Jack’s eyes lazily scanned the room, taking in all, accommodating none. Gillian paused mid-speech, in spite of herself and her breath stuck in her throat. Then she caught herself and smoothly moved on, ramming her words into each other to create an artful slip of tongue. The ripple of amusement…
She’s generous. Just bring her a great deal of stories. But he knew that already.
I always imagined writer’s block would be about running out of things to write about. But the ideas are there. They just don’t flow properly? Yeah…you know how it feels like pen and paper or keyboard and screen are one with your body and that the blood in your veins…
Poison,Was laced intoThe first glass of sweet wine you offered me Since then even water tastes like fire From betrayal is born vindictivenessAnd for those of us who never forgetIt is akin to the demon child born of a mortal womb You will always be the poison in my sweet…
A week of passion is always followed by a hangover.
He looks at her from the corner of his eyeThinking she won’t noticeSecretly hoping she willSo secret, he won’t even admit to himself She feels his lookLike sunlight, warm on her cheeksHer eyes stay downcastShielded from his blinding gazeWarmed nevertheless by its intensity Then it starts to rain.
A short tale in 55 words. Her parents say that she was born talking. Then she discovered writingEnglish grammar compositionsStories and poetryLetters and emailsChats and instant messagingSMSes, Orkut scrapsResumes and reports Then she stumbled onto bloggingAnd anonymous postingEven editing and deletingAnd much later, private publishing But silence is yet to…
A short tale in 55 words about value, money and worth.
A 55 word tale about kissing.
A 55 word story about interactions and fair play.
