That Golden Girl…

sue-vincent-prompt

 

That Golden Girl…

In a crystal clear pond full of ducks, there once lived a golden swan. The pond was called Paani, and Goldie was the name of the swan. The names were of course given by some human mind.

Born so different, Goldie was the only one of her kind. Envied by fellow females. Chased by fellow nasty males. Towards her, not many were kind.

Humans would take her pictures. But some would also pelt her with stones, to see how she reacted when in pain. But she never whined.

She avoided them all. She stayed to herself. But soon lonesome became her ride. Paying the price of being different, she could never find a mate. No family. No baby cygnets. No tribe.

One day she decided to paddle on to another pond, all in her desperate attempt to find another one of her kind. But there was none. Never was.

….

For the inmates of the new pond were no different. There were no golden ducks in the new pond, only those who were either black or white. They too could not bear Goldie’s deviance, golden and bright.

They isolated her. They accused her of stealing their share of food. For days she got nothing to eat. She felt like an alien. Like a fish out of her pond. Which of course she anyway was.

She left that pond too. Soon she lost her way. Thereafter no one ever saw her again.

The guys back at Paani, were full of remorse. For they had lost their golden girl, due to their own narrow mean mind.

They could clearly see now their Goldie was rather a class apart. She deserved to be Paani’s pride. She was the only one of her kind.

….

Long time has lapsed since Goldie has been gone. There are rumors around Paani, that every night a golden duck can be seen around.

Not seen by everyone though. Can be seen only by the fortunate few. In fact only by the unfortunate lonesome few. The wronged, the forbidden and the hidden, who dare to venture out only at night.

Seeing Goldie is indeed a sight! Quacking. Gliding. Paddling. All by herself. When the whole world sleeps, when no one would see her or judge her, she comes out from nowhere to have a good time.

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Today, the above photo, that I must have seen while scrolling down the Reader, came into my mind from nowhere. The above weird tale built on…though I absolutely forgot where I had seen this picture.
Of course l discovered just in time, that it was #writephoto prompt by Sue Vincent and I could use it here. Thanks Sue for igniting this strange poetic-story!

First Journey

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First Journey


Oh! It’s all so scary. Save me God! Please. I can’t bear this ordeal. 
I am happy where I am. Why do they want to take me out?

Now they’re pulling my head with something. It hurts badly. Please let go!

They think they should help me. That I’m stuck inside, drenched in fluids and darkness all around me.

No!! I don’t ever feel sad in here. Never did. That’s my small home. Only mine. My mom’s womb. I feel very safe here. I get food. I feel warm and hugged.   

I again feel like crying. I fear so much. Where are they taking me? Such bright light! Strange sounds I can very faintly hear! What would it be like on the other end? Help me God! Don’t take me away from my mom! I will die. 

©Alka 2016

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Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers that is hosted by Priceless Joy, and inspired by this week’s above photo prompt.

It/he/she will not die, as that is what we call ‘life’.
Is this piece a bit exaggerated? Probably 🙂  Who knows what birthing bubs feel! May be some discomfort as their senses are not fully developed yet.

A Writer’s Heart…

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sue-vincent-chest

A Writer’s Heart

Choked with endless jumbled thoughts
This heart, ancient and weary
Like some stored chest of treasures
Somewhat worn, beyond its prime
Yet not worn out and passe.

Carries a lot of weight, of 
Experiences and wisdom galore
Hidden in its pit, secret stories
Of precious moments gone by
Either well-lived or idly whiled
Joys achieved, some denied

Overloaded and bursting now
The crammed chest of heart
Must now be unlocked, with
Magical keys of words, words 
And yet more words

A writer’s heart is indeed
A valuable treasure box
Unlatch its rusty door
Let the lock stifle it no more 
Let the inner voice flow out, to
Set free the riotous thoughts

© 2016 Alka Girdhar

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That was my response to this week’s photo prompt for Sue Vincent’s writephoto:

“A battered, iron-bound chest…Where did it come from? What does it hold…why does it need three keys to unlock its secrets…and where are they now?”

Deep Wall of China

The Great Wall of China depicts depth in all possible forms.  And of course it is a brick wall so long that it tells a story about ancient times, about the people of China.

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The Great Wall of China runs far and wide across a large sprawling mountainous terrain, and so the pictures taken by us depict depth in all its facets. There is linear as well as horizontal depth in all these pictures.

Firstly, any mountain region has its own vertical depth. Then this wall seems to go deep and deep into the mountain horizontally. Moreover this depth varies with the rise and fall of the wall.

The fog adds to the depth as it makes us sense that there is something yonder…beyond the horizon…not visible but definitely there.

Life is also ‘deep’ and meandering like that. And like in life, communities from all over the world converge and connect here with each other and with nature.

~~~

The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: Depth and Converge.  I have also added this to Photo Challenge Wall and Connected

Alka Girdhar.
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