Love
A Girls Story
I knew a girl who saved money for marriage instead of spending her varsity life in comfort and fun. The girl was my roommate. This girl studying chemistry at Eden College used to get up every morning and walk from Green Road to Eden to save ten rupees. But if someone asked, he would say with a smile, "I was going to wrap up, so I walked." But I know that she is saving money for marriage despite starving.
By SHOZIB RAIHAN2 years ago in Fiction
Forgiveness: Healing Family Wounds
Family Revelation and Healing Ivarie and Devon were surprised when their fourteen-year-old daughter, Devina, and twelve-year-old son, Ivan, asked for a family meeting as soon as they got home from school. They waited for their parents to settle in. Ivarie quickly checked her phone for any messages from the school. "Anything?" Devon asked. "No," she replied, feeling frustrated. "Did you check your phone?" "The father is the last person the school is going to call. Mothers first," he reminded her. "Darn!" she muttered, settling into the sofa. Their children walked into the living room, their expressions unreadable. Devina spoke first, rolling her eyes. "Today at school, some kids were talking about the fun they had with their grandparents." "Mom, we don’t know your side of the family. I don’t know my grandparents or your brothers and sisters. Why not?" Devina asked. "And I don’t want to marry my half-sister," Ivan added. Three pairs of eyes turned to him in shock. "You have a child I don’t know about?" Ivarie asked her husband. "You all know my side of the family," Devon said, trying to stay out of the conversation. Ivarie pulled him back. "You are supposed to support me here." "Which half-sister don’t you want to marry?" Devon asked Ivan. "I’m just saying I don’t know my family," Ivan explained. "Dad, we don’t know much about Mom’s family. I could be in the same class as my cousin and not know it," Devina said. "She doesn’t talk to her family," Devon pointed out. Ivarie sighed, realizing her daughter was serious. "I kept you away from my family because I didn’t want them to mess up your lives like they did mine." "Mom, we know about the abuse you endured," Devina said. Ivarie turned to her husband. "You told our daughter about what they did to me?" "Dad didn’t tell us anything," Devina said. "I heard you over the years talking to your friends on the phone. Mom, we’re not stupid." Ivan added, "Mom, we noticed you have no family pictures here." Ivarie sighed deeply. "Life does everything at the right time. My mom just died." "What?" both children cried out. "One of my aunts just told me," she said, holding up her phone. "I planned to go to the funeral alone." "Can we go?" Devina asked. Ivarie nodded. Devina hugged her mother. "I know you survived and have forgiven them. But your children should know who to avoid." Devon’s eyes met Ivarie’s, mixed with shock. He nodded in agreement. One week later, Ivarie’s siblings were shocked to see her and her family at their mother’s wake. Her Aunt Dorsey stepped in. "Wrong timing!" At the funeral, Ivarie couldn’t control her two sisters and brother. Ionie screamed as their mother’s casket was lowered. "I hope Satan punishes her for what she did to us." "And whips her with electric cords as she did to us," Ira, their brother, added. "I hope he chains her to one of hell’s flaming radiators like she did to us," Iyanna added. They all stared at Ivarie, who walked closer to the casket, threw in a single red rose, and said, "Thank you." "How dare you come here with your happy family, pretending that devil was an angel!" Ionie screamed. The rest of the family and friends stepped back. As her siblings released their anger, Ivarie’s family formed a protective circle around her. "You walk in here as if you’re better than us and she wasn’t mean to you too!" Iyanna shouted. "You’re the only happy fool here! Why?" Ira demanded. "Because my mom knew the value of forgiveness!" Devina shouted, stepping forward. "My mother used forgiveness to cleanse her body, mind, heart, and soul!" Three pairs of eyes filled with years of hatred and pain stared at her. "Forgiveness is a gift you should give yourself so you can be as happy as my mom!" Devina continued. "She didn’t deny you your happiness. The hate you held onto did!" Unconsciously, they stepped back as Devina approached with the tool of truth. "You’re adults. Use forgiveness to cleanse your hearts as my mom did. With so much hatred inside you, love will pass you by! My mom used forgiveness to clean her heart, and that’s why she’s happy!" The crowd clapped, and Ivarie’s family rushed to embrace her. "Oh, Mom, I’m sorry for everything that—" Smiling as if she won a prize for forgiveness, Ivarie hugged her daughter tightly. "I’m not sorry for what was done to me. I didn’t realize that I was using forgiveness to find happiness. If my life had been better, I might not have the love of such a good family." "So, your mother’s cruelty was worth the price?" Devina asked. Devon and Ivarie’s eyes widened, and they hugged their children in gratitude. You and I are like Ivarie. We’re satisfied with the price we paid for our love because we know that everything in life comes at a price. The cruelty done to us as children—many haven’t been able to move past the pain, letting hatred stop their happiness. Using forgiveness as a cleanser to remove the hate allows love in and makes it worth the price. If your heart could speak, what would it say? Use forgiveness to clean your heart, allowing light and love in. Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this piece.
