2996 posts
  • chinahorom_ 1w


    Your smile is a lie in response to my greeting. Your lips drawn up so high I see the picture reflect on your glistening white teeth. You lie in silence. You lie through your teeth. You do not remember me, I know.

    I hand you your medicine and a red half-full plastic cup.

    "Here you go, Annie." I say. "Drink up."

    Yesterday, I called you Zuko and you responded with that lie of smile.

    You receive both with leafy hands, spilling water on your pink dress. You mutter a thank you then call the pills; Rhea, Luca and Blue.

    You have told me before that they are your best friends in the whole wide world. I know this is true to you even though the "whole wide world" is just this building you will never leave and that your siblings in the other rooms share those names. You haven't completely forgotten them...yet.

    You wolf everything down.

    I take back the cup and leave the room, pushing the heavy bolt in place. I walk away, whistling.

    Your best friends make you forget.


  • chinahorom_ 1w

    #fiction #combination #wod #confessionc

    Set A: Feet
    Set B: There is a river flowing inside

    Each section describes stages of grief:
    -Beneath my feet: Denial.
    -Ankle deep: Pain and anger
    -Knee deep: Bargaining
    -Chest deep and -In over my head: Depression and reflection.
    -Washed ashore: Acceptance.

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    //Beneath my feet//
    I am numb. I have pinched my skin as putty to cover the holes but the water keeps seeping through. I rip more of my skin and wad it up as a thick rag. I mop. I mop. I mop. But the ground remains wet so I pretend it isn't there. I go away to somewhere dry. I travel to a dream with nothing, not even the skin on my back.

    //Ankle deep//
    Pain serves a rude awakening and anger surges in me, sparks around me. I am angry with the water, the box that holds me, him and me. I am angry at him for leaving and at myself for wanting the impossible; having him here. Here, I am prisoner and warden and even the one that comes visiting. I scream. I yell. I wail. I burn in anger with such intensity that astrophysicists mourn the event of a dying star as I emit frustration stretched taut for what seems like billions of years.

    The water hisses below.

    //Knee deep//
    The wish to go back in time leaves a bitter taste on my tongue, why repeat the inevitable, to put him through the pain of dying twice.

    Yet what I wouldn't give for one more second of his cinnamon eyes gazing longingly at me. I would give up my sense of taste for this.

    Who do I bargain with for freedom when I will not let my self go? When I must complete the cycle. Is it a loop. What scale do I use? Is it a loop? When I must complete the cycle. Who do I bargain with for freedom when I will not let myself go?

    //Chest deep//
    I cannot see my reflection when I am in the water. Especially this one. Grief is denser than water. Murkier. So I reflect inwards. There is a mirror in each of our minds, it is called memory. I reflect in recollection and marinate myself in memory. I soak up every flavour of its confessions in inertia. This water is colder than ever. This water has frozen my heart.

    //In over my head//
    There is a river flowing inside now. I gulp in air before I am covered. Engulfed. Submerged. Baptized. In my own tears.

    Crash over me. Crash over me.

    //Washed ashore//
    Then I am on my bed flipping the last page of Chimamanda's Purple Hibiscus.
    Wiping the last of my tears and realizing that the river did not come to drown me but teach me to float. I may not get over this loss but my head is now raised and my mindset is in a way, rinsed. Reformed.

    I see a rainbow bent in an arc,
    a still dance of joy.
    My smile is a keystone
    To my heart's arch.


  • shruti_bhatt 1w

    #fiction #216


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    बेशक वो ज्यादा खूबसूरत है मुझसे।
    उसकी मांग में तुम्हारे नाम का सिंदूर जो है।

  • eishasarkar 2w

    Shadow & Soul, Book 1 of The Goa Saga by Eisha Sarkar

    Saysha Singh, a beautiful, multiracial young woman from Delhi, meets Aeram Khan, a gorgeous model-actor in college and they fall madly in love with each other. Aeram is the only legal heir of the Albuquerques, a family descended from Afonso de Albuquerque, the sixteenth-century Portuguese statesman and conquistador of Goa. After a few weeks of passionate romance, Saysha gets wary of committing her life to a controlling boyfriend. She leaves him and moves to Shimla. He moves to Mumbai and becomes a very successful actor and entrepreneur.

    Three years later, when he is in Shimla for a shoot, Saysha meets him again and they rekindle their romance in secret until he goes as her date to a masquerade ball where he unexpectedly reveals his identity. Saysha becomes fodder for primetime TV news. Aeram brings her back to Delhi with the help of his gay half-brother and stunt-double, James Albuquerque. After persuading her father, an army officer, Aeram and Saysha marry in court. Aeram and James strive to protect her privacy and dignity at all cost. However, living under the shadow of her famous husband makes a dent in Saysha's self-esteem and she tries to carve her own identity.

    When Saysha finds out that James loves Aeram, she initially is shocked but gradually realises that of the two, James is the better man. She is attracted towards him in spite of his sexual orientation. Aeram gets jealous of their friendship but cannot get rid of James. In a graveyard in Goa, Saysha discovers there is more to Aeram and James's bond than what they show.

