Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #133

Today we have our own Sean Platt picking the words. We figured it would be a good idea for him to pick today, considering he just published his first book which you can see in the sidebar. I love books about life, and I know you’ll love this story. I did.

Writing prompts cure writer’s block. Take the 10 random words below and, in the comments, crush writer’s block by creating a cohesive, creative short story tying them together! And remember: after (if) you finish, highlight your words and click the bold button to make them stand out and help you determine if you forgot any words. (If you’ve missed previous writing prompts, do those too.)

  1. Life
  2. Fate
  3. Synchronicity
  4. Flaws
  5. Intertwined
  6. Happenstance
  7. Raw
  8. Nature
  9. Drama
  10. Exodus

NOTE: Don’t copy and paste from MS Word. Use a program like notepad that removes formatting or just type in the comment field itself. Also, finish your submission, THEN bold the words. Thanks. (And don’t forget to tweet this and share it with your friends.)

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Resources you should check out:
Thesis: Best Damn Theme on the Web
Collective Ink Well: Personalize Your Thesis Theme
Third Tribe Marketing: Marketing done the right way
Story Structure Demystified: Best damn writing book out there

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84 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #133”

  1. Shane Arthur says:

    “Billy, what does synchronicity mean?”

    “It mean when events in life and nature seem intertwined wit each other, like it was fate they happened when they done did. Take the other day for example. Remember da raw mountain oyster I ate, the one that still had some oyster hairs attached to it? Well, I needed to floss my tooth so them there hairs came in handy. Dat’s synchronicity.”

    “I see. What about happenstance? What dat mean?”

    “Dat means how a bull stands when they take da mountain oysters from him.”

    Okay, one last one. What does exodus mean?”

    “Dat’s when we goes out to eat at restaurants, raise all kinds of drama when there’s flaws in how they done cooked da mountain oysters, and they exodus out of the place.”

  2. Life, it can really be a silly thing. I find that mine is often intertwined with drama and happenstance. No, I don’t want to say it’s meaningless. Just the raw nature of life itself is harsh. Is it fate? Are we really destined for this? No, and that is just one of the many flaws. There is a steadfast synchronicity between destiny and our will. We can will for some of the worst things in life, but be destined for the greatest, but likewise, we can will for the best things in life, but be destined for the worst. I prefer the middle ground and meeting somewhere in the middle. Lately I have been floating down destiny’s river, but soon I think it will be time to come ashore and walk on dry land for a while. I’ll call it the Exodus With My Will.

  3. Your life is a drama. From Genesis to Exodus, the paths you choose may seem to be intertwined with random roadways, solitary strata and bustling boulevards. Perhaps it is happenstance. Yet, it may also be a choreographed kinetic exercise, constrained by the tenets of fate – a dance to the orderly beat of Nature.

    The infrastructure of the universe, with all its flaws, represents merely the raw skeleton of existence. The cosmos is a framework upon which grow the sisters of substance: Chaos, Serendipity and Synchronicity.

    Your life is a dance whose steps sometimes falter without meaning. If you will just remember to keep time, your feet will find a rhythm, your heart will feel the harmony and your soul will burn bright with purpose.

  4. Anne Wayman says:

    Well darn, this one just poured out of me!
     
     

    Life, fate, the synchronicity of flaws intertwined by seeming happenstance, leaves me raw with nature’s drama, planning an exodus.

  5. Tanja Cilia says:

    Was it   pure synchronicity that intertwined happenstance with the drama of an Exodus? Was it serendipity that caused the raw flaws in nature create to a fate that would lead to a new life in the desert?  Moses grinned.
     

  6. margaret says:

    We are a product of nature, born with promise, raw talents, and character flaws.
    life is intertwined with happenstance and drama, but our fate is determined by
    how we balance our talents and handicaps and make the most of what we have been given.

    If we are to live harmoniously and productively within our environment we must strive to
    make an exodus from negativity. Synchronicity with the universe is a goal and a gift.