By Sandeep Kumar 2 years ago in Fiction
Echoes of Hope
Rina sat at the kitchen table, the faint hum of Jakarta's bustling streets filtering through the cracked window. Bills were strewn across the surface, each one a stark reminder of the economic crisis tightening its grip on her life. As a single mother raising her ten-year-old son, Adit, after the sudden loss of her husband, Rina felt the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. Every morning, Rina woke up with a sense of dread, unsure of how she would navigate the day without a job. The department store where she had worked for years had closed, leaving her without income and with depleting savings. Despite her efforts to remain hopeful, the future seemed bleak. One morning, as she watched Adit getting ready for school, she saw the familiar sparkle in his eyes, a glimmer of hope and dreams. Adit had always been fascinated by space, and today was no different. "Mom, did you know astronauts float in space? I want to be an astronaut someday," he declared with enthusiasm. Rina mustered a smile. "That's a wonderful dream, Adit. And I believe you can achieve it." After dropping Adit off at school, Rina walked aimlessly through the neighborhood, her mind occupied with worries. She passed by a community center with a large banner that read: "Join Us! Volunteers Needed for Community Kitchen." Rina paused, considering the opportunity. Volunteering wouldn't solve her financial problems, but it could provide a sense of purpose and community support. Determined to make a difference, Rina entered the community center and signed up to volunteer. The coordinator, a warm and welcoming woman named Ibu Sari, greeted her with open arms. "Thank you for joining us, Rina. We can always use more helping hands." Rina's days became filled with activity. She chopped vegetables, stirred large pots of soup, and served meals to those in need. The sense of camaraderie among the volunteers and the gratitude of the people they served gave Rina a renewed sense of purpose. For a few hours each day, she could forget her troubles and focus on helping others. One afternoon, as Rina was cleaning up after the lunch service, Ibu Sari approached her. "Rina, I see how dedicated you are. We're looking for a part-time coordinator here at the center. It doesn't pay much, but it could be a start. Would you be interested?" Rina's heart leapt with hope. "Yes, I would love that. Thank you for thinking of me." With the part-time job at the community center, Rina began to rebuild her life. She networked with people from various backgrounds, some of whom offered her small jobs and freelance opportunities. Every little bit helped, and slowly, she began to see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. Adit, too, found joy in volunteering at the community center. His youthful energy and enthusiasm brought smiles to everyone's faces. He helped serve meals, played games with the children, and even started a small garden in the center's backyard. Watching him thrive, Rina felt a sense of pride and hope. Months passed, and Rina's hard work paid off. She secured a full-time position as a customer service representative at a local company. It wasn't her dream job, but it provided stability and a steady income. She continued to volunteer at the community center, grateful for the support and friendships she had found there. One evening, after a long day at work, Rina and Adit sat on their small balcony, watching the sun set over the city. The sky was ablaze with colors, and for the first time in a long while, Rina felt a sense of peace. "Mom, do you think things will get better?" Adit asked, leaning against her. Rina hugged him close, looking out at the horizon. "Yes, I do. We just have to keep moving forward, one step at a time." Adit smiled up at her. "Like footprints in the sand, right?" Rina nodded, tears of gratitude welling in her eyes. "Exactly. Like footprints in the sand. No matter how hard the tide hits, we'll keep leaving our mark." As they sat there, Rina realized that their journey, though fraught with challenges, was also filled with moments of connection, love, and resilience. They were stronger together, and with each step, they were carving out a path towards a brighter future.
