Demons

How can my muse be apart from me? It is all that I’d like to be. It could also be the exact antithesis of that, I so love to whip. But the relativity is unmistakable. I may not have the courage to admit it’s me. Something or someone that once walked on the territory of … Continue reading Demons

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Color, Chroma, Pigment, Hue, Stain, & Tinge (& Shade)

Color, Chroma, Pigment, Hue, Stain and Tinge ….. by Bladud Fleas

the moon is rising...

a flash-fiction story

Snow White wished she hadn’t eaten the pink mushrooms. Even when you’re lost in the Green Forest and famished, circumspection is always advisable. Now she found herself in an extraordinarily quaint house, in its bed chamber to be exact, contemplating a row of seven small single beds. Each was dressed with an intensely cheerful counterpane, and on each headboard a different name had been painted: Color, Chroma, Pigment, Hue, Stain, Tinge and Shade. She had stumbled upon, and into, the home of the seven psychedelic dwarfs.

She felt a trifle faint then with the intensity of it and laid herself down across all of the little beds, width-wise, making sure her head was in Shade. Of course, this caused her feet to be in Color, which could have been worse (she didn’t want to think about which part of her was in Stain). She shortly…

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दिल में होली जल रही है

English translation in Comments section….

Playing with words

फिर यादों की हवा चली है
कैसी फिर यह आग लगी है
दिल में होली जल रही है ।१।

नशा है कैसा खुली ज़ुल्फ़ का
हुई है मुद्दत पर जाने क्यों
सांसों में भंग सी घुल रही है ।२।

बैठे हो तुम सामने मेरे
समंदर किनारे अल्हड़ शाम
गालों पे लाली मल रही है ।३।

किसने दी है थाप अमित
किसकी पायल की मधुर तान
ज़ज्बातों को यूँ छल रही है।४।

In response to: Reena’s Exploration Challenge # 79

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Lakshmi

Lakshmi ————– by Len

Len's Diary

Taking up Reena’s Exploration Challenge#79
by Reena Saxena,towritebasedonanyone of captioned words. This is my fictional contribution. Thanks for the mind prompt Reena.

Lakshmi sat beside the social worker in the central court’s waiting room, while the gods of Canada’s justice system divined her fate. The social worker tapping away on her iPhone paid little attention to her eight year old charge. Lakshmi sat there, disconsolate, drowning in waves of sadness, her mother’s screams continuing to echo through her head. She wondered how it was possible, that her mother had died in the car crash while she had not received even a single scratch. Lakshmi’s future was now up in the air, under negotiation with the judge, a choice of foster care or auntie.

The social worker pocketed her iPhone as auntie accompanied by a lawyer entered the waiting room. Auntie embraced Lakshmi with a glowing smile, ” You will live…

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