November 09, 2010

Short Story-14

She piled up the stones one after another. This was her joypile. There were thirteen stones in all. One for the little blue mug. One for the feather of the Azure-winged magpie that her uncle got from China. Then there was one for that day she got to climb the hill and saw a rainbow.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew, and the stones toppled over.

Thirteen was always unlucky.

November 08, 2010

Short Story-13

Once again she collided with the wall of the past. It had grown longer, sturdier and thicker somehow. Piled up, she thought.

She wanted parts of it broken. Will a slap do? Will anything heal?

Some walls cannot be broken. They'll be there to shamefully remind us of all our failings. To taunt.

November 07, 2010

Short Story- 12

There was a time when all I had to do was reach out. And a rainbow would be mine. It was a life of sunbursts and glittering rains. Answers were simple one words. Worries were bound between school textbooks and were left behind once homeworks were done.

And then I grew up.

Perspectives got added. People walked in and out of life like I gave them a choice. Things that mattered died with time. I never thrilled the same way when I saw a touch-me-not shrink within itself. It was too familiar a sight. I shrink almost everyday. From people, events, truth.
© Dryad's Peak
Maira Gall