By DEDEN JOHAR SETIAWAN2 years ago in Fiction
Shattered Hearts
Introduction: In the realm of love, whispers once sweet, Now echoes of pain and sorrow meet. A relationship, once strong and true, Now crumbling, breaking into two. A breakup's anguish, raw and deep, Through this nonet, we'll softly weep, As we navigate the fragments of love, And find solace in the skies above.
By aruna rana2 years ago in Fiction
Forgiveness Is A Heart Cleanser. Top Story - July 2024.
Ivarie and Devon were shocked when their fourteen-year-old daughter and twelve-year-old son demanded a family meeting as they stepped inside from school. Both sat on the sofa, curiosity lining their faces as they waited for them to take their bags to their room. Ivarie checked her phone to see if anyone from their school had sent her a warning or a message.
By Annelise Lords 2 years ago in Fiction
Broken Angel
In a little, beautiful town settled between moving slopes and a quiet lake, carried on with a man named Adrian. He was a stone worker, known for his flawless works that caught the embodiment of human inclination. However, regardless of his ability, Adrian was a singular figure, tormented by the memory of an affection lost. At some point, while investigating the edges of the town for motivation, Adrian coincidentally found an old, deserted church. Interest drove him inside, where he found a broken down special stepped area and broke stained glass windows projecting divided light across the dusty floor. In a corner, nearly concealed by the shadows, stood a sculpture of a holy messenger. The holy messenger was broken, her wings chipped and her face broke. Notwithstanding her harmed state, there was something significantly lovely about her. Adrian felt an odd association with this sculpture, as though she reflected his own broke heart. He chose to take the holy messenger back to, not entirely set in stone to reestablish her to her previous greatness. As the days transformed into weeks, Adrian emptied his spirit into the reclamation. Each cautious stroke of his etch, each fragile brush of paint, was a demonstration of affection. He worked indefatigably, frequently sometime later, determined by a profound, implicit need. Adrian started to see the holy messenger as a piece of craftsmanship, however as an image of his lost love. In her messed up structure, he saw the aggravation he had persevered; in her rebuilding, he saw the chance of recuperating. As he worked, he addressed the holy messenger, sympathizing with his recollections and his distress, his expectations and his fantasies. The holy messenger turned into his quiet comrade, the watchman of his most profound feelings. One night, as the last contacts were made, Adrian ventured back to respect his work. The heavenly messenger presently stood brilliant, her magnificence completely reestablished. However, notwithstanding her actual flawlessness, she held a hint of her previous brokenness, a demonstration of the excursion she had gone through. Adrian felt a feeling of conclusion. He understood that in reestablishing the holy messenger, he had likewise started to retouch his own heart. The cycle had instructed him that affection, in any event, when it appears to be lost, can abandon a tradition of solidarity and magnificence. However the heavenly messenger could never return his sentiments, she had given Adrian something undeniably more significant: the mental fortitude to confront his aggravation and the desire to push ahead. The messed up heavenly messenger had turned into his very own image strength, an update that even the most profound injuries could be recuperated with time and care. Adrian put the heavenly messenger in the town square, where she remained as an encouraging sign and motivation for all who cruised by. And keeping in mind that his affection for her stayed implicit, it was scratched into each line and bend of her structure, a quiet demonstration of the force of an adoration that had risen above the limits of existence. Thank you for reading the complete story....... If you like my story then please don't forget to like and comment.. and if you like this kind of stories then don't forget to subscribe to my account...... So subscribe and share it with your friends........