    Now available on Amazon Kindle

  • darkmoon696 3w

    This is part-8 of my ongoing short story. I hope that you'll give it a read and comment below to let me know of any grammatical mistakes and also any inclusives to the next part. I'll surely consider them and implement in the next part. ✌️ Happy Reading❤️

    @writersnetwork @miraquill @mirakeeworld

    #shortstory #part8 #horror #drama #action #heartfelt #pod #wod #miraquill #mirakee #fiction

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    The Short Story- Part 8

    ‘Well Hello there!! April, I guess we haven’t met each other till now’ the priest says, as he got up from the couch. April is confused and a bit scared from seeing the priest. ‘Yes, we haven’t till now’, April replies. We all get together in the main hall and the priest places candles all around the room at every corner. After he is done placing the candles, he comes to us, while we are sitting around the dinner table. The priest takes out a bible from his suitcase and two bottles of, something that appeared to be some sort of sacred water. I turn off all the lights in the house and return to my chair.

    We gave a couple of sleeping pills to April, mixed in her glass of water, without her consent. She had this glass of water after a couple of minutes of her conversation with the priest. The pills knocked her out, which made it easy for us to hold her hands and legs while the priest started his prayer from the Bible. Eventually, April’s body started feeling heavy for us, and difficult for us to hold.

    After a couple of minutes into the exorcism, we start hearing the same voices from April, that we heard every night. Natalie and I are petrified watching our little girl like this. Dominating all the voices, there is a horrific male voice saying ‘This is the beginning of the end; Satan is going to rip your tongues out....


  • the_amorist 3w

    S H E

    Atop the Iron Lady did our fates intertwine
    The title should've been a sign
    In store for me be heaps of drama
    Unfortunately I was just so sure
    Call her enucleation
    For she be the cause of my trauma
    Yet she be the one I(eye)fell(Eiffel) for
    Told me she's a hetero on a quest for a hero
    But she was far from being straight with me
    Liken her to spaghetti the way she
    Stops being straight after she's wet
    Life with her be akin to russian roulette
    You never know what you're gonna get
    Any act of loyalty from her would be an upset
    Pondering why I haven't up and left yet
    As I sit here with regret
    I think of her a corsette
    Suffocating and leaving you out of breath

  • nocturnal_enigma 4w

    * 26.9.2021; 4.21 P.M (Malaysia)

    #ficletterc #fiction #letter #character @writersbay
    * Write letter to favourite fictional character. My #crush #AHBA like #PinkPanther too. His pseudonym is Pink Pen-ther. (He's not here though.)

    * Pan = A person's face

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    My letter to Pink Panther ~

    Dear, Pink Panther.
    This is a fan letter.
    Please read it later.
    Soon, it will be winter.

    Hope you're in the pink...
    of health. What do U think...
    about? Let's skate on ice-rink!
    Can U hear? The ices clink!

    You have a pleasant pan.
    Can you please spend...
    time with my crush, pen-
    pal? May U live long span.

    © Nuruliffa Emirah
    @ nocturnal_enigma

  • lovenotes_from_carolyn 4w

    A work of fiction (with a bit of my corny humor there at the end), for the personification challenge. ����

    by lovenotes_from_carolyn
    There's a graveyard of memories
    Lurking in my mind
    And it won't leave me alone
    It won't leave the past behind

    It whispers all my what-ifs
    As it fills me with regret
    While purloining all my peace
    Because it won't let me forget

    It haunts me with the visions
    Of the life I could be living
    I've begged for it to stop
    But it's cruel and unforgiving

    Like a ghostly apparition
    Ever present in my head
    It shouts the shoulda, coulda, woulda's
    Every night when I'm in bed

    Though tormented and tortured
    I cannot help but smile
    For none of this will matter
    When old age makes me senile.
    ©lovenotes_from_carolyn 9/25/2021

    #personification #writersnetwork #miraquill #wod #fiction #humor

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  • darkmoon696 4w

    In the coming few days, I'll be posting one of my short stories, that I have also published on Amazon Kindle, in various segments. This is Part-1 and I hope you'll stay in touch with the piece as we go through the gripping and evocative challenges that the characters experience.
    And yeah, don't forget to comment below any kind of suggestions to the story as we go and I'll surely consider them and make the appropriate changes in the story.✌️
    @writersnetwork @miraquill @mirakeeworld

    #shortstory #part1 #horror #fiction #drama #action #thriller #love #death #heartfelt

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    A Short Story- Part 1

    ‘Good Morning Students’, I said as I walk into the class with a brown leather suitcase held in my hand. After having an incredible brainstorming session for about an hour, I finally give the students a break. I, then, walk back to my cabin and start packing my bags. As I am doing so, my colleagues surprise me with a cake and congratulate me. The celebration lasted for two hours, after which, I drive home in my Chevrolet Cruze. And that is how I celebrated my last day at the college as a chemistry professor.

    For the first time in my life, I have plenty of time and I don't have anything planned. I knew retirement would be monotonous but for the first few days, everything started seeming like a temporary change in my life and I thought to myself that I will eventually start teaching again. I felt that way since I am afraid to accept the reality, that is, my retirement.


