MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “Writing post”

Like and Love

©Randy Mazie

The outer part of their house wasn’t very appealing, to keep the ‘bad eye’ out.

Their relationship was almost perfect. At first sight, they didn’t really seem compatible, yet, opposites attract. You don’t always choose who you’ll fall in love with, but sometimes you just fall with full force. And it lasts forever.

At their wedding, she remembered a phrase from her grandma: “you like someone because of some of their qualities, and you love them despite some of their qualities”.

Buddha said: “when you like a flower, you pluck it. But when you love a flower, you water it daily”.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The box office event

©Ted Strutz

She had been waiting for the show for weeks. It set a box office record wherever it performed. She had told him and he had excitedly agreed to go. After all, he couldn’t refuse something that got her so happy that she couldn’t stop blabbing while bouncing around happily.

A few days earlier, she awoke by a nightmare. He consoled her, wrapping her in his arms until she fell back asleep.

But then, a peculiar thing happened. Her fear had diffused into him. Unjustifiably and inexplicably.

It was when they were already seated that it happened. And it was life-changing.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The hustle and bustle of sincerity

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Sit there and wait. Observe. That hustle and bustle that is so characteristic of airports. That feeling of restlessness, anticipation and anguish. Imagine the stories, of where others are coming from and heading to. And the knowing that you too will soon be at some other part of the world.

But more than anything, realise that airports see the most sincere feelings: people reunited, running into each other at high speed, kissing and crying, recounting stories the mouth can’t tell fast enough, eyes that are struggling to take in all the charge, the hugging, and the end of missing someone.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The place we call home

©Ceayr

Home is where you feel safe.

It is the place where no matter how broken you are, you feel whole. As if all the pieces come together and are mended, even if only for a while.

It is the people who lift you up when you fall. Who are there to catch you when your wings are too soar to fly.

It is the love you receive from those who can hear your silence, who can feel your heart, even when you don’t say a word.

Home is something beyond a simple place.

It is an extension of your soul.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

A piano simile

©Anshu Bhojnagarwala

When we come into this world, we are the centre of attention for months, maybe years. Everything and everyone focuses around us. The same is true for new objects that come into our possession.

Like a piano for a musical enthusiast.

It is placed in a dominant position in the room for all to admire. Beautiful melodies sound out of its keys.

Until it grows old and the fascination for it passes with time.

It is considered a given now.

Until one day, neglected for so long, it is dumped.

The same is often unfortunately true for our old people.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

That question we all ask

https://www.socialtoaster.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/2018-06-19-1080x628.jpg

There is something we all at some point find ourselves doing: seeking the answers we search not in ourselves but in someone else. Because it is much easier to ask others what to do and how to do it rather than try to figure it out ourselves. It is faster and simpler to have others solve the problem instead of finding the way to do it ourselves.

That is why when we find “inspirational” people there is always someone who asks the question of “what should I do” or “how should I do [something] to become like you”? The best answer a truly influential person can give is “go out and act and stop asking me about it”.

No-one can really provide you all the answers you look for. There is no pre-defined right-or-wrong solution to everything that goes on in your head. Plus the responses you may get may very often not fit with your perspective. Or put simply, they may not be what you want to hear.

The best thing is to stop delaying and procrastinating so much. We blame our fallible human nature, our indecisiveness, even our OCD, but deep down there is something else: the fact that we may not want it as much as we believe. Because if we truly wanted something we would do anything we could to achieve it. We wouldn’t over-analyse. We wouldn’t go around asking. We would find ways to act.

It’s as simple as that.

The ring, the stranger, and the spiders

gold ringThe golden ring was stolen on a Monday. Lewis couldn’t sleep until he had figured out a way to get it back. It was already Wednesday by the time he had devised a plan that might work.

He knew who had stolen it. He remembered a dark, sinister strange, brushing against him as he hastily left the room that day.

It only took a minute. He still did not know how it had happened. But the golden ring with the sapphire-shaped heart in the middle had somehow disappeared along with the stranger that day.

It was an extravagantly dressed, corpulent woman who had noticed it first, as her shrieks even scared the guard dogs outside. It did not seem that the glass surrounding the luxurious and exorbitant ring was cracked at all. So how on earth did they manage to steal it?

Lewis remembered following the stranger into an alley behind the Museum. But there was absolutely nothing there, other than three walls leading to a dead-end. And the stranger was gone.

All day Tuesday Lewis contrived his plan and suitably equipped himself for the mission that lay ahead. Two special policemen accompanied him to the end of the alley, but from there he would continue alone. It was his responsibility and he would be the one to retrieve the ring.

They scanned the area for a whole five minutes before they found it. The stranger’s escape route.

It was a trapdoor at the left side – the darkest part – of the alley. But the minute Lewis shed his torch light on the dark abyss that opened up below, his heart stopped.

A hairy-legged black spider crawled slowly out of the darkness onto the grey-stoned alley road. And then another. And another.

Lewis hated spiders. And most importantly he feared them. He shivered all over with disgust as he dreaded the idea of climbing down there with these awful creatures.

No, he would not. He could not. There must be another way. This would simply be a decoy. The real exit was elsewhere.

Soon the left side of the alley was slowly being taken over by spiders.

Lewis shuddered and jumped up with such a yell that the museum guard dogs ran to his rescue. They had been trained to react with every scream.

Lucky for him that they did not have the same problem with spiders. They quickly forced them all back under the trap door.

But the most fortunate coincidence of all was when one of the dogs chased around one spider which was pretty fast for its genre, crashed out of excitement onto the back wall, and revealed the real exit.

The back wall was simply plaster. Thick layers of plaster.

After that, it all fell into place quite easily.

The wall opened up to a wooden, poorly constructed shed, where apparently the stranger-thief had hidden the priceless jewel in a shoebox until he returned from somewhere. All it took from now on was a hideout until the stranger came. He didn’t take long; only 40 minutes.

The ring was returned to the Museum. And the dogs given a life supply of bones and treats.

What was most surprising though, was that the ring thief was actually the extravagantly-dressed, corpulent woman’s husband, who also happened to be the ex-director of the Museum who had been fired for misconduct and embezzlement a year ago.

Revenge can truly take astonishing turns.

But payback does belong to a dog.

 

Inspired by Story-ideas-three elements

Post Navigation