Theme 222 - Adversity

From @Kanakkupullai: He looked about. Everybody was writing, some with their head down, some with a serious look. He didn’t know what to write, for he didn’t know the meaning of the word given in the ‘Essay Writing contest’. He was stuck in a paradoxical situation. Little did he know about the adversities in writing on ‘adversity’.

From @Sourcasm: Despite knowing he would face adversity from every corner if he took this risk, without listening to any advice he made a move and came out of the closet. "I am gay and I am proud of it" he finally told his family and friends. People said what they had to, "Thank god" he said.

From @Drun007: 

"India is a land of unity,

In all its shades of diversity,

And more so in times of adversity,

But let's keep it till eternity."

The lines my grandfather helped me write for a school project, when I was 10.

Why did it have to be that word that is prominent today?

From @meticulousBlues: He was a successful man. Never alone, busy faking friendships with social chameleons. He was respected, never loved. Bored fate yawned at him. He lost everything in a blink. People he called friends vanished into thin air. He was finally alone.  Adversity has a profound way of showing true colours.

From @WeirdBeardDude: It was the same routine every day. He would wake up hoping his problems would magically disappear but he knew it would take time. Losing a job and a relationship in the same week was tough, but he knew he had to get through these adverse times. This was a test of his character.

From @divigyaan: Hope and faith were the two most important baggages she took along, when left her dear home. Someone promised, made her believe, she will get better than what she has left behind. But this time, fear won. Everything turned into dust. What she got in return was the  never ending adversity and her forever-lost-home's door keys.

Theme 221 - Lies

From @PScripturient: 

Comfort, he told himself was a great fallback than being adventurous. His marriage of twelve years had started looking like the black & white film he sat watching. She tried a new recipe every day, today being an apple crumble. Nibbling his way through, he said he loved her, lying was a piece of cake.

From @weirdbearddude: 

He was worshipped by all, he was their hero.

He was made promises to by his employers and he waited patiently. Days turned to months and months turned to years, he had been lied to.

Every man has a breaking point and he did too, he decided he had had enough. It was time.

From @SummerFringe: 

From the break of dawn surrounded by rays of hope to the time you close those eyes filled with yearning. You wriggle your way out. Survive the day by being benevolent.

But the self loathing doesn't end. Because the most excruciating lies are the lies you tell yourself everyday. The lies that kill your soul.

From @preetidhingra: 

I love you. I miss you. I will always be with you. I cannot live without you. I want to marry you. You are different.

Oh my parents will not agree. Oh our cultures are different. Oh you will not fit in my family. You are different.

Truth. Lies. I'll never know. Life will continue. With you or without you. Adios!

From @Greyllusionist:

He returned home from work, but there wasn't anyone waiting for him that evening anymore, except a note on the tea-table folded in a perfect square kept under that diamond ring which seemed quite heavy with this abrupt responsibilty...

"...if only brick and mortar could have buried the lies we built this home on..."

Theme 220 - Write

From @visshy_it: They tell me I am too opinionated, too full of myself to be a good journalist. Probably it is time to rest these opinions and take a fresh perspective. Then I put my pen to paper and write. And I forget what the world yaps around.

From @meticulousBlues: 

He: Why don't you write about us in your next book?
She: I'm scared.
He: Of what?
She: Of our love not being understood. If I give our story a page to write itself and leave it in the open,I worry people may call us cowards and our love hopeless.
He: Write,anyway.
She: I may, someday.

From @discopiggu: Her memories revolved around the Gulmohar tree. She bought a new diary to pen down her thoughts. Her childhood, adolescence and her married life was always followed by a beautiful Gulmohar tree standing tall in the garden. Sitting in the verandah under its shade; her old feeble hands held a pen. But words failed her...

From @PennyKinned: 

Take syringe. Insert in vein. Draw deep-blue liquid. Release into ink pot.

Take knife. Carve under heart. Remove rib. Fashion into fountain pen.

Take tray. Breathe soul into it. Bake until sheet is set.

Your instruments are now ready. Write until your eyes water, your heart breaks, your spirit aches.

Tonight, you will write.

 

From @weirdbearddude: Every night she would just lie there, wishing something would change, nothing ever did. She would just sit there motionless, listening to their fights and write it in her diary. That was all she had really, the only thing which listened. A book with empty pages brought solace to her empty life.

 

From @Sourcasm: As she sat down to write the memories they had shared together, her eyes got wet thinking of all that had faded away in time. Searching for a meaning in their story, hoping to find the answers that she was seeking. Experience will explain to her later that her questions were wrong all that while.

 

From @alksmehta: Aryan's mind lingered with thoughts and memories that had once given him life and reasons to live.Today he wanted to write to his love,once again,a last try,may be.But the rolling tears had blotted every word,blurred his vision,as he remembered losing her to cancer,his dreams unfulfilled forever!

 

From @VishalShriyan: The stories bubbled within him. Flooded his mind, coursed through his blood, filled his very being. Poverty had done little to dull his imagination. If only he could write, he thought as he looked at the stumps of his hands. A tear escaped his eyes for the umpteenth time.

 

From @HideASky: Thoughts weighed down by lead. Blunted even. Diary of painfully sketched memories. A chronic ache highlighted with any passing association. A tattoo etched in permanent ink. Bound, till he threw away all the letters she had written to him

 

From @Aaliznat: 

 

Write to forget. Write to remember. Write to laugh. Write to cry.
Write your story. Write your dreams.
Write down your ambitions. Write down your failures.
Write a love letter. Write to yourself.
Write for someone else. Write for no one else.
Write till you can't write anymore and then write some more.
Just write.

 

From @zoarcher: Ashish’s worst fears had come true. His name was dragged into the raging realty scam. Much was written about his involvement in the case. In newsprint. On social media statuses. On blog posts. The written words were overflowing with cries for justice and sensationalism. Only one thing was lost in this clamour. The truth.