ANGELIC HELP_best friend, first love, both lost_Evanescence_Michel and the Rose-a Retelling.
Catalog Guide:
ANGELIC HELP
ANGELIC HELPThat’s the thing about this city. This ‘thing’, often referred to as the ‘propensity towards mutual help’, has raised the city of Mumbai to increasing levels of humaneness as it has demonstrated, time and again, its indomitable spirit of rising to the occasion and of common well-being, as being valuable tenets embedded in its DNA. The confluence of cultures with a community willing to help overrides the occasional stench emanating from the backwaters of the Arabian Sea and the sounds of the local trains, the lifeline of the metropolis, whizzing past the shanties and overcrowded col...
best friend, first love, both lost
Limp weeds crushed under rain boots. Chubby hands intertwined.Bright smiles. Rosy cheeks and noses. Squeals of laughter filling the air.That was the earlier memory of the Spring Festival he could recall. It was rainy. And that would be enough of an excuse for the vendors and money makers to ask for a ‘rain date’. But, never once, had Tailes delayed their Spring Festival, and being superstitious people by nature they refused to be the ones to start a trend of delayed events.In the muggy weather. The air was warm and humid. Kids ran around, wetting the cuffs of their jeans with rainwater that ma...
Evanescence
We’re ten. Our parents have forced us to play outside for once despite our loud protests. But of course, we’re completely fine once we’re out. We have snuck out of my backyard and into the strip of woods that lie beyond, walking side by side on the trail.“A woodpecker!” You’re ecstatic. “You hear it? That’s the first sign of spring!”Spring is your favorite season. I have never understood why; you say it’s beautiful, but I prefer autumn, when the trees are aflame in scarlet finery. I shrug, hands in my pockets.“It’s too loud.”You elbow me. “You’re too loud.”I grin. You are always the only one w...
Michel and the Rose-a www.onedoor.ccRetelling.
This would make a great once upon a time story, Michel thought. Except, I’m in it. Maybe the next time someone tells you a place is haunted you’ll believe it, said a voice inside him. If there was a next time which seemed doubtful, considering who was screaming at him right this very moment. All because he’d dared to ask why he’d been captured. “Why are you in this cell?” roared the monster. “Because you stole my flowers!” Michel was amazed he could look at him without screaming himself. Monsters weren’t supposed to exist. Everyone in England was too enlightened for that. Yet here was one. He,...