Love

A Bench
He sits down on the bench. It’s just like he remembers. His fingertips slide over the wooden planks. They are dark with dampness from the early morning showers, but not damp enough to leave a mark on his khakis. How long has it been since he last sat here? 3 years? 4 maybe? The bench is turned so that it overlooks the center of the park where, during the day, there is non-stop activity. There was always something to spectate. People walking their dogs, couples picnicking, kids playing tag. They would alternate between joining the activities of the park and sitting on the bench, watching the activities unfold. Sometimes, while they sat, they would get ideas for what to bring the next time they decided to picnic. She always thought too big and he always had to remind her that they can only carry so much to the park, especially when it is only him carrying things. She always found a way to get out of it. He chuckles thinking of that. He can’t blame her for never helping carry the food, after all, he was the gullible sucker that fell for her innocent gaze and sweet talking every time. He sighs softly thinking of that.
By Jim Ryan4 years ago in Fiction
Love takes away more than it gives.
- In the days of the Ramayana, the earth was hesitant. It is not ram and not hands. But if Kali had any hesitation, it would be for the benefit of others, not Ramapati. Frankly, I do not understand that there is no human. Everyone was standing on top of the hill, talking. Suddenly Nanellar shouted. If I say - Ray is coming, but not until then. We all looked and saw Ramapati and entered his house again. Everyone realizes that no matter how urgent Ramapati's mission may be, he must stop paving the way as it is now. When you get home, you can sit quietly for a while. Then he sent a servant to take a look. If the server comes back and says the road is clear, he can go out again. I said let's go, what's the point of being difficult? Why did Nanilal say he's moving? Is this the way? Shall we eat a girl learning to read?
By Nikhil Bhowmik4 years ago in Fiction
Melody's Muse - Epilogue
1 year later Melody From the corner of my eye, I can see Cole shuffling restlessly in his chair by the door. I swear he has the patience of a child sometimes. I roll my eyes, what a baby. The lawyer, a man with greying hair, probably only a few years from retirement, passes another document from a seemingly endless stack to Lauren and I across the table. We each sign it and hand it back.
By Luna Elle4 years ago in Fiction
Romance in love
-Romance in I won't say the name of the notorious station in Chottanagpur where I go for a change of air. Professional air converters can't find this place. There is also sixteen ounces of milk and one chicken for two Hanan. But the moon also has its mark. In the language of the poet "Dusar Jan Nahi sang". Nobody can open up and say two things in one day. Postmaster Babu was there, but he was old and in a bad mood. In addition, there are Bangladeshis at the station. But he was so addicted to railroad goods and bottled goods that he ceased to exist as a social being.
By Nikhil Bhowmik4 years ago in Fiction
A dark night
- night Go to school with Surabala and play the role of wife. When I went to their house, Surabala's mother was looking after me, so she gathered us together and said to herself, "Ah, they are both fine, I'm still young, but I always understand what that means." Not that I did not judge and harass him, but that he violently carried out all his orders and punishments. I know that Surabala was born in my father's house to acknowledge my lordship, so he deserves my own neglect.
By Nikhil Bhowmik4 years ago in Fiction
Romantic afternoon
Romantic afternoon - Why do you look at your sister without letting me know this sunny brother? - what are you talking about...
By Nikhil Bhowmik4 years ago in Fiction
Water
As a boy, I lived close to a raging river. If I kept my bedroom window open at night I could hear the waters tumbling over and over as they roared and rumbled into infinity, for not a half mile from my home an enormous waterfall thundered over a high cliff forming a deep swirling pool of dark water on the rocks below. This river was said to be fed by a hundred streams.
By Dan Glover4 years ago in Fiction
Love starts with rain
Love starts with rain After the SSC exam, my mind became desperate for a long vacation. Neither my body nor my mind was stingy in running from here to there.
By Nikhil Bhowmik4 years ago in Fiction
Lilac Scented Dreams (8)
Laying in this now mud puddle, I fall further into it. As if sinking into the earth itself. Trembling, glancing around, and like always I am alone. Tears streamed down my face as if my eyes were a part of the clouds themselves. Feeling a flame ignite inside of me, power flowing through all of my veins. Something breaking and snapping at the same moment the sky closes in on itself once more. Clouds invading the sky and hiding the sun's shameful brightness. Lightning striking next to my body, thunder roaring in bitter resent. Standing up slowly and angrily, mud falling off of my clothes, hitting the ground rejoining where it once was. Feeling something open inside my mind like a secret door hiding in a closet. Eyes lighting up with the lightning strikes. Seeing and feeling things I have been through in this life and parts of the past. All the pain, loss, misery. The love, happiness, and courage, everything building up and flowing out like a stream of water.
By Kristina Brule4 years ago in Fiction
Love life: I use food and Netflix to touch my heart
Love life: I use food and Netflix to touch my heart Cynthia, 30, and Eizen, 29, have been dating for six months, and today in the life of their friendship, they talk about making a fortune after reviewing each other's records in Zikoko, and overcoming obstacles to make concessions to each other.
By Nikhil Bhowmik4 years ago in Fiction
Surrender the love
the love I went last evening to visit with my auntie. You can't simply recount stories, you can tell them by paying attention to them. Try not to pay attention to the story, I'm not so persistent.
By Nikhil Bhowmik4 years ago in Fiction
Flights of Fancy
Ailanna King felt her spirits lift as she began ascending the iron staircase spiraling to the research loft high above the main floor of the Putnam City Library. It was still very early in the morning and Ailanna knew the third floor would be in empty solitude…a perfectly private domain where she could work undisturbed on her psychology thesis.
By Gail Allyson King4 years ago in Fiction