Mark and Hannah were celebrating their golden anniversary.
“Honey, after the party, shall we go for a drive? The chauffeur will stay up till late.”
“Darling, that’d be lovely. Just like the old days!”
They’d watched Casablanca last night and kissed when Rick said to Ilsa, “We’ll always have Paris.”
They were each other’s songs.
From @madrasmad: For my 55th birthday, my husband and I went to a vineyard on the countryside. We spent hours relaxing under a large yellow umbrella on the patio, tasting their privileged selection of vintage wines. “Which do you like the most?” I asked. “You”, he said, covering my blush with his warm hand.
From @whimsytales: Her belongings I found in that rusty cuboid tell me she was fond of looking beautiful. That fancy gold hairpin, antique combs and bejewelled silver mirror- my vintage possessions, make my girls green with envy. But to me they mean more than just that. They talk to me. And tell me that she loved me.
From @sumitrai100: '40 days' the mariner counted. He looked around. The vastness of Atlantic scared him again. His eyes searched the boat. Only that 1784 vintage was left."But she must be expecting it. But then what’s the use?"He drank the entire bottle. Wow, never did he feel so intrepid. Now Atlantic looked like such a small baby.
From @ThWanderingSoul: Her fingers gently felt the vintage white tulle. It was Christian Dior. So beautiful. The air was heavy with the smell of Lillies as she glided down the aisle. Suddenly, she heard the tear of the fabric. The bride screamed, interrupting the evening reverie of the seamstress.
From @realfartshady: "Life has become very crucial with the supremacy of cell phones. Phone booths have aged. They are considered antiques now. I'm forced to change into costume in public washrooms. Sadly, clothes left in there generally aren't there when I get back." - Superman.
“Hey Sara, we are throwing you birthday party! Decide the theme.”
Sara looks around: it’s the end of the month, the fridge is empty, her younger brother got sick and his medicines cost. There is no chance she can get new dress, but she has her mother’s old clothes and sewing machine…
“Vintage.” She replies.
From @Unendingquest: A 7-year old garbage picker found a Vintage pocket-watch. He gladly kept his newfound possession in pocket. He played with it in his low times and hoped for a fairytale Miracle to happen. That HOPE pushed him to work harder. Eventually, Miracle did happen. At 28, he was running the most successful restaurant in town.
From @panktimehta: She drummed easily, clackety-clack on the creaking keys. A yellowed library card stirred in the typewriter as she impressed memories on it, to place under '2012' in the engraved box that catalogued their relationship. It was 2025 again as he walked in. She wondered if it was too soon to be nostalgic about this moment.
From @kunalbaidmehta: It looked like a scene from the 30s’. Amer Fort looked radiant and decked up like a new bride in its bright lights. Sherwanis and Jodhpuris adorned proudly by the erstwhile princes. Tonight was the annual bash after the Polo Cup, where Cadillacs and Buicks gave the Princes a chance to relive the vintage era.
From @roshd: “Sir would you like to issue a press statement on the defence scandal?” the PMO official asked. The PM shook his head. Vintage Mannu, thought the official. If the crisis deepens the FM will step in and Madam will issue directives. He’s not expected to lead anymore. Mannu was just keeping the seat warm for yuvraj.
From @vivekisms: I imagine that when I am old, I will be alone, and in pain, and my eyes will be too weak to read. I am afraid of those long days, Nina thought to herself. The Internet will not suffice. In addition, I would have to have happy memories and some music. Jazz maybe, she pondered.
"How long have we known each other?" Fear of answering this question prevented him from approaching her.
A wine is valued for the time it stood. Love has to stand the test of vintage wine. The value of time in relationships is carved in stone by society.
His love story ended even before it started.
From @Marwaari: It was a party of different sort. Greenery all around, the place was named uniquely as Garden. In the centre was a masterpiece. "What's this?" I asked. "This belonged to my Father, He was a farmer and he committed suicide when I was 4. This Vintage is called 'Plough'" The host replied. Year 2050.
From @swaravali: Vintage, that word takes me way back to my Dehradun days. I could see the snow-capped Mussorrie every day and fell in love with this quaint hill-station. Winding roads, lush green flora and fauna, very few vehicles, the place kept drawing me back. Not anymore. Slaughtered! You show you love a place by ruining it?
From @indianidle: People laughed on him. They didn't believe him. They told him again and again this is not possible. Yet he went with his guitar there. He played the tunes till his fingers bled. And indeed he rose from his grave to sing his favorite medley. Power of vintage rock music.
From @gauravjagwani: He spoke about past lives. One would have to imagine how this was possible of a little child born in the hills. No one knew of the power he possessed. But, it was a power nonetheless. His body was young. His mind was old. Vintage thoughts floated inside. After all, he was the lord’s incarnation.
