The broken kaleidoscope wasn’t reflecting darkness. Neither did it trap black spots.
The broken kaleidoscope reflected more colors with a vengeance.
Pieces of blue, pink, orange, green, yellow, and a mix of more colors. It sparkled brilliantly as the more broken pieces accumulated.
Broken doesn’t have to mean losing the ability to shine. Often, being broken lets you show up without your shackles. Perhaps, when you thought you were broken, in fact, you broke off the chain that held you back letting you break free.
Either way, it’s time to shine brightly without fear like the kaleidoscope.
This piece is written in response to the one hundred and ninth edition of Fiction Monday for the word prompt ‘SPARKLE’ hosted at Reflections by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell.
I have recounted this story many times before. Each time I add bits and pieces to the story to tweak it and spice it up, making it sound unbelievable, yet captivating. Without fail, my audience devoured the unbelievable story marveling at my storytelling abilities.
But, I never dared to tell a soul the truth. How will tell anyone that it wasn’t a story? Will anyone believe me that in fact, it was not a story, but an incident that I experienced in reality?
Being a follower of my heart, I hardly listened to my parents or anyone else. So during that camping trip in the fall, when I wandered off from where we camped, I did that knowing that I was expected to do so. The path I followed took me to an unexpected turn of events.
Was it smoke or fog, I didn’t care. I was swallowed by the haze and could hardly see what lay ahead. The 14-year-old I was almost certain that this was a mistake. Maybe I shouldn’t have explored the uncharted territory all by myself. But it was too late to have a change of heart. I knew my eyes were welling up, but strangely tears didn’t touch my cheeks. To be honest, I had a feeling I was not visible in that weird place. I couldn’t touch my hands or body. I couldn’t see my own hands or legs. Even if my family came looking for me, how would have they spotted me if I was invisible? My heart let out a gasp and I screamed my lungs out. Did my terrifying voice cut through that thick haze of fog? I was not sure.
Then, it appeared – a tiny flicker of light moved toward me as if it was held by someone. But there was no one carrying the lantern. I could see the lantern hanging in front of me nothing holding it or even touching it, but staying there supported by nothing but the haze. It moved slightly to my right and I took it as an indication to follow the lamp. The lantern moved again to my right and I followed the light, hoping that I would get out of that scary place.
After walking for what seemed like hours, I saw familiar trees standing tall and leaves on the ground. At a distance, I could hear my elder brother calling out my name. I called back with great joy, tears rolling down my cheeks. I ran toward Steve calling out his name. Then I stopped to say thanks to the person carrying the lantern. But to my disappointment there was no person or lamp.
Was it magic? Was it something evil? Who will believe my story? Unbelievable, isn’t it?
This “fictional” piece is written in response to the one hundred and third edition of Fiction Monday for the word prompt ‘MAGIC’ and the above picture prompt hosted at Reflections by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell.
“Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.”
― Kahlil Gebran
This was a beautiful poem indeed. Though my shot didn’t capture the vibrancy of the scene completely, I would like to share this picture. The gorgeous green canopy waving with the tunes of the breeze was a spectacular view. The blue sky and sea created a gorgeous backdrop.
“Sana, are you listening? ” Riya’s voice nudged her. Although her mind has left the park and the bench they occupied a while ago, she nodded and added hurriedly before Riya could point out Sana’s absent-mindedness “let’s walk a bit. I am feeling sleepy sitting here enjoying this beautiful breeze. ”
Sana didn’t want to talk about what had been ravaging her mind. Riya is a sweet, caring, and honest friend. She will come up with a hundred solutions in ten minutes if Sana reveals what’s in her mind. But Sana was not ready to try out Riya’s solutions. She wanted to deal with her problem in her own way.
As the friends walked around the park, Sana noticed a lone figure sitting still on a swing nearby. She walked next to the swing without acknowledging Riya’s chatter.
“Hey! Sanaa! Where are you going now? ” Riya looked slightly annoyed by her friend’s distracted behavior.
Seeing Sana pick up the cute teddy bear sitting all alone on the swing, Riya hollered, “one of the kids must have left her toy here by mistake. “
The teddy bear in her hand seemed to be happy when she picked it up. Sana, too, felt a jolt of happiness, holding the little brown bear in her hand. She hadn’t had one in a long time. She felt this teddy was waiting for her there. The stuffed toy would make a great companion. Someone to share her concerns with, without being flooded with a thousand questions and solutions. Sana was sure this teddy bear wouldn’t judge her a bit.