  7. Rebecca says:

    Are fate and synchronicity intertwined? What about happenstance? Stephanie wondered this as she sat on the mountaintop in Arizona. She loved being in nature and was able to release the drama of her life. She realized people had flaws but her patience was wearing thin with certain family members. Yesterday she read snippets of The Book of Exodus and wished she could depart from life sometimes. Then again, her emotions were still raw from losing her beloved Thor. He was the best dog and friend she ever had. Maybe she was being overly dramatic.

  8. sefcug says:

    I have used the ten words of the day with the five even in numerical order, followed by five odd in numerical order.

    *****
    The Meaning of Life Debate

    The fate argument was loaded with flawshappenstance by nature would be the more appropriate argument.
     
    An exodus from either, or both, points of view sould occur if everyone involved would just look at life being a bit of synchronicity intertwined with the raw drama of this type of debate.
     
    Moral:

    No argument can be made that is acceptable to all, so just listen to both sides, keeping an open mind, and make your own determination of what best suits your way of thinking.

  9. Chris Fries says:

    First off — Congratulations on the book, Sean!!!  It’s always awesome to see a writer make it to print!

    So here’s my entry — My “Detroit Noir” continues:

    “The Look of Murder — Part 7”

    Standing in Margaret Thurston’s elaborately decorated sitting room, waiting for the cops to leave, I was mentally kicking myself for getting sucked deeper and deeper into this highfalutin family drama.  I could have stayed at my office and not bothered to come over.  I’d done what Margaret had asked; I didn’t need to poke my nose in further.  I could even have scrammed as soon as the cops showed, but instead I’d stupidly decided to stick around. 

    So now, here I was, a huge dope getting more and more intertwined in the life of a woman whose husband had just been killed, with enough money to buy me ten times over, shaking my head as I watched her pompous brother-in law parade around like he was king of the castle.  I guess I could blame it on a couple of flaws in my nature — an unhealthy curiosity on top of a soft spot for gorgeous rich women who I kept picturing in the raw.

    Margaret lounged on the divan, her long legs crossed beneath her, as Lawrence went on about how he would be willing to set aside his grief and step in to take over the reins of Charles’s company, for the good of Margaret and the family.  Behind him, a mousy man sat quietly against the wall.  I hadn’t figured out if he was Lawrence’s servant, business partner, or what; no-one had bothered to introduce him, and he evidently didn’t feel like taking the initiative to do so himself.

    Four policemen still patrolled the house and grounds.  Two of them were local Grosse Pointe cops who’d come to the Thurston home, south of Kercheval, when Margaret had called them after the maid had seen a prowler with a gun, and the other two were Detroit detectives who were working with the State Police on Charles’s murder case; they’d heard the call and come to ‘assist’. 

    Even though it was pretty clear to me that any intruder or prowler that the maid might have seen was long gone, the cops didn’t appear too eager to leave.  Surprisingly, neither Margaret nor Lawrence seemed to mind.  I wondered if Samuel Dotson, the lawyer who had worked with the family and suggested that Margaret hire me to find her missing husband, would approve of giving the cops free rein of the Thurston home.  Probably not when they had an open murder case they were looking to close.

    But Margaret evidently didn’t have anything to hide, and it wasn’t really my worry.  Even though she’d asked me to stay, she rarely looked in my direction while Lawrence prattled on, so I couldn’t read what her thoughts were, but they didn’t seem to involve me.  It didn’t take too long before I’d had enough.  I was going to join the exodus when the cops finally decided to leave the joint. 

    Then Lieutenant Walls, the lead Detroit cop, came in with a small silver canister held lightly in his gloved hand.

    “Mrs. Thurston?” he said, and I could almost taste the smug sense of satisfaction in his voice.  “May I ask what this is?”

    She turned, and I couldn’t see any recognition on her face. “I have no idea, officer,” she said.

    “I found it sitting on the dresser in your bedroom.”

    “My bedroom?”

    “Yeah.  I wanted to make sure the windows were secure.  The prowler might have tried to get in that way.”