From @minolajekar: She looked at herself in the mirror, mission accomplished, she looked smoking hot. Mum’s prom dress from the 70s was recycled, but she already had a term for it, picked it up from this month’s Vogue. A vintage that’s what her dress was. Cleavage check, dark broody eyes check, this cherry was ready for a-picking.
From @sinpinklove: She looked stunning. Deep blue gown that matched her deep blue eyes,she was eager for the night to approach.Finally the bell rang.She was busy setting the table. He approached her from behind.She didnt resist.They never had dinner. Her beautiful vintage gown was torn beyond recognition.
From @sahilbulla: He gathered all the kids around him. Wide eyed they listened to his tales of playing outside when the sun would shine and laughing with his close pals . Those memories now came flooding back to him, and a tiny tear escaped the eyes of the man on the wheelchair. Those were the days. Vintage.
From @salonitia: As she sat around the holy pyre, she looked around. "So pretty, she's looking like a princess" "Oh, that color is bringing out her innocence" Royalty is being overpowered. She turned to look at her partner. Yes, what all were saying was true, she indeed looked pretty in her grandmothers vintage pink saree.
From @mitigatedlying: She was fond of memories. She lay there, breathing faintly with a smile. Above her were innumerable vintage pictures, hanging from the ceiling, from the past that made her feel strong about where she came from. Like wind-chimes they fluttered in the air creating ripples within her. They knew.
From @Gods_Evangelos: It started on 4th February, 2004. It wasn’t that famous in India. “Orkut” was acing the market of Social Networking. Scraps, Fonts, Profile Views were taking the troll. Who knew the death was nearing. Mark Zuckerberg is the name and today hardly anyone would exist who doesn’t know him. The youngest Millionaire. Faced the book.
From @SugarsNSpice: Clarrisa couldn’t help but feel an unfamiliar connection when she first met Laura. Mrs. Brown was a typical portrayal of an english house maker and yet those eyes spoke volumes. Clarrisa could empathize despite the different personae they carried. Then her eyes fell on the vintage classic redefining them both. Mrs. Dalloway was indeed alive.
From @ghaatidancer: Statuesque black and white photographs adorn her walls. Her gowns, bell bottoms and wedges are strewn across the floor. She lies in her chair, mascara trailing down her cheeks; red lipstick smudging her worn skin; a wig on her scanty blonde hair. She once was a diva.
From @Baba_Bakwaas: Entering an old palace invited by him. Welcomed by none, she kept moving into an abyss. Tall silver candlestands rested on one corner and a vintage wine bottle on the other, scared, she called out his name. None replied. She heard some clandestine noise, it wasn’t his voice. Running for her life, she woke up.
“How much for this?”
“Look at it, it still works perfectly smooth.”
“So what! Its not that it belongs to Shivaji or Akbar. 500, take it or leave it”
“I’ll take those in exchange, Deal?”
True Story, I bartered my vintage 486 processor CPU for Wireless KB and mouse.
From @RootKanal: ‘You’re vintage!’ He smiled. Her withered cheeks twitched. Her hair was thinning, she was more bone than flesh. The machine that recorded her heartbeats betrayed her superficial calm. He touched her face again. ‘You’ll always be my beauty queen!’ the blind man pecked her and stumbled across the room one last time.
From @digibberish: It'd been 70 years. But the memory was still fresh. A imperfect beauty enhanced by the crookedness. He knocked trepidly. She opened the door. "Yes?" He was stunned but composed himself and asked, "Anita?" "No her granddaughter. She's no more." As he left, he took one last glance. Yes, her nose is truly vintage.
From @JaaTeri: He tried push-starting his car. Failed. He hired a cab. "Must get rid of that trash," he thought. Back home, as he sat on a chair, "Thudd" - he fell as it broke. "Old isn't gold anymore!" he sighed as he saw empty bottles lying around. Well, you don't deserve vintage if you don't love it.
From @theslumdawg: As @vivekisms tweeted today's theme for #55WordStory is vintage, first thing which struck my mind was Vintage = Cars. But, to understand the proper meaning, I checked my dictionary app in ipod (As always). Which resulted in "Noun- the oldness of wines & noun- a season's yield of wine from a vineyard." End of Story.
From @DayaDarwazaTodo: A decade of live shows and he was nervous for the very first time. An hour from his performance, a wreck he was. The clock struck 9, he went, he sang. And that night, he cried. He’d just sung Khayyam saab’s most loved songs without a note out-of-place. Tonight he’d received his biggest award.
From @sahilk: My dad’s boss has shit loads of money. Every six months, he’ll buy the latest car in the market. The good part is that I get to take the cars for a spin. But there’s this car that he won’t let me touch. The 1954 Volkswagen Beetle. It just stands outside his house eating dust.
From @Drun007: Wednesday, March 28 2012. Gary, Jim, Chuck, David and Bill at the poker table. All of Monroe knew of their weekly gambling schedule. It was never missed. Big stakes on the table while the wives chatted. Though from varied walks of life, the five had a commonality - Batch of 1945, Monroe High School.
