A Message in a Bottle

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#MiracleChallenge : Week – 11

Challenge No : 4

Write a Story/ Poem using Prompt Theme –

A MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE

You write it down
And cast it far away,
Hoping someone will find it
Somewhere in the sea of words,
In the atmosphere of versed clouds.

It often starts simply
With an image, a memory,
An emotion long forgotten,
Turning soon into something more,
Fictional but true.

You bare your soul,
And offer pieces of your mind.
Sometimes the feeling’s good,
Inspiration like a warm hug,
Other times it makes you weep,
Art born from pain once felt.

And you write on,
Cry out your poetry in silence,
Each letter a scream,
Each word laughter,
And you cast it in the air
For someone to find and read –
Your message in a bottle.


Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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The Message

#MiracleChallenge : Week – 10

( http://wp.me/p7uUNQ-2lA )

Challenge No : 5

Write a Tiny Tale /Poem using below prompt image in 5 or less sentences(for tale) and 5 or less lines(for poem)

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He came back home, exhausted. It was late, and she was probably already asleep since she had to go to work early in the morning.

He cursed his life, but then, suddenly, his mood changed. His heart warmed up as he noticed that she had left a message on the table, using his childhood toys. Smile, her message said, and he did smile, remembering why life was not so bad after all.

Captured Moments… Northern Ireland

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So, as I mentioned in a previous post, I went on a vacation to Ireland this summer. We were staying in Dublin, but we also made two bus tours outside the city. The first one was to Northern Ireland, so I decided to dedicate this post just to that one tour. It would be to much to fit everything in just one post. 😉

Anyway, we left Dublin early in the morning, 7:30. It was a quiet ride until the first stop – the Dark Hedges.

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Now, if this isn’t gorgeous, I don’t know what is. The hedges were planted by the Stuart family in the eighteenth century. It was intended to impress visitors as they approached the entrance to their home, which I think they succeeded in. And, yes, Game of Thrones was filmed there.

The next stop was wonderful as well – Carrick-A-Rede island which is connected to the coast by a rope bridge.

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It was really fun to cross it! And the nature there was perfect.

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That’s me in the last photo, trying to make my own version of Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog. XD

The next stop was at the Giant’s Causeway – the 37,000 basalt columns whose tops form “stepping stones” leading from the cliff foot and disappearing under the sea. It’s a real wonder of nature! The legend says it was built by the giant Finn McCool who wanted to cross over to Scotland to fight the Scottish giant. The Scottish giant proved to be much bigger than Finn, so he ran away and hid himself in his son’s nursery. When the Scottish giant came and saw how big the baby was, he deduced that its father must be enormus, so he ran away, destroying the causeway behind him.

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That’s me and my brother frowning behind me. XD

And finally, we had a little bit of time to walk around Belfast. The city is very beautiful, both old and modern, unfortunately we didn’t have the time to see much of it.

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We were back in Dublin in the evening, a little before 9 p.m. And I plan to take you to Dublin as well, soon. 😉

The Awakening: A Prologue

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He woke up in dark. At first he thought he was blind, but slowly he got used to the darkness and the tiny streak of light which came through the roof was enough for him to see his surroundings. He didn’t recognize anything. And suddenly, he realized he didn’t even know who he was.
He couldn’t remember his name. No memories of the past could be reached, no matter how hard he tried. He breathed in deeply.

Calm down.

He needed to start from smaller things. He got up from the bed. There was almost no furniture beside it, just an empty chair on the other side of the room. Was this how homes were supposed to look? Something told him it wasn’t, though he couldn’t picture any home at all.
The only source of light was coming from the roof. Was this some kind of a basement? The word just came to him, and it almost felt like a vague memory. Was it possible for him to climb up?
The roof wasn’t tall. He could easily reach it with his hands. He came to the source of light, and he realized it was a trapdoor. He pushed it, and it opened easily. So, he wasn’t some kind of a prisoner.
He took the chair, put it underneath the opening, and climbed out. No, he wasn’t a prisoner. He was being kept safe. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he was certain it was true.

Am I really safe?

He was now in another small room, but it wasn’t dark. The sun came in through the windows. He looked outside. He was surrounded by nothing but grass and trees. He was being kept safe. Far from everyone. No one should be able to find him.

But why?

This room was also almost entirely unfurnished. Just an old couch. But there was a door, and it led to the bathroom.

How did he remember that?

Yes, it was a bathroom. Small but clean. Obviously, someone came here. Watched over him. He could almost picture a face, but it was blurry. He looked at himself in the mirror. And then it came to him.
The blurry image was of a woman. He still couldn’t remember her name. But he remembered how he came here. And he knew he had to wait for a few minutes, and the rest will come as well.

He remembered the pain.
He remembered crawling here, and he remembered her, finding him.
He remembered the blue light.
He remembered how peaceful it felt.
And, finally, he remembered who he was.