    Margaret frowned.  “My bedroom is on the second floor, with no way to climb up from the outside.”

    “Just making sure, ma’am.  Do you recognize it?”

    “No. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen it before.”

    “It’s a film canister, and from the weight, it feels like there’s film inside,” Wells said, with a slight smirk.  “Do you have a camera?”

    “No, although I believe Charles did. He…”  She paused and her face hardened as she realized where that camera had been found.  She stood.  “You don’t think that came from his camera, do you?”

    “We’ll have to see.  But interestingly enough, there appears to be some splotches on it.”  He held it up and pointed with his other hand.  “It looks like blood.”

    Margaret’s face blanched.

    Lawrence spoke up, an irritated huff in his voice.  “What does this have to do with anything?”  He might not have known about the murder weapon.

    Walls ignored him, still focusing on Margaret.  “You don’t know how this came to be in your room?  It just appeared through some sort of happenstance?”

    Margaret held a hand to her mouth. “I… I have no idea.”

    Lawrence moved closer.  “What is this, officer?”

    Walls answered, but held his eyes on Margaret.  “Your brother was killed by being beaten with a heavy, professional camera.  This may be film from that camera.”

    “Oh, this is ridiculous,” Lawrence said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand.  “Surely it’s some other film.  Purely a quirk of synchronicity that a film canister shows up on Margaret’s dresser.  I’m positive that it’s completely unrelated.”

    “Maybe.  We’ll take it downtown and examine it and see if it’s the right size film, and if there are any fingerprints on it, and if what on it is actually blood, and if that blood matches Charles’s blood type, and just what might be on this film.”  The other cops came into the room, with the second detective moving to stand next to Margaret.

    “I’m sure you won’t mind coming along with us while we find out, ma’am,” Walls said as he pocketed the canister.

    Margaret acted like she might faint, and I moved towards her to catch her, but she recovered.  Lawrence gave some bluster of protest, but Margaret only looked downward.  “Of course not.  May I change into something more appropriate?”

    “Sure, you can bring some clothes,” Walls said.  “But I think it would be best if you changed at the station.”

    I looked closer at Margaret’s face.  I didn’t know what her fate would be with the cops, but I trusted my gut.  In spite of that film can, I was pretty sure she hadn’t bumped off her own husband.

    And I was determined to stick my nose in deeper to the family drama to find out for sure.
     

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Chris: It’s impossible not to enjoy this series. And you get extra bonus points for using divan. I have not heard or read that word in years. Isn’t it funny how such cool words fall from ones vocabulary for periods of time?

      • Chris Fries says:

        Thanks, Shane!
         
        For a period piece set in 1949, I gotta try and dredge up all those old words my parents used…  ;^)
         

        • Jackie Root says:

          I can’t wait to read the rest of the book…

          • Chris Fries says:

            Thank you very much for the kind words, Jackie, and I’ll be finishing up the series right here in future CCC prompts.
             
            In the meantime, if you want to read the previous entries to catch up, parts 1-6 are in the last six CCC challenges.
             

    • Chris, you are really going all out with this one. I love how you intertwined the challenge words seamlessly into the narrative. In particular, exodus, raw and happenstance sound like they belong in this period piece.
       
      Cheers,
       
      Mitch
       

      • Chris Fries says:

        Thank you very much, Mitch!  Your support and positive words are always greatly appreciated!
         
        With normal CCC entries, I usually let the prompt words just inspire me to take me where they will, but in this series, I’ve got some definite plot points I’m trying to get to, so I’m more often trying to shoehorn the prompt words into the piece.  I’m glad they’re not sticking out like shiny chrome trim duct-taped onto my rusty jalopy of a story.
         

  10. Ciprian Begu says:

    The spy

    Raw nature. That’s how it all looked like from this side of the hill, looking out all the way North towards the peaks. Not sunny. Not colorful. But joyful nonetheless. The joy of the unexplored forest, brimming with hidden life. And brother  Giorgos’ long treks, every afternoon at two o’clock, with exact synchronicity. And all against the advice of the other monks. They constantly keep warning him of loose brown bears, but he never, never listens! One of these days this will end in one big drama.