She walked back to Riya holding her new friend with a smile lighting up her face.
This “fictional” piece is written in response to the one hundred and second edition of Fiction Monday for the word prompt ‘DARK’ and the above picture prompt hosted at Reflections by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell.
Sakshi couldn’t keep her cafe open today. Not today. Not after what had happened.
Usually around 3:30 in the evening the two sisters would stop by her cafe. Their mom was a barista there. Most of the times the kids would hangout in the cafe helping their mom with the customers in between catching up with their homework.
Sakshi adored the kids. They were 9 and 7. Today though, everything changed.
It took just another crazy kid and a gun to change just about everything. The crazy school shootings never happened where they lived. But this time it was their turn.
One of the sisters got shot when this crazy person rampaged the school with a gun. Michelle, their mom couldn’t stop shaking when the news broke out. Her little one is in the hospital in a critical state.
It’s insane how many little lives have lost because of the flaws of different people – authorities, the government, a neighbor. Little ones are being killed in their school yard and the parents are tearing apart.
How many more lives! What’s the point in keeping anything open when the next generation is killed before their innocent smile fades away. Sakshi’s mind was overwhelmed with unanswered questions.
Unfortunately she knew no one was going to give her or anyone who lost their dear ones a reasonable answer anytime soon. It’s a mad world after all.
The light continued to glimmer fiercely showing its protest.
This “fictional” piece is written in response to the ninety-ninth edition of Fiction Monday for the word prompt ‘FIERCE’ and the above picture prompt hosted at Reflections by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell.
This poetry piece is written in response to the ninety-fourth edition of Fiction Monday for the word prompt ‘SIMMER’ hosted at Reflections by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell.
my path ahead is filled with lifeless trees staring into oblivion.
i move forward not knowing where i end up eventually. the skeletons of the trees — are they guiding me somewhere? or steering me to something dreadful? do they represent the nightmares i try to run away from or the spring of hope that could appear in the distant future?
my journey continues, despite the eluding answers
for now, i will find contentment in pursuing this journey that leads to nowhere.
Joining Parul’s #ThursdayTreeLove with this tree shot from Salt Lake River in Mesa, Arizona. We hiked this area in the last weekend of February –and it was a wonderful experience. Some trees resembled the ghostsof their past. What stories are they hiding? I wonder. The above verses are a figment of my imagination. I hope you enjoy this read.
Mrs. Moorthy was the first friend Riya made in this place. That was almost nine years ago. Today, the park looked empty without her, thought Riya wistfully.
Riya was unsure of the move to this new city. But when a good opportunity knocked on her door, moving away from her familiar neighborhood and building a new life in an unfamiliar big city was the option. After a nervous first week at the office, Riya came down to take a stroll in the nearby park where she lived.
That’s when she met Mrs. Moorthy for the very first time. An elderly woman in her 70s living with her husband in the same community as hers. Mrs. Moorthy immediately recognized the homesickness on Riya’s face and talked to her like a long-lost friend.
Riya was grateful for Mrs. Moorthy. She would’ve never felt comfortable talking to an elderly person like her as she would to a friend.
From that onwards, every weekend they met at the park sharing stories from Riya’s office and Mrs. Moorthy’s life.
For Riya, Mrs. Moorthy was a reliable friend. Her advice was always spot on. She confided everything in Mrs. Moorthy. How much Riya cherished this friendship she knew from day one. But today she realized how much she had missed Mrs. Moorthy’s companionship.
It’s been only a week since Mrs. Moorthy departed this world along with Riya and the park they met regularly.
Mrs. Moorthy’s pearls of wisdom on flavors of life stayed with Riya, but her absence tormented her. Maybe, those pearls of wisdom would guide her to navigate the grief of Mrs. Moorthy’s departure and find another flavor of life.
This five-sentence fiction piece is written in response to the eighty-ninth edition of Fiction Monday for the word prompt ‘FLAVOR’ and the above picture prompt hosted at Reflections by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell.
He felt that he was the luckiest man alive as his newborn baby snuggled in his arms. Nothing else mattered at that moment. It was as if the sun was shining only for them.
The new day of his life radiated love like he never experienced before.
This five-sentence fiction piece is written in response to the eighty-fifth edition of Fiction Monday for the word prompt ‘LOVE’ and the above picture prompt hosted at Reflections by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell.
This piece is written in response to the eighty-first edition of Fiction Monday for the above picture prompt hosted at Reflections by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell.
Void Thoughts 