From @flirtingshadows: It’s late Sunday night but you’re edgy, consumed by insomnia,
Monday morning blues and creeping, nagging self-thoughts that have parked
themselves in the head for the night. You try your utmost to rein in those
runaway emotions, the fears and the self-doubts. But you feel yourself drown
into a troubled sleep, shielded by droopy eyelids.
From @vidulachakradeo: My hands touch the ‘ektara’. The strings sing a melody unheard.
My feet swirl on the ground of ecstasy. My mind lost in the reverie of his
memories. My eyes see none but him. My
body whirls in the air of love. They call me Merabai. But, I am a bride in a
runaway marriage.
From @DNRamki: The calendar
read ‘Vacation @ Home’, but that was hardly the mood. They seemed to be
squabbling, almost perennially. There was hardly any excitement remaining. It
seemed like he wasn’t welcome anymore. It just didn’t feel right. Even at home, he wasn’t really home. He wanted to run away.
From @SugarsNSpice: My eyes were wet and hands moist. Sweat trickled down from my head.
This was no anxious fear, but a phobia. I was supposed to be happily
excited, but than Raul was someone I met just a while back. He was
perfect for the family. But, what about me? Hence, I became the 'Runaway
Bride'.
From @zoarcher: The formidable walls, the air thick with breaths
of callous indifference suffocated him. He knew he didn’t deserve to be in this
hole-in-the-wall cell. He didn’t have blood on his hands. He had to escape. But
then, how would he ever clear his name? He would always be identified as the convict
who ran away.
It’s time. I shivered, when my friend said that. She will be here, anytime now. Still, I could hear a little voice deep down inside. Urging me. Pushing me. Convincing me. That it isn’t too late. I let that little voice play ‘Simon Says’ with me. I ran before the Chemistry ma’am entered the classroom.
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