From @abi_da: "You're wearing that??" my bestie asked, disapprovingly. "Yeaa… Its a vintage dress..." I replied, gazing at myself in the mirror. I don't care what people might say, I'm not getting married in anything else but this dress. On the aisle, my dad whispered, “You look just like your mom.” I smiled, walking in her dress.
From @tweettabulous: Tania, at 9, was fascinated with the idea of marriage. She wanted to look just as her grandma did in her wedding album. Regal, like an Egyptian goddess descended on Earth. Her playful wishes caused an eerie silence; one year after the wedding, the grandma had set herself on fire in that very vintage gown.
Cinderella had worn the baby-pink vintage gown that he had gifted. They were dancing in the bewitching palace, when the clock struck 12.
“Marry me”, he said. She smiled.
Just then she heard the doorbell.
“Gotta go. Husband’s home”, she typed.
And she was back to First Life from the game of Second Life.
From @Steelysilence: He loved the vintage lifestyle. Plush couches, classy crockery- everything must be in line with his new found richness. He cheated his wife and finally dumped her, without remorse. He poured the vintage 1854 wine and took a swig. In three.minutes he was gasping for breath. Atleast his wife sent him off in style.
From @Freelosopher: The year was 2050. It was renowned billionaire, Mr. Sun Wheeler's ninetieth birthday. He woke up that morning and hobbled to his favorite mini-garage. He fingered his Rolls Royce Silver Shadow, Ford Thunderbird, Chevrolet Nomad, Oldsmobile 442 and Maserati Mistral fondly. Childhood memories came flooding back as he eyed his 1969 Hot Wheels collection proudly.
From @writingchalk: The bullet grazed my ear. I shot back. This game of cat and mouse was difficult in the dark, but I was prepared. Footsteps. My martial arts expertise knocked him out. Lights on. My BUTLER? Where did HE go? I looked… he was gone…… with my Romanée-Conti, the most expensive wine in the world.
She smoothed out the front of her gown and adjusted her bonnet as she joined the Earl for high tea.
She smiled demurely as she poured tea into the finely carved saucer and took a noisy sip. There was a stunned silence. The British had impacted India as much as India had, them.
From @anushreekejriwa: She belonged to the old school and fell in love with a 'cool dude'. She thought that he would revive the days of hand written letters for her and make her feel like an empress. She was vintage in thoughts while he was modern. Their love story was stuck in the race of time.
From @akshayabansal: The soapy water, the bottle of wax. I folded my sleeves as the breeze gently passed. She is as old as I albeit in poor health. I treat it just like it were my pet. An eyesore for my wife, just another vintage car for the rest. A family heirloom is what it is.
From @textuallyhorny: He visited his ancestral home forlorn since British days searching few precious stones. Disappointed, he found some scribbled pages instead. Even the signature was unclear. The collector paid him more for those pages than he would for the stones. You now find them as “Unpublished letters and sketches by Tagore” at a bookstore near you.
They removed a box from under the bed.
In it, they put their whips, dildos, gags, beads and clamps.
They lay next to each other, naked.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
She got on top of her and began to plant kisses along her body.
Tonight, they'd do it old school.
From @Oven_Tikka: At the stroke of 7, he walked into the living room, not a hair out of place and looking every bit the army man that he was. Retirement would be a difficult change, he thought despondently, leaning back in his armchair. Reports next day claimed he was from the same vintage as his poison laced wine.
From @lady_shweta: The note below the painting "Crying Geisha" read-Aug 1853. The painting here depicts Geisha who trapped in a luxurious life longs for freedom. Her loneliness is depicted in clear blue sky with a paper swan floating in it. The girl reading the note said to herself "That feeling of being lonely is not vintage at all".
From @dark_gal: I invented nail paint, and even my rich husband. A new collection is on the cards, and my husband in the coffin. Only, his blood shall make my new collection. 22 years of wedlock, metamorphosed with a Colt. I’ll remember him. Limited Edition hubby’s blood on my nails. The Vintage collection.
From @ritukarthik: I sit there staring at the pearls, the once shimmering white had almost lost its sheen like everything else in my life. I could hear B.B.King' The Thrill is Gone playing in the background and I opened the last bottle of wine. The string snapped and the pearls rolled like memories. Oh life!
From @RadhikaMohandas: She looked at her husband of 57 years asleep. The promises of the past years came flowing to her head- of being together through bankruptcy and children and mid-life crises. The beeping of the electrocardiogram paused. He coughed. That’s all. She smiled, her wrinkles deepening with the mingled worry. Vintage love- theirs could beat death.
From @madax06: Of once a blissful life, she's left with nothing but shattered dreams. She continues hold on to that vintage diamond ring,reliving her happiest and darkest hour every moment from the day he gently put the ring on her finger. Celebrations has drowned him into the sea of nothingness.