Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Theme 203 - Wall

From @choasparticle: It once bore the marks of the bride's vermilioned palms. And the sons' graffiti in early years. Today it embodied estrangement between the brothers. The wall was dying. But even today, it allowed the widowed mother to hide her tears and wails in its crevices. "Thank God I ain't human", it seemed to say.

From @numbyaar: In the dark dingy room, the Emperor was suffocating. Darkness and loneliness hurt him less than deceit by his own blood. He knew he had to escape at any cost. In the end he was found dead and a wall bore testimony to his failed attempts. History however would call it a symbol of love.  

From @shekhartripathi: 

I woke in a small room. “How’d I get there? Was I dead? Kidnapped?”
Terrified, I scraped the wall. “Cardboard? Where am I? What is this place?”
Slowly I tore a hole to look through. By night I could wiggle through the hole.
“Was I free?” Exhausted!! I lay there tired and fell fast asleep!!

From @sermonsinstone: 

He wanted to paint the room blue. She preferred pink. Only a few days remained for the baby to arrive. They argued and argued.


She was a shy little girl with rosy cheeks. They chose her at once. “What’s her name?” she asked. “Orange”, the matron said. They looked at each other and smiled. 

From @writingchalk: 

Chote, I have a light saber, a .44 Magnum pistol, a pair of nunchucks and a Father Time scythe. What do you have?”
My elder brother laughed evilly. He ran at me with those deadly weapons.
Thankfully, my mom came between the two of us. I replied, tongue firmly in cheek, “Mere pass maa hai.

From @tweettabulous: 

Dark complexion. Spectacled. Stout stature. Slight lisp.
Judgmental society sprout insecurities, lack of confidence and forced into a shell.
Books, the only true companion offered refuge. Excelled in School and college, secured a noteworthy doctorate. The world that shunned is rather welcoming now. Knowledge my weapon, shattering the cocoon I built around me...

From @swordfish19: 

There used to be a house with a red wall in our village. It used to fascinate us. Then, the war happened and we had to leave the village. 
Many years later when I went back, I saw that the red wall stood in the same place, majestically. However, the house was no longer there. 

From @zoarcher: 

I’m in the mood for some fun
Gliding, sliding, on a wild run
Catching flying treats on my slimy tongue
I then gotta hide behind hanging frames, run for my life  
Helter-skelter, slipping, yelping inside
When people hound
Trying desperately to stick on to the smooth surface  
Which for me, is my playground

From @fungeetu: 

He could see the wet highway. Sprawled endlessly in front, smelling of rides and memories past. But this seemed different. The smell, the sweat, the dream unrequisitioned, the desire, the promise unrequited. But he rides on hope. For riding is all he knows and he does it well before he crashes into a WALL

From @quratzafar:

The wall grew taller and the hearts grew fonder.
'What will it take to bring it down?' They whispered late at night.
'The death of several innocents, a carnage.'

From @The_Lie_Lama:

He only saw her a couple of times. Picking up newspapers through the apartment door, carelessly dressed, rubbing eyes, cursing the morning glare.
       He wished she knew she had an ardent rooter this side of her bedroom wall. The room where she suffered being a shanghaied and abused wife.

From @flirtingshadows: The wall was her canvas. A silent witness to her angst and its expressions. She wrote, painted and drove holes through it. Picking apart the peeling paint helped build concentration, she said. Scrubbing the color off it reinstated her belief in clean new beginnings. The wall was her punching bag, her confidante, her agony aunt. 

From @vidulachakradeo: He had a long feud with God. Abandoned by father, penury burnt, baked him. Struggle killed his mother every day. He hated God. Then, one day, desperation to save his dying mother compelled him to seek God. “Aaj khush toh bahot hoge tum” screamed Vijay; resounding the unshakable stature of ‘the deewar’ of Indian cinema.

From @MirrorofErised_ : 

Her brutal life had thickened her soul,
Her heart had but a hole.
Tired of hanging emotions on her sleeve,
She decided never to believe.
Tormented, distressed she laid,  Inflicting pain with a blade.
Life taught a lesson,
She became a bitter person.
Switching off her empathy,
She built around herself a wall of insensitivity

From @divigyaan; 

Son: I don't want to study any further
Father: huh? whats with you?
Son: i don't need no education
Father:  hmmm i see
Son: what? It's my opinion dad. I think it is just another brick in the wall. Don't i think great?
Father: son, i too am Pink Floyd fan. Now, get ready for school.

From @vishalshriyan: He smiled as their son turned and blew a kiss. He knew she would put the child to bed. And come back and lay beside him. But not with him. Yet again he rued the one slip on his part. Nobody else knew, but he'd lost her forever that day. To a wall of silence. 

No comments:

Post a Comment