Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Theme 164 - Sand

From @mitchellez:

Touch the starry violet sky,
Kiss the blue horizon,
On the moon lit ocean I lie,
Draw a picture on the sand,
Draw your picture on the sand.
Sitting by the sea,
Serenity my companion,
Joyful tear’s my refuge,
I write your name on the shore,
Erase it,
To only write your name, with mine.

From @roshd: Imagine stepping out of the sea on a hot Goan afternoon and setting your bare feet on the boiling sand. You are that beach chair with the cool shade of the beach umbrella offering respite from the scorching heat. Your smile is like that chilled pint. But there is this burning sand to cross first.

From @writingchalk:

He gasped for breath beneath the sea. With the water pricking his eyes, he could barely keep them open. He flapped his hands hard, but he was drawn further into the sea. Strangely, the water was hot.

He opened his eyes.

No water. But he was sinking.

The Kalahari consumed his senses. And his body.

From @swordfish19:

“What’s this?” asked the visitor, pointing to the glass jars on the mantle.
“These are mementos; of the various deserts that my husband explored” replied the explorer’s wife.
“Oh..I see..here’s the sand from Gobi…Oh! And there’s Sahara…but why is Kalahari empty?”
“That’s because he never returned from there. That was his last desert.”

From @aaroo4: “Can i take your order, ma’am?” the waiter enquired. “Yes, i would like to order the Earl Grey Green tea please”, she said. “Yes ma’am” he replied. Few minutes later he brought the pot of hot water into which he let the tea bag drop, flipping the hour glass. Her very own sands of time. 

From @quratzafar: Another burn stinged on his hands as he roasted corn cobs for impatient people in the sand and salt mixture. He was just fourteen years old and could clearly recall a time when his mother wouldn't even ask him to get water for himself.

From @agentgreenglass:

How was it?

The usual. All day inside a conference room. Don't know why they have it in Goa, when we see nothing of the beach.

Was Tanuja there?

Yes. And get over it Neha. I said sorry a million times.

She put his clothes in the machine. There was sand in her hands.

From @RBtrary:

"She held the sand in her fist, it ran through the gap between her fingers, reminding how time ran away while meeting her long-lost-love after 10years.

She tried dusting away the wet-sand from her feet, but particles remained stuck, reminding how she’ll always carry the guilt of crossing the line and betraying her husband…"

From @iyer_raman:  They shut the doors of the empty compartment with practiced ease, and reached for her straightaway. The cop who boarded at the next station got the shock of his life. He radioed for stretchers and first aid. She needed to add more sand to her punching bag. Her punches are not yet fatal, she felt.

From @naeempachapure:

I am not unique. I don’t stand out.  I don’t love or cry. I am cold, and warm. I am as agile as the wind or gushing water. No one can tell me apart when I am with others of my kind. Yet, There is something peculiar.
I have a name.

Adam (grain of sand)

From @tweettabulous:

Reminiscing about our times together always makes me smile. The playful moments. The serious talks. The long hand in hand walks. The gazing at stars lying in each other's arms.

Yes we parted, we had our reasons. The heart thought it couldn’t stop loving. Slowly memories faded.
Our memoirs are like footprints on the sand…

From @slokabs: Mira’s greatest takeaway from the beach was this lesson! If she walked with the wave, she moved faster, but only as far as the wave. Walking against it, she stumbled awhile, before eventually steadying. But if she did nothing and just stood on the shore, her feet got gradually sucked into the wet sand beneath.

From @bitchwanti: Her fingers sifted through the sand, lying like shattered gold against the cold white marble. Every grain of sand must go back in the hourglass, that lay broken at her feet. A strong gust of wind had knocked it over, but not a grain of his memories could be lost, not to the petty wind.

From @flirtingshadows: A cozy friendship that took her by surprise. A tumultuous love that overwhelmed her. A messy heartache that left her humiliated, debased and wanting. Fuming, too. It happened all too quickly and abruptly, before she could take it all in. The thrill, the euphoria and the despair. She hadn’t been prepared for the shifting sands.

From @kunalbaidmehta: Ranbir was born with a silver spoon. All his wishes got fulfilled, making him believe that owning everything was his birth right.  When he started dating Radhika, he started getting possessive about her, which suffocated her.

He did not realize that a relationship is like sand – tighter the grip, sooner it goes out of hand.

From @DNRamki:

They ran around, like little kids set free. This break had been long overdue. As she outpaced him, he stuck a leg out to trip her, and they fell, laughing their worries away. They loved picking all those tiny shells, and pebbles.

The next day he smiled, looking at that sand in his pocket.

From @vagabondinact: It felt like a reprise, stuck at a bad note. Her life, felt like the steadily shifting sand, beneath her feet under the withdrawing wave, only to be brought back by the new wave to be scattered on her feet. All she had to do was turn the hour glass for it to be anew.

From @Pennykinned: It was a glorious, sparkling love-affair. A meeting of glances across the room. Daytime conversation and nighttime capers. A proposal, a wedding, a marriage. And then, the plane crash. He was the one who died, but it was her life that ended. The last grain of sand in the merciless hourglass had fallen.

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