nabster121
The station was a humdrum of activity. In fact, for a 21st century metro station, it looked more like a village market on a Sunday afternoon. Bodies thronged and there wasn't a vacant space in sight. The price of petrol had gone up and so people were resorting to the cheapest and most efficient method of travel. Gone was the peace and sanctity. Gone was the luxury of inexpensive travel. The recession had hit home.
He embraced her tentatively. They had not met in over a year and the memories still haunted him. But when they parted and stared deep into each other's eyes, the longing sparked like the flame on a candle and as they held each other's gaze the flame grew stronger and they realized their first embrace after their period of separation would not be their last....
We often reserve the term 'painted' for an artist who imprinted upon a canvas a work of art. Imagine this; an author with his inky paintbrush painting dancing figures that stretched across barren lands and empty crevices in order to ultimately sculpt a masterpiece.
What is society's obsession with 'the limo?' Yes it is a fantastic way to express your social status and wealth, but really it is, like several other things, a superfluous materialistic expression.
My backpack was full of a range of items.. all antiquated and all abandoned... the items were as inconspicuous as the backpack itself... but the weight of the backpack was beginning to take its toll.. I needed food and water and a place to empty the contents of my swollen backpack
he looked upon the scoreline with despair. they were trailing 3 - 1 with only 20 minutes on the clock... the football from last night has been plaguing my mind, seriously need to find something else to despair over :p it's a sad life.
The canteen was buzzing with an air of finality as the senior students trooped in before the final assembly of their secondary education. However, the air of finality created a terse atmosphere as the laughter seemed forced and small talk pierced through everyone's pensive state. This was not farewell, this was goodbye.
the torch pierced through the dust and lit up a large metallic trunk. The trunk was an oddity in the empty room, it sat there redundant and neglected. Then she heard a creaking sound behind her... the light in her torch flickered, like a candle in the wind... the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she felt his cold breath envelope her... 'we meet again' he muttered...
The telephone booth was an eerie setting amidst the sophistication of the street. It stood out like the rotten fruit in a basket of ripe, delicious ones. No one knew though, there was a reason for it being positioned there. It was no normal telephone booth, it was a booth that led to the land below, a coveted land that few new about and fewer understood the purpose off. The telephone booth was the gateway to the world below...
The thief of my heart was a fair maiden. Her auburn hair shone in the sunlight and her eyes gleamed like pearls in moonlight. Beauty was her name yet she was a heartless dame. With me she played a dirty game. She then stole my soul, she was a thief and my destruction was her goal.
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writing since 2011 · 15 entries · 13 days shown up
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