Read, Write & Publish Short Stories
She saw the window. It was closed. There was no sign of her having visited that room earlier. John took his wrist watch from the drawer of the side table.
When he realised that all the so called love, cravings and material things are transient and cannot give permanent joy and when his footsteps took him to the innermost Sanctum Sanctorum of the Temple
Your anxious waiting unsaid words, Your restless pacing in and out, Your prayers counting on the beads, For the safety of my worldly needs.
The softness of the breeze blows my tresses and in the pearly light I open my eyes, wholesome and hearty to face a new day. My spirits bounce back.
She accepted my love. I lived in a dream, wakeful and conscious but enslaved, incarcerated and totally immersed in her love.
Story of the Month Aug’16: I told my close friend Megha about our love this morning. She was surprised how a nerd like you can love anyone so intensely.
There was an old man with a white flowing beard. He was the guardian of the gates of all knowledge, concrete and abstract. His wisdom was beyond time and over centuries.
The heat rises again and all the thoughts drum together and create a bizarre music wild and weird that fills the head. The demons are out from their hiding, charged once again to dance.
For the first time he blushed and I loved him for it. I kissed him on his cheek. We went to Manali for a week, and strangely had a lovely time, for he left all the decision making to me!
I love you so much that you know I was scared that you might reject me, so…..I concealed this fact till now. But now I want to follow the dictates of my conscience.