By Tanushree Das2 years ago in Fiction
Fall From Heaven
In a modest community settled between moving slopes and murmuring woods, carried on with a young lady named Lily. She was known for her good nature and an other-worldly magnificence that appeared to be practically extraordinary. Every morning, she would visit the glade right beyond town, where she felt most settled. One fall day, while the brilliant leaves fell like a delicate downpour, Lily saw an outsider in the knoll. He was tall, with dull, wavy hair and dark blue eyes that appeared to hold the mysteries of the universe. His name was Gabriel, and he conveyed an air of secret that interested Lily. As days transformed into weeks, Lily and Gabriel started to consistently meet. They would talk for quite a long time, sharing dreams, fears, and accounts of their pasts. Gabriel was not normal for anybody Lily had at any point met. He talked about far off lands, antiquated accounts, and ageless love. However, there was dependably a smidgen of pity in his eyes. One night, as the sun plunged underneath the skyline, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange, Gabriel grasped Lily's hand. "There's something I should tell you," he said delicately. "Dislike the others here. I come from a spot a long ways past your creative mind. I tumbled from paradise." Lily's heart dashed, yet she didn't pull away. "For what reason did you come here?" she asked, her voice scarcely over a murmur. Gabriel's look relaxed. "I was shipped off guide and secure. Be that as it may, in you, I found something I wasn't anticipating. I tracked down affection." Tears welled in Lily's eyes. "In any case, what's the significance here for us?" Gabriel grinned tenderly. "It intends that while my time here is restricted, my affection for you is everlasting. Each second we share is a gift, a piece of endlessness woven into the texture of time." As the primary stars sparkled in the night sky, Lily and Gabriel shared a kiss, fixing their affection in that otherworldly second. However their time together was passing, the memory of their adoration would wait everlastingly, a demonstration of the possibility that even the briefest experience can leave an enduring effect. Thus, in the knoll where they met, the residents frequently discussed the holy messenger who tumbled from paradise and the one who showed him the genuine significance of adoration. Their story turned into a legend, a wonderful update that adoration has no limits, not even those among paradise and earth. Thank you for reading my complete story...... If you like it please don't forget to like, comment and please subscribe to my account to stay undated.... If you like it please also share it with your friends......
By Tanushree Das2 years ago in Fiction
The Magical Pet
In the picturesque village of Willowbrook, nestled deep within a lush valley bordered by ancient forests, lived a young girl named Elara. Elara was known throughout the village for her adventurous spirit and her deep love for animals. She spent her days exploring the woods, searching for hidden treasures and befriending the creatures that called the forest their home.
By Wisdom Nexus2 years ago in Fiction
Oceans
As I sit here on my balcony having a glass of vanilla tinted bourbon, listening to the deep, melodic voice of Grozav singing in the living room, I wonder if I made the whole thing up in my head, just to justify my theft and leaving. Sometimes I think that they never actually happened. That the copper and salt that stained my tongue and chest and the purple and yellow circles around my eyes were not the result of his fist connecting with my face. The aching, swollen, welts flushed with color were not a result of the whip's lash on my back. Why do we question ourselves when we know for certain that there were events which took place that changed us inside? Why do we simultaneously tell ourselves we are crazy and tell ourselves that we are not, that it truly happened? “Convincing myself I’m not crazy is driving me crazy”.
By Kristina Zill2 years ago in Fiction
Parisian Light
The mid-morning sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets of Montmartre as Anya, a petite woman with a shock of fiery red hair, adjusted the settings on her vintage Leica M6. A cool breeze tousled her hair, carrying the scent of blooming lilacs from a nearby park. She had traveled from St. Petersburg to Paris, seeking inspiration in the city of lights, hoping to escape the gray skies and political unrest of her homeland. The winding alleys, adorned with colorful flower boxes and the smell of freshly baked croissants wafting from quaint cafes, held a timeless charm that she longed to capture through her lens.
By Kristina Zill2 years ago in Fiction
