The windows were tall, the drapes a little too long that they crumpled while touching the ground. He lay in bed, eyes shut. A drop of sweat trickled down his temple. The building’s air conditioning was in no way helping the sultry weather and the air vent rattled as it took heavy ragged breaths.
I felt the hot afternoon sun the moment I jumped out of the school bus and skipped down the narrow mud road. The empty water bottle dangled around my neck as I began to walk faster. My black shoes were soiled and dusty and one sock was shorter than the other as always.
The invisible hand moves on the vast canvas, Moving the paintbrush with flourish, the Artist creates-
Today I thought about what I should write
The eyes needed to adjust to the dullness of the dingy room. The single window in the corner was dusty and blocked most of the sunlight from entering. The hand searched the uneven, cold wall for a light switch and clicked it on. A pale white light washed over the clutter that was the room….
There’s a window just a little open, What lies beyond isn’t certain Some say there’s sadness, some say there’s bliss, Some say it’s just nothingness But a nothingness you could never miss ?
Two people lost in remembered music, half hidden in the shadow of a castle on a moonlit hill, Louisa Clark and William Traynor were from contrasting worlds and would never have met each other if things weren’t the way they were.
The grass is green on neither side! The grass is green only when it is nurtured. Whether it is a 9-5 job or a freelancing job at your own time, each has its misconceptions. I’ve been writing as a freelancer for over two years now, and I have found myself in many strange, interesting and…