She was still a child to her parents. They were a happy family; full of love and laughter. A definition for ‘picture perfect.’ “Kelly, get up sunshine. It’s already late.” Her mother’s voice was gentle.
The thing that warms me is the sun,The thing which soothes me is the moon,Their colors, I see not, for I’m void of sight!
I loved the feeling of having you inside me- like a sweet burden. I would feel a tug at night, which proved that I had You inside me.
Veer and I had been best friends since our diaper days; while my daddy took me to the Masjid, his daddy took him to the temple. That was where the difference stopped between us.
The new pink puffy gown the girl wore was beautiful, with layers of satins and nets; she looked exactly like the little princess from the fairy-tales,
Story of the Month Sep’2013: The wind mellowed and it was now almost gentle like the fingers of a mother, touching her new born child. It was tender. He shivered.
There was a small smile at my lips as I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked grown up; and my eyes, they looked sharp, but lacked something important- life.
The children, lying on the floor, were all covered in mud; wore scraps of clothes that had been used repeatedly and been discarded by the rich.
My husband for three years stood there, leaning against the empty bark of the tree, looking guilty. His eyes were drawn to the floor, seeking refuge in the small fluttering of leaves
Her lips were pulled down condemningly and he shrunk back in fear. Her eyes held so much venom that he could taste them in his tongue.