He was the Lord of the Underground. And he came back to finish what he had once started.


Do you remember those East and West stories of mine? Well, they never left my mind completely. I’m changing the concept and making them into a novel. Maybe… Anyway, this is where it all starts. 😉

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.

A Visitor

#MiracleChallenge : Week – 7

Challenge No : 4

Write a Story/ Poem using Prompt Theme – A VISITOR

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Celestine was home alone, and she found it soothing. She filled a cup with coffee and made herself cosy, sitting sideways and lifting her legs over the curved arm of the sofa. She took a sip from the little cup and felt a cloud of peace envelop her. The tapping of the rain was the only sound that could be heard. This was exactly what she needed.

Suddenly, the door rang. It sounded like a scream, too loud in the soft quiet of the room.
Who could it be? Celestine’s husband was on a meeting and her sons had just recently left the house. There was no way they could be back so soon.
Celestine approached the door with caution. She didn’t know why, but she felt uneasy. Something wasn’t as it should be.

“Who is it?” she asked but no answer came.

Why did she give a day off to Bertha? Her kind servant would’ve made her less anxious, and she would be the one to open the door.

“Who is it?” Celestine asked again.

“Your old friend,” a male voice said, a voice she couldn’t quite place, but it evoked even more fear. Fear she couldn’t explain.

Celestine finally decided to open the door. She gasped. The first thing she saw were glowing, silver strands of hair. Though wet from the rain, they looked soft and beautiful. Celestine knew immediately who the man on her doorstep was, and she couldn’t believe it.

“You won’t invite me in?” the unexpected visitor said.

Celestine was too stupefied to do or say anything, and she didn’t stop the man when he walked through the door. He went straight to the living room and she, as if suddenly awakened, ran after him.

“Eric…” she spoke, his name the only word she could utter.

“My darling Celestine,” he faced her with a wide smile.

She could now see his face well, and she found it unchanged. How could that be? He looked just the same when she last saw him, and that was almost twenty years ago. She couldn’t find a single trace of aging. His face was the same as the day she put a bullet to his chest.

“How can this be?” she asked herself.

“You know I’m hard to kill,” he was still smiling.

“But you… You haven’t changed…”

“I come from where the magic is, dear Celestine. I told you so many times, magic exists and it is there for the taking, only if you dare to do it.”

“I don’t want to take part in anything like that!” fear was threatening to overcome her, but Celestine stood strong.

“I know that,” Eric’s smile became a smirk. “You’ve proven to be quite untrustworthy. I’m not here for you, anyway.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want my son.”

Celestine’s mind immediately produced a picture of her older son and his silver hair, the same as Eric’s. The son who never acted like a part of the family, who always searched for something else, something different. The son in whose eyes gleamed a dark spark of magic.

“What are you talking about?” it was best to act stupid, she decided.

“I know he’s mine. And you and your husband know that as well.”

“He’s not yours!” Celestine cried out.

“Well, consider yourself warned. He will learn the truth and you can do nothing to prevent it.”

He smiled again, and this time his smile was eerie. Evil.
Celestine didn’t even realize he left her house. She stood, petrified, unable to accept what had just happened. They fought magic and now it came to fight them back.


Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

The Full Moon

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Past comes
When the night is dark
Little memories
You thought you forgot.

Dreams avoid you
Moonlight’s scarce
By your side
Lie shards of past.

But one night
Your window will show
Full moon shining
In full moon glow.

A change indeed
Comes from inside
Strength of wolves
And night vision eyes.

A new you
Now can shine
Moonlit shadows of the past
Disappear in the light.


Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

The Ice Queen

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I have nothing against princesses,
I like the sound of crackling fire,
and I’m very fond of cats,
but it doesn’t mean I don’t see
when injustice is being served.

Why are wolves always hunted
yet you forgive your cats
for killing birds and little mice
and bringing them as gifts?
Why is ice considered cruel
when fire can hurt as well?
Why are queens always evil
and princesses you root for?

I write my own fairy tale,
and I create a powerful queen
a woman needs not be weak
nor act sweet and for rescue wait
if she wants to be a heroine.

So I bestow on her a gift of ice,
ice-cold eyes, a power to create,
she will freeze you if you dare
in a tower lock her up,
she will make you disappear
before your wicked curse is uttered.

A magic mirror in her possession,
but who’s the fairest she doesn’t ask,
she uses it to uncover lies,
to see where’s a need to fight,
defend herself and all she loves,
a crown of ice on head held high.

She runs in the company of wolves,
with them she is always free,
she howls proudly at the moon
and hunts those who deserve it;
little girls that carry baskets
are not always what they seem,
sometimes a poisoned apple
and hidden thorns lie therein.

A queen, not a princess,
powerful and not naïve,
clever and not benign,
her touch so cold that it burns,
but that doesn’t mean she’s cruel.


Image courtesy of Pixabay.com