Twilight – The Earth Is His Canvas

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In this season so bleak,

I wonder if He just thought,

Let Me see what I can do,

With these colors amber, purple and blue!

In a winter ravaged by arctic winds and biting cold, I saw the most beautiful sight at dusk.

Hope you enjoyed!

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Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge: Selfie

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I just couldn’t not take part in this week’s photo challenge at The Daily Post.

Selfie

I am no good at selfies and am highly self-conscious as well. Then I remembered this photo I had clicked a few months back.

Its me with my favorite toy – Canon EOS 7D.

What I really love about this picture is the reflection of my son’s artwork in the mirror.

Hope you enjoyed this shot.

Her Father’s Lamp

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Image Source: Dawn M. Miller

“Are you sure it’s here?”

“I don’t know. All mother would say was that she sold it to Bob.”

“This is Bob’s stall, but I don’t see him or the lamp.”

Kate thought of her mother. Sweet but senile. Yesterday, she had sold most of her antiques to her neighbor, the nosy dealer. He had ripped her off.

All Kate needed was the lamp. Her father’s.

Her only memory of her father was that of him sitting in the study, with the lamp on and a book in his hands.

She was 4 when he died.

She was never going to find the lamp now, was she?

This is written as part of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge – Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. Today’s prompt is the above picture.

Hope you enjoyed.

An Alien Abroad

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matchbox__jeep_hurricane_concept-640x420Dubaku woke up all sweaty. Was it a nightmare? The silence terrified him. He was not used to it. Back home, the still night air was punctured by the sounds of gunfire and terrified screams.

He got out of bed. His feet sank into the soft “carpet”. He had learnt the word from Claire. Her house was covered in it. It felt like walking on a cloud.

Dubaku stretched his back. He couldn’t believe it, but he found that he missed the packed mud floor he was used to lying on. This large, soft rectangle in this new place felt like heaven at first. But he had tossed and turned all night.

The silence still bothered him. Like the calm before a storm. Or right before the Kwazai men raided his village on some nights. He did not want to think about that now.

There was something he wanted. Ah yes, water. He made his way to the kitchen downstairs. This house had so many rooms. Claire had left the hallway lights on. She knew he was scared.

In the kitchen, he halted and looked around. The stove and refrigerator loomed like big, steel giants in the dim light. He had never seen them before in his life. He still couldn’t say the word “refrigerator” correctly. That was where the water was.

He had never had such clean water before in his life. He didn’t know that water was colorless. Back home, it was brown. Sometimes red. But he didn’t want to think about that now.

He opened the refrigerator and let the frigid air envelop him. What was this thing? Was it a tree? A river? Or God? How did it have so much food and water inside it?

He took the bottle of water in his hands and opened it. He brought it to his lips, but couldn’t  drink it. He thought of his little sisters back home, the youngest had died after going without food and water for a week. His little heart filled with a sudden sadness.

Something on the floor caught his eye. It was Max’s “toy”. A smooth, red thing that Max stuck on the refrigerator. Dubaku forgot what it was called. Then he remembered, Max had a lot of things in the other big room. He made his way there in the dim light and found Max’s trucks. Some of them looked just like the one’s the Kwazai men used. Max had called them “Jeeps”. Dubaku picked up a shiny green one. He sat down on the carpet and played with it.

My entry for the daily prompt at The Poetry Question. Today’s prompt was – “An Alien Abroad” (Take a tour of your house through the eyes of a person who has never seen anything like it.)

Hope you enjoyed.

My Hands, They’re Glowing…

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My hands, they’re glowing. They’ve stopped shaking. Now, they glow. As if they are lit from within. As if my bones are luminous. I look down to see if my feet are glowing too. I can’t see them. The lower half of my body seems to be covered in a cloud of some sort. Is it the morphine they gave to ease the pain? But shouldn’t it be up in my head? How did the cloud cover my legs? Then I see them. More cloud-covered people. They look like demi-gods. Long hair, flowing white robes, glowing hands and the faces. They all look so much at peace. Is that how I look? Am I at peace too, at last?

My entry for the daily prompt at The Poetry Question. Today’s prompt was to start a story with “My hands, they’re glowing…”

Hope you enjoyed it.

Strangers In The Night

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He looked at her over the magazine he pretended to read. Its  been two days since he saw her. He missed her. But, did she even know he existed?

The last two days had been hell. She hadn’t seen him for two days. Was he looking now?

What secrets did her eyes hold? Will he ever know?

What must he think of her? Traveling alone every night. Did he think she was loose? Or did he realize her helplessness?

The train slowed to a halt. She got off. He looked at her again. Once more they parted, strangers in the night.

For my first writing experiment, I picked a prompt from Write Tribe blog. The prompt is ‘Strangers in the night’. And oh, did I tell you that it must be 100 words long.

Hope you enjoyed it.