I write because I read. I read because I write.
Dense, wild forest witnessed the tale of one unfolded chair, a tired man with graying hair, a final note, a gun fired. — Photo credit: Unsplash In response to OctPoWriMo 2016 by Morgan Dragonwillow‘s Day 10. — Ushnik (God of Wind orignating from the hairs of the body of the almighty Prajāpati) is a stanzaic Vedic meter. The 7th… Continue reading Unfolded: An Ushnik
As the darkness of the evil night cloaks buildings and city lights, her tired soul drowned in the sea of strong, weakening beer bites. Unknown he led her into a dark corridor, t'was too late to fight. — ©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo credit: Mike Wilson In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three… Continue reading Too Late
Stranger. That is what I am. Sitting people all in black and white, I am estranged to everyone, except one person. She is the only human who knows me here. But she can never say who I am. — She’s imperfect but she tries. She is good but she lies. — Silence. Murmurs. Quiet sobs. The humans that… Continue reading Used to be Mine: A Song-based Fiction
Her heart ripped her apart. Now it’s my part to take all her wrath. Sharp-as-a-diamond knife cuts through me to end her life. Oh, my pain, is it her gain? Oh, will this cut, erase her hurt? Oh, will this wound, do any good? I froze as her blood flows. I feel the nerves died… Continue reading Deep, Dark, Dreary
I’m an audience for decades now but no one knows I’m watching. — 1945 “Ssshhh,” I whispered to myself. Hiding behind my wooden closet across my huge mirror, trembling with fear, I am finding it hard to breathe. “Please, Lord, don’t let them see me, please, oh please.” — 2015 “You’re such a beautiful lass,” I… Continue reading Mirror: Fiction with Vignettes
The same rugged, masculine yet gentle hands which tickled each nerves and gave me sensual goosebumps, have weaved yarnful of lies that ended my life. — ©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo credit: Philip Estrada In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three Line Tales Week Thirty-Three. If you want to join, here are the simple rules: Write… Continue reading Dual Hands
I have lived a well-planned life. My mom used to tell me that I have my own decisions, ever since I’m a toddler. I choose what will I wear. I choose what will I eat. I choose anything and everything. Yep. My parents never win. My student-self is as picky as my toddler-self. I grew… Continue reading Last Choice
First three parts were published last Tuesday, Wednesday and yesterday. Warm wind’s blowing. Loud silence’s piercing. With blank mind and an about-to-burst heart, I remained still as I look at your grave. Our story ended, more than five years ago. On that fateful autumn day, when I waited for you. But you never waited for… Continue reading Seasons: Epilogue
First two parts were published last Tuesday and yesterday. “This can’t be,” my mind whispered. But my heart and my senses knew, this is him. When I finally looked into his dark brown eyes, words ran out of me. Anger and sadness left me. I am numb. He stared back and looked through my eyes as his… Continue reading Seasons: Finale
I looked at the sky painted in pretty purple and pink. I counted the building’s floors, trying hard not to blink and think. Calm down, jumping is fun and surely death will swiftly come. — ©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo credit: Steven Wei In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three Line Tales Week Thirty-Two.… Continue reading The Plan
A Reading Writer 