  • uttkarsh_15 4w

    When our verses will unite ,
    Our universe will grow into a multiverse letting us live together .

  • jichawrites 5w

    Bubble Popped

    You should not ruin someone's fantasy
    Maybe its the only thing that keeps them motivated; tthat keeps them away from negativity and toxicity that is bought by this world's reality.
    For you its lame and nonsense but maybe for them jts something special that they hold unto it.

    Don't ruin someone's fantasy
    it's like telling a 3 year old kid that Santa isn't real.


  • ms_lonely 5w

    And she said: "I suffered more because I am emotional,compassionate and empathetic and I expected the same from the world too.How Naive of Me".*Sigh*


  • ms_lonely 5w

    And she said: "you know broken people don't help you heal instead they rub salt on your wounds and make sure it hurts for the longest time.So heal yourself alone."


  • rumaysah 5w

    Happiness can't be bought

    Can you force happiness?

    Happiness is natural but, what if it doesn't suffice? When it doesn't want to be felt.

    At 24, you'd say "you are just starting your life."

    So, then, why do I feel old, worn out and tired?

    Inspite earning great in dollars, why can't I feel the joy of living?

    Why does it feel like I am drowning in some unreal ocean?

    Why do I feel sick? Why do I feel awkward and bereaved?

    With a Master's degree and one other; with 3 novels down the drain, where does the emptiness come from?

    In all, when will all the troubles cease?

    When will the pains stop?

    When will peace reign over anguish?

    Now, you don't want to come with the "you are just 24, you have a long way to go" phrase.

    This path that I have walked, and crawled, ran, for the past 24 years, I am tired.

    And dying. Of abdominal cancer.

    I ask again, when will all the troubles cease? When will we laugh with the whole of our mouth?

    Most certainly, never!

  • the_amorist 5w


    His Pupils dilate
    As his eyes fixate
    On the woman named Ellie
    His hips gyrate as he
    Begins to aniticipate
    Having his way with her already
    "Too soon" he mutters to himself
    In the bushes where he waits
    Weilding a harpoon
    Sauntering over with the greatest of composure
    As he knew from the minute
    He laid his eyes on her
    She was already a goner
    Habitually emphatic
    Young women usually were
    Always proving easy prey to his manoeuvre
    He walks up to her beside the parked range rover
    "Excuse me, can I use your phone?
    I was returning from a trip
    When my car broke down
    I'd use mine but I lost it
    Out of my pockets did it slip"
    Wary at first, till her affinity to aid those in need burst
    "sure, why don't you come on in"
    Unbeknownst to her
    Her life was in for a spin
    After exchange pleasantries
    Bantering of music from the seventies
    She comes to find his name is Barry
    'Twas the night of the blood moon
    And in the few moments
    It still set alight(satellite)
    The world with its light
    There he walked into her abode
    Licking his lips
    Primed and ready to be her eclipse
    Casting a shadow of impending doom
    Behind her as she walks to her room
    The lights start to flicker
    As a chilling feeling courses through her circuit
    Running up her spine
    As she turns around to find him
    Sniffing her hair,
    Savouring the moment
    The way a profound connoiseur
    Would to wine

  • muneeb_gulzar 5w

    Whenever I write About you,
    My pen Everytimes makes you mine.

  • the_amorist 5w


    Cuts exhilarate
    Thoughts accelerate
    Sorrows reverberate
    Stimulate brain with self hate

    Hope in vain
    Stylus meets vein
    Blade meets membrane
    All to numb the pain?

    Apparel with blood stain
    Obtained from the girl named Jane
    Who in cold blood slain
    With not a moment to complain

    Off did her cork pop
    Like a bottle of champagne
    And to the floor did it drop
    When will it stop?

    The seemingly endless string
    Of homicides that began in spring
    Capable of making the quietest loner sing
    Oft leaving behind trails of vital fluid and entrails

    Mutilated fingers with recently painted nails
    On handrails holding on for dear life
    Frozen in time and fear
    Of the apparition wielding a trench knife

  • ms_lonely 5w

    And she said:
    "I am not immortal and being human I have the right to end all the toxic relationships and be free and I have to do it before there is nothing left of me.And I am sorry if anyone disagree but I'll still do it".


  • lovenotes_from_carolyn 5w

    by lovenotes_from_carolyn
    In the midst of an emotional upheaval
    Her doleful eyes were dotted daintily with dewdrops
    And her uninhibited inner sanctum was ripe with remorse and regret
    Thus she dared not dawdle nor dally
    Lest she might deliquesce, right there, in the place that she stood
    Hence she turned, in fact pivoted, in that pivotal moment
    And with ardent aplomb, she adroitly absconded through the appropriate aperture
    Whereupon, a long awaited apology was deftly delivered
    And two long lamenting lovers
    Reveled and rejoiced in their reunion.
    ©lovenotes_from_carolyn 9/14/2021

    #miss #dewdrop #wod #apologizec #writersnetwork #miraquill #alliteration #writersbay #fiction #freeverse

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  • ms_lonely 6w

    Human Leeches they don't suck on your blood but emotions and empty you to the point that there is nothing left in your heart,just a hole with an echo of death.