16 reads

Inspirational Quote 1

A failure occurring to you does don't make you a failure. It makes you a fighter.

3

1

0

The Last Time. Perhaps it was the final time you ever did something. Or perhaps it was just the most recent time you did it. Perhaps still, it will be the last time. Either way, it is the last time... Fiction or non-fiction, poetry or Prose.

Srilekha

49 reads

Final Touches

I sat in my bed alone one day. My hands felt numb. My body was aching. My eyes fluttered closed, almost as if they couldn’t move anymore.

That was the day I realized I was going to die.

So I got up, I brushed my teeth, I got dressed, and I had some breakfast. Not just any breakfast. Not a hasty toast and coffee. I mean the full spread. Fresh juice, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes. Everything.

I went to school thinking about the end of my world and how much suffering dying would end.

And then I skipped school. I spit on the front door before leaving. No good school. No good friends. No good life.

I went to my secret hideout in the woods. I sat in my castle hanging in the trees and swung across the lake using my vine. I swam. I laughed. I cried.

I jogged home to find my mother and father and tell them the great news. Should I though? Should I really tell them?

So I decided I wouldn’t. I don’t want them to cry as I pass.

Finally, I came to the end of the day. Finally, it all ended.

Finally, I thought about every painful moment of my life and made myself happy that it’s ending. Not like I could do anything to stop it.

Slowly, I closed my eyes and laid down in bed waiting for oblivion to take over.

Wait! One last final touch. I take a journal and write down all of my goodbyes to my parents and my zero friends. I lay it next to the fresh flowers I placed earlier next to my bed.

This was it. I laid back down in my freshly made sheets.

And I let my disease end me.

2

0

Challenge

Challenge of the Month VIII

Running. You are (or your character is) running from something. Or running to something. Or maybe you just left the faucet running. The theme this month is running. Fiction or non-fiction, poetry or Prose. $100 purse to our favorite entry. Outstanding entries will be shared with our publishing partners.

Srilekha

70 reads

Catch Me if You Can

I started running when I was six years old. Not the silly kind of running every child does when they're in Kindergarten and want to play a game. Not elementary school track. Not middle school track. Definetly not high school track- I'm not fast enough. The running made me limp and out of breath, as any kind of running would do. But when I stopped running, my panting never went away. When I stopped, my body couldn't calm down. Chills would blow over me, even though it was 90 degrees out. Sweat would keep dripping down my face, despite my cold chills. My mind raced. My hands shook. My body broke.

I started running through the woods. It was a calm place and I was the storm. He and I were the storm. I ran as far as I could through the thick branches and leaves. I ran past the river and lake. I ran and ran and ran. From him.

HE was going to catch me. HE was going to use me. HE was going to kill me.

So I kept running. From when I was six years old.

5

0

Srilekha in Poetry & Free Verse

37 reads

Restless Nights

Turning off my lamp,

I head to bed.

I drift awake

It felt like days, months had passed.

But I knew it had only been seconds

I lay in bed,

This restless night,

waiting for sleep to come

and take me away.

This restless night,

everything seems real.

The demons come after me.

My dreams felt alive.

The ones that have dwelled in my mind for years.

Turning into vicious creatures that cannot be stopped.

This restless night,

the shadows come to life.

I curl up into a ball like a roly poly

hoping my dream won’t become

a nightmare

but it already did.

This restless night,

they shoot me where I’m weak.

I yell and beg, but no one will help me.

Worthless Useless

My soul cannot be saved,

this restless night.

This restless night,

will be my last one.

This restless night,

my worst fears come to life.

This restless night,

I won’t have another day.

This restless night

I abruptly awake.

6

2

0

Challenge

Make Me Cry My Heart Out

Write a sad story. It's as simple as that. No rules, just make it sad. Thanks

Srilekha

36 reads

I like to shower sometimes.

I like to shower sometimes. The water dripping down my neck and face as I lather soap onto my body. Sliding down my thighs, knees, and legs. Exposed I stand, as the water consumes me into its’ freshness.

I like to shower sometimes because I can think. I think of a dark grey sky. A bright blue lake. A serene green forest. A dazzling purple castle dotted with shining red gems.

I like to shower sometimes because I can think, but sometimes, I cannot control my thoughts. Suddenly, a raven appears in front of me. Cawing and beseeching to me. It reaches out to me in a kind gentle way. And then two million or so others come flying in, soaring through the sky angrily. Four stood next to the poor creature. The vile beings who stood opposing bit and teased at the raven, my friend. She stood there while others tore upon her skin. And slowly, one of my raven’s friends fled. And another, and another, and the last one too. They claimed they had to leave for reasons they could not explain. My raven was left alone again. I tried to reach out and help; I really did. But what could I do when the raven didn’t want my help. She wanted to drown in the bright blue lake. She wanted to grab a branch from the serene green forest and cut her feathers off. She wanted to use the shining red gems from the dazzling purple castle for unspeakable reasons.

And then the raven let out a tear. A tear of despair and sadness. A tear to cry for help. A tear that slid down her upper cheek and landed in the crook of her beak. The raven’s eyes burned and more began to fall. All of the millions of ravens in front of her laughed. They pointed and teased even harder. They called her a crybaby.

‘But I am no crybaby,’ the raven thought. ‘I have feelings. Do you not know what feelings are? Why can I not express my feelings? Like you express your anger through teasing me and calling me names. You express your happiness through a smile. Why did letting salty water out of your eyes become so vile? Something looked down upon in the Raven Realm.’ And she cried, I tell you. The raven cried for days and days. And the others laughed for days and days.

Nothing had changed, but the raven looked up and smiled. She exclaimed, look a sun. A bright ray of sunshine flew through the air and onto her ruffled feathers. She laughed in delight and exclaimed, ‘I am free.’ And faded away.

The silly dream haunted me for ages. I stood in the shower as I lathered my body in soap and cried. What was wrong with me? Why this story?

So many thoughts flooded my mind; unable to organize them, I burst. No longer consumed in the water, I stood dismayed as the heat burned through my skin.

I gasped and plunged into the water. I had immediately started analyzing scene by scene. Was this a reflection of me?

It was unbearable to think of that. Too much to handle, I had thought. No one understands me. What do I really have left in here? Is it possible to drown myself in a shower? Yet, every time I had picked up that razor, I had never made a cut.

Was I scared? And I wondered for ages about that.

That raven came to me as a blessing, I believe. It looked me in the eye and told me there was a way out.

But then there was another story. The raven still cried and the others still teased. Except nothing happened. There was no sunshine. There was no end to the suffering. Of course, if the raven doesn’t put any effort, how will it get out of its’ situation? It’s rational thinking.

But as humans, we have emotional thinking too. Every time I finish this story, the raven looks in the lake and its’ reflection is my face. I am always the raven.

I have consciously made a story which reflects my being. My thoughts. My emotions. Which way should I choose? Which story should I choose?

Regardless of this story, everyday I spend time crying. Releasing all of the pent up stress and worries. Letting go of my thoughts; myself. I know my ray of sunshine won’t come beaming in. I know nothing will change just because I let out salty water from my eyes. They say the eyes are windows to your soul. Can you see my sad, depressing soul now?

I like to shower sometimes because I can think, but sometimes, I cannot control my thoughts, although I am in complete control. Tears merge with the hot shower water as I finally find peace. I am no crybaby. I am simply a human who likes to shower sometimes.

3

1

0

Srilekha

40 reads