A blank white screen,
Stands staring at my face.
Lay scattered on a black platter,
In front of my eyes,
Emotions unlock my mind,
And set my fingers on motion.
A new story is created,
A writer’s lifeline.
It’s an honour to announce the editor’s picks for GiaB’s fortnightly prompt #10: Personal Technology.
Every fortnight, Victor Sarkin’s unique writing prompt arrives to extract the creative juices of amazing and talented GiaB writers. …
The architects of
The magnificent castles
Of the sea — Corals
The majestic inhabitants of the ocean world are truly a source of inspiration for writers. The prompt #9: Marine Life had inspired some awesome creations from our wonderful GiaB writers.
It’s an honour to announce the editor’s picks for Victor’s fortnightly prompt #9: Marine Life. As always, it was not an easy job.
Here we go. The much awaited editor’s picks —
Every fortnight, Victor Sarkin’s…
Rising and falling
of waves —
Hues of blue
kissed by the amber rays of sunlight—
Her smooth, glowing skin
and melodious breeze —
Her mesmerizing voice
marshmallow foams —
Her salty kisses
The unexplored depth —
Her dark secrets
Blackness at night —
Her soothing silence
Her unpredictable rage
All marine inhabitants —
Her priceless children
Ocean has life
Please save her.
Man is mortal
yet his quest for a long life
We all age. Whether we like it or not, we will chronologically age by every passing second. Because time doesn’t freeze, but runs. We can’t stop it or even slow it down a bit.
However, time can only determine the man’s chronological age, not his biological age.
Chronological age is defined as the age of an individual, which can be measured from the time of birth to the given date or the time of death, in days, months, and years.
A simple detail like the date…
We returned to our hotel room,
After a long journey,
I was exhausted, so was he.
The weather was cold,
He needed warmth.
He carried me in his bare brawny arms,
To the soft, comfy bed,
And gently lay me down.
He wasted no time to undress,
Keeping me watch,
He removed his tops, then his pants.
He then hurriedly unzipped me,
And removed his towel.
He rushed to the bathroom,
To take a hot shower.
Leaving me alone and open.
I would like to bring to your kind notice a golden opportunity to win plenty of prizes at an event organised by Writers Helping Writers community: The Advent Calendar for Writers.
You may wonder what it is an Advent Calendar for Writers?
Well! This is what they say in their website —
You know those Advent Calendars with delicious chocolate behind each window, counting down to Christmas? Well, it’s like that, only cooler. MUCH COOLER.
Indeed! It’s super cool, if you check in there and see what is in store.
REAL CHRISTMAS GIFTS
For 14 consecutive days…
“I live in a cottage in the deep woods. Come over for dinner, but not before 9 pm sharp,” an invitation too difficult to resist for a thirty-three-year-old bachelor.
Evan’s old car bumped down the gravel, screeching to a halt.
He looked at his watch.
Twenty minutes to nine.
He couldn’t wait to see his attractive hitch-hiker who he met only a few hours ago. His burning desires melted down his patience.
The cottage stood there, tall, lonely, dark, and quiet. Its door, wide-open, beckoned him in.
Evan stepped inside.
The door swelled, roared, and disappeared.
I would rather wear a priceless soul,
Weaved with the threads of compassion,
Kindness and love,
Than an expensive apparel,
That would soon be worn out and gone.
It’s time to show lots of love and support for the much awaited and outstanding editor’s pick stories for our fortnightly GiaB prompt # 8: Apparel.
Every fortnight, Victor Sarkin’s unique writing prompt arrives…
Karen’s feverish body radiated heat like the burning charcoal in the tannour. Her barking coughs threatened to rip out her throat into pieces. She inhaled in short, quick gasps, desperate to revive her collapsed air sacs.
She welcomed the deadly virus, not wearing her mask.
Now. No escape.
Check out the original prompt here —
She pricked my finger to feed on a drop of blood.
I killed her in a fit of rage.
Now I suffer from malaria, dengue, chikungunya, yellow fever, filariasis, encephalitis, tularemia, dirofilariasis, Ross River fever, Barmah Forest fever, Zika fever, and Rift Valley fever.
Her grief-stricken family sought their revenge.
The original prompt link —