.....

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She - busy...?
He - hmm
Little


And his this little buisness ends
when she grabs the grave ...!

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On the mind and within my room.
Faded thou might be, but I love thee best
As thou wert, but now within my frail mind
All our lives are spent forgetting people. The more we move forward, the more it seems easier to let go.

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No reader will ever have the power to read you in full and you will die holding your pen mr., she cursed him! Every woman who reads you won't read you for long, her curses followed him! From then on the writer became a wanderer who lost his job through the web of her dark emotion & he could never write reality as his mastery. He slipped down ranks, lost the sharpness and job. Later he became a mendacious writer, who is even struggling to keep pace with the world. She once said, your stories have destroyed my peaceful life. Year's later she died. That was the last days of that roaring writer, he quit his job and joined as a teacher, they say! But why did she behave like the characters of his story? You must understand that as a writer you are like a God to a few. You have the power to create and kill people as you wish. See that man sitting at the table, lost in thoughts and cigarette smokes? The demons of his past, those turbulent memories and her wild echo have killed him. Today he is struggling to come back as a writer. So many things exist between his words, someday this world will accept him back. So don't judge a writer by the story he writes or plots.

The fall- the writer!

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"Something was not right. He could feel it. This time it was different. So different that a cold grasped his heart and his voice shattered. His legs were clutched by a shadow. Maybe it was his own. Maybe it was of someone else's. But nevertheless he couldn't stop himself, like always from going inside the palace which was..."


- The beautiful piece above is by YourQuote New Writers Club, it was actually a prompt for audio/video quote.


(Continued my way in caption)

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I had a million doubts about myself
But then, I looked at my being through your eyes
&
All my doubts faded like a vapour,
in merely a few minutes...!

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Eak Kahani yad aai
Eak tha chidda ek thi chiddi,
Dono ki shadi hui, phir dono chidd chidde ho gye.

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She then remains calm and her trembling hands now seems to have found someone to confide in.Lips then widened out, clothes under the wraps of her mind and then here she goes on to swallow his tongue. Perhaps that's how that hot story began. It could be more about the submission of that woman. In the next frame she was holding her eyes in tears to see the long sunset. A drive to their wood house, where red and yellow lights are hanging around. Then he orchestrates a few songs for her, she remembers. In between her memories she then wakes up from their seen, she laying on the bed and then the story of her submission. Legs wide apart and later their love blooming all over the air. When in love, her secrets one by one starts withering off. Time moves away from all the initial charm and then arguments, cigarette smokes and it all falls down from heaven. He finds a bar after his work every day to deal with the post-relationship stress and she finds her time to romance her bygone era. Somewhere in between he dies. It's a flashback, a broken flashback, written when bored on a scrap of paper.

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She was wrapped
Given to a poor farmer alongwith treasures
His boy was adopted
For the sake of empire
Years swiped
The royal Prince fell in love with farmer's daughter
Love won but
He died
Power came in her hands
Destiny brought back

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My best school memory was during my exam time.
Not because of exams, but the days leading up to it...

No, i am not a sadist nor am i a masochist.
I just loved the fun i have then...


**Read my story in the caption**

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