneers Writing Prompt.
Light and Dark
The thoughts of light had come to haunt her once again, when she was safely cocooned in her darkness.
“Why? Why do they come back?” she cried but there was nothing she could do. She had to face them because they were as real to her as her darkness.
She had left any hope for a bright future and was finally accepting her light-less fate. After falling down again and again, she had accepted her defeat against her demons who were now ruling her from within.
“Let me be alone. Let me be.”
The white glimpses of the happiness, the word she had forgotten, wouldn’t stop tormenting her. They were there to kill the very essence of her soul.
“Please go away. Please, I beg you,” she whimpered, suffocating in the brightness of those thoughts.
They were the instruments of her demons only to end whatever was left of her.
.
*Written in response to VisDare Writing Prompt.
Draw me, sketch me….
Draw me, sketch me, make a portrait of the being that is me
Show me who I am, what I do, which way I should go
Show it to me through your art, tell me who I am
Write me, read me, scan me, make a novel out of me
Let me know who I am, what I do, which way I should go
Let me be known through your creativity who I am
Won’t you do this for me, this much I ask from you
Would you do this for me, I ask nothing else from you
Show me, let me know- would you?- Draw me, sketch me,
write me, read me, make a portrait, write a novel out of me.
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