Love
Remembrance
The news first reached Old Mama on her feet. He leaned forward to rest a lot of weight on the cartilaginous nodes between his front legs bent to form a strong contact with the ground, it was better to detect the seismic signals that were moving over the rock beneath the soft plains of the Highveld. The muscle in each of his large African ears is tied, soothing acoustic signals driven by cool air, allowing him to focus on lower vibrations. On the rich ground, he heard the steady movement of another family of elephants, another part of his bond team. They were traveling, a day trip from here. Although she had not heard that much, she knew that the Old Mother of another family must have applauded her grief. However, the quake did not sound alarmed or alarm. No, it was sad.
By Sejal shrestha4 years ago in Fiction
Neelam is the daughter of a rich family, she should be 13-14 years
Production Production Rishi's first love was with his classmate "Neelam". Neelam is the daughter of a rich family, she should be 13-14 years old, and the bracelet is beautiful. Neelam's father was a real estate agent and a very rich man.
By nikhil bhowmik4 years ago in Fiction
Miss Violet May from the Twelve Thousand Lakes
All of us fellas loved Miss Violet May, right from the start. She came from the land of Twelve Thousand Lakes, came click-clacking on the train from North to South till she met worthless Sorry Joe Weevily, and he sweet-talked her into getting off and marrying him.
By Rajya laxmi4 years ago in Fiction
A Heart For Death
Summary: Persephone is the cold hearted queen of the underworld. That is what the other gods believe because of Zeus. Due to certain evil acts against mortals, she becomes chained to the underworld and unable to leave. After her punishment is finally laxed she's able to mingle among mortals again, and when she meets the god of spring Hades both of their worlds get turned upside down.
By Leora-Chan4 years ago in Fiction
Crooked
I called the number first thing in the morning and was greeted with an automated message saying that it had been disconnected. My morning continued as usual, however sloppily due to my post-martini condition. I’d overslept, and yet I hadn’t slept at all. My head pounded, echoing with the last words I’d heard Wesley speak all those years ago.
By E. M. Otten4 years ago in Fiction
