In the heart of a quaint village nestled among rolling hills and lush greenery lived a young girl named Maya. She spent her days tending to the family's goats and helping her mother with household chores. Maya was content with her simple life, finding joy in the beauty of nature and the warmth of her close-knit community.
One sunny afternoon, as Maya was walking through the village market, she noticed a young man unlike anyone she had ever seen before. He had an air of sophistication and wore clothes that spoke of the bustling city life. Intrigued, Maya's eyes met his, and in that moment, something stirred within her heart.
The young man, named Rohan, had come to the village on a business trip with his father. Captivated by Maya's natural beauty and gentle demeanor, he couldn't resist introducing himself. Over time, Rohan and Maya spent hours talking, sharing stories, and discovering each other's worlds.
Despite their different upbringings, Maya and Rohan found a deep connection that transcended their backgrounds. Rohan admired Maya's simplicity and the purity of her heart, while Maya was drawn to Rohan's ambition and worldly experiences.
As their bond grew stronger, Rohan knew he couldn't imagine his life without Maya by his side. One evening, under the starlit sky, he gathered the courage to propose to her, offering her a glimpse into a life filled with excitement and adventure in the city.
For Maya, the proposal was both thrilling and daunting. She cherished her village life and the comfort of familiarity, but she couldn't ignore the pull she felt towards Rohan and the promise of a new life with him. After much contemplation, Maya decided to take a leap of faith and accept Rohan's proposal, ready to embark on a new chapter of her life filled with love and possibility.
About the Creator
kristiono
stories about life, there is no end. There are always stories that we have to experience and go through, joys and sorrows that we have to go through. always think positively about the life we live
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
THis is a lovely and deeply romantic story. Makes me wonder how it works out!