love.
#WritcoStoryPrompt104
Do you believe that there's a love story planned for you? If you think so, share your thoughts in form of story with us.
Dear diary,
I believe.Or at least that's the words I whispered in my head,my fist placed on my chest.The store room was small,dark corners engulfing the spilled contents of the toppled-over wastebins in shadows.Every day I prayed here,palms pressed together,for life and love.I stared at the faintly glimmering flame dancing in the wind and in the Holly lamp through the jet-black layer of straight as heck hair.Then back as the oil painting of a god,elephant trunk drawn on to emphasise the deep folds and the gleaming horns.A smile lifted the edges of my lips.A in-spite-of-myself smile.The person wrapped in a scarf like her olive -skinned neck was burrito fillings,her long eyelashes fluttering wildly,her saggy cheeks,thin lips,creased forehead and arched eyebrows would never find love, right?
From,Malaa,on 12th October 2012.
12 October 2015:"Dear!"I squeak.Come here for a second,would you?"Faint,half-erased marks of a chalk were made on the yellowing pages of the leather-covered notebook.The door creaked open and from the crack a thin,bony man entered,a stubby moustache spread on his chin.smilingly,he fingers with the crumpled edges as he skimmed through.He looked up at me,tears dribbling down his rose-pink ,meaty cheeks."Don't,"I said,"get emotional again."He messed my hair,now dyed bubble-gum pink.I glanced at my husband,his pointy nose milky,white like the rest of his body and feet my sunken cheeks elevate as the corner of my lips twitch.Love,I finally decide,is what you create.And-i stared at mike in the present-i adore my creation.
© All Rights Reserved
Do you believe that there's a love story planned for you? If you think so, share your thoughts in form of story with us.
Dear diary,
I believe.Or at least that's the words I whispered in my head,my fist placed on my chest.The store room was small,dark corners engulfing the spilled contents of the toppled-over wastebins in shadows.Every day I prayed here,palms pressed together,for life and love.I stared at the faintly glimmering flame dancing in the wind and in the Holly lamp through the jet-black layer of straight as heck hair.Then back as the oil painting of a god,elephant trunk drawn on to emphasise the deep folds and the gleaming horns.A smile lifted the edges of my lips.A in-spite-of-myself smile.The person wrapped in a scarf like her olive -skinned neck was burrito fillings,her long eyelashes fluttering wildly,her saggy cheeks,thin lips,creased forehead and arched eyebrows would never find love, right?
From,Malaa,on 12th October 2012.
12 October 2015:"Dear!"I squeak.Come here for a second,would you?"Faint,half-erased marks of a chalk were made on the yellowing pages of the leather-covered notebook.The door creaked open and from the crack a thin,bony man entered,a stubby moustache spread on his chin.smilingly,he fingers with the crumpled edges as he skimmed through.He looked up at me,tears dribbling down his rose-pink ,meaty cheeks."Don't,"I said,"get emotional again."He messed my hair,now dyed bubble-gum pink.I glanced at my husband,his pointy nose milky,white like the rest of his body and feet my sunken cheeks elevate as the corner of my lips twitch.Love,I finally decide,is what you create.And-i stared at mike in the present-i adore my creation.
© All Rights Reserved