ENCHANTED PARK_The Rightful Owner_The window of opportunity._The Cost of Mercy
Catalog Guide:
ENCHANTED PARK
It was time of the Spring Festival. The park named Flowerland had flowers in abundance. The beauty of the flowers and their smell captivated people. Before it was opened to the public the Fairy Godmother announced “I’m making this Flowerland into an Enchanted one where people who come alive can repent.” The first to answer came up and said “I’m Lady Constance Chatterley. All must’ve heard of me.”The second who came said “I’m Mellors who was the game keeper in the Chatterley estate. I was told I had also to repent.” Connie said “The flowers are welcoming. The place is alive. Birds are pecking a...
The Rightful Owner
The Rightful Owner Inside a florist shop.. Roses (the red roses): “Good morning!! I am bathed and decked up for this day. What a beautiful day, hope I get picked by a beautiful person. A man enters the store and spits out a gum and asks the seller to give him a bouquet “Seller: What kind of bouquet sir? Would you like to see around?” Man: “Anything. It’s for gifting. So give what people generally give for gifts.” Roses: “No..Not me..Not to him” Seller before picking the colour for roses, wants to confirm with the Man and starts to ask him. Seller: “Sir, May I..” Man: Why is it so hard for you ...
The window of opportunity.
It was a wet and windy morning, Sofina woke with a sudden urge to clean and declutter the 4 corners of her 3-bedroom house.She got up, made herself a mocha, sat down and drank it while she contemplated where to start.Sofina, being a spiritual young woman, but with many negative blockages she had absorbed during her 41 years on earth as an empath and a spiritual being having a human experience, had lost contact with her higher self, and her true purpose which was to bring spirituality back to earth.She went along her day throwing out anything she found that was rubbish, or broken and putting an...
The Cost of Mercy
I still remember those scenes vividly. Or perhaps not. I can see them, but I wonder if the truth is tainted. Memories decay with time and are often poorly reconstructed. Moreover, I wonder if those still seemingly fresh images are painted a darker shade with hindsight. It was night. The dancing flames of the smoldering camp were dying, flickering out like the shortened lives of the stragglers. I was well beyond the bands of the makeshift camp, and my force had thinned in pursuit of the scattered enemy. After breaking, They ran with the utmost desperation or hid under the cover of darkness. We ...