A fortune in freedom_Golden Eye_Alma Mater_FFURFU THOMA
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A fortune in freedom
The wheel turned, the awful lights flickered and the beeping sounds of the device were merely an afterthought at the sight of that pin. “Come on, green.. come on.” I whispered between my lips, twirling the stick of that free lollipop. I wasn’t alone but I was next, win or lose, this twirl was gonna be my last. I could see his eyes, those unnatural red eyes.. a mere cosplay that fit the scene to most but no to me, no I knew the truth and they knew that I knew that my time was either about to get bright, or very dark. The spin became slower, time became slower, or was it my heart that beat faste...
Golden Eye
Golden Eye Suzanne MarshHe stood erect, his attire was a bluish green type toga. The thing that drew the attention of the few other survivors of the nuclear holocaust, this visitor had one Golden eye that reminded me of a picture of Cyclops I had seen. He quietly strode down the ramp of his ship. It reminded most of us of the Russian Turpolev PAK-DA Stealth Bombers, than had flown over us the day; all of the Unites States was obliterated. We were the few, who had survival skills. We were prepared, we had nuclear shelters. Now we were facing a major problem, we were running out of food and wate...
Alma Mater
When the letter dropped through the reclusive Mr James Hans’s door, he wondered, who writes letters these days? It was a hand delivered letter folded neatly into itself on a fine piece of stiff paper. His name was neatly printed in gold letters. He surmised that since he did not have an email whomever it was, had no choice but to post it. His rejection of the ‘web’ as he called it, meant he had virtually no digital footprint, nor did Mr James Hans, care to be at the beck and call of a mobile. He did have a landline but hated being interrupted during the cricket, so it was an x directory number...
FFURFU THOMA
FURFU-THUMABaltu Mittar was missing. During my excursion to Darjeeling lost trace of him. I searched each & every probable place. No trace of him. I was considering advertising in a newspaper about missing www.onedoor.ccBaltu. Writings draft of advertisement as I was about to go to the office of the newspaper along with a photograph of Baltu, a postman appeared in my residence handing over me a registered letter. Opening the letter, I found it was from my dear friend Baltu. He has written to me. ‘It’s a confidential letter’ endorsed initially. Hence I couldn’t pulge to anyone about him. The narration of Ba...