    But brother Giorgos’ curiosity always beats his fear. He grew up a celibate monk, all his life among the torched cliffs of Southern Greece’s Mount Athos, dying to go somewhere wild and fresh. At least that’s what people have been saying about him.  And since he finally got to come here at Frasinei Monastery, right at the foot of the Carpathians, in temperate Romania, he is said to be fascinated with the changes in the seasons out here. That’s why he goes on long trips by himself into the backwoods of the monastery, carrying only a crooked, old staff as defense. The bishop from Valcea, who’s often visiting brother Giorgos says he looks like Moses in Exodus. Only nobody wants to follow him for fear of the wildlife. The bishop. Always poking fun at the monks. It’s no happenstance that they all look so cheerful after one of his visits. Or so it’s been said.

    Brother Giorgos walks through the woods with a humble confidence, like a monarch surveying his domain, with an eye for detail that could spot any flaws in the scenery. And, though sporting a fairly disheveled and long beard, ragged monk clothes and a cold demeanor (despite his being Greek and all) brother Giorgos was absolutely beautiful…

    But sister Alina caught herself.

    It was against her vows to think like this. Crossing herself three times, and kissing her holy necklace, she nervously started to come down from the rock at the edge of the bluff, overseeing the back of the men-only monastery. She took one more look at the young monk, starting on his usual exploration tours. Helping himself with his royal staff up the slope, he followed the animal path out of the meadow and into the forest.

    As sister Alina accepted her fate again, she let go of his sight with a sigh. Before she left the edge of the hill, she turned around one more time, and looked across the bluff  at the empty path entering the forest, leaving behind a lonely meadow. With her fingers intertwined, she cried to the Heavens for mercy: “My Lord, I beg you, keep the bears off.”

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Ciprian: That was OUTSTANDING. Welcome back. I can’t believe it’s been 81 challenges and 9 months since I’ve last enjoyed your writing. I sure hope you come back and write much sooner. 🙂

    • Chris Fries says:

      Wonderful scene-setting and characterization.  I love the way you smoothly wove the words into your story!
       

      • Ciprian Begu says:

        Thank you so much guys for your encouragement. I see this site has been brimming with life 🙂 and creativity while I’ve been gone. Hope to be reporting for duty more often.
        Cheers

    • Ciprian, that was an impressive read. Surely the opening chapter to your next novel?
      I could really get into something like this!
       
      So, you’re a CCC original, eh? Glad to meet you!
       
      Cheers,
       
      Mitch
       

  11. Rebecca says:

    @ Shane … Thank you! It was an emotional day for me — I channeled my energy into the piece 🙂

  12. Cathy Miller says:

    We talk of life and fate as if they are linked in synchronicity. Our flaws are intrinsic, our destiny intertwined with happenstance beyond our control. The raw nature of such drama invites the exodus of the human soul.
     

  13. Shane Arthur says:

    programming note: My son is headed for the emergency room. I’ll comment tomorrow when things settle down.

  14. Rebecca says:

    @ Mitch … Thank you!

  15. meek willed says:

    It seemed like fate as I lay intertwined and passionately kiss sue I sore her in a hole new light.
    A light that made her shimmer and shine as if she had no flaws or flats she was everything I had ever wanted… how did i not see it  before.
    When we had finely got off one another we shy away in recognition of how much raw passion for each other and I said “so that’s defiantly a yes to going out with me” she giggled and replied “we must have some synchronicity as I was planing to ask you out” .
    I gave her a slight kiss on the forehand my heart still racing like an F1 car i open  the door  to let some fresh air in which was accompanied by moonlight that by nature or happenstance made it harder to resist  sue’s beauty as the moonlighte twinkled of the end of her lushess long blond hair.
    She picked up my mobile that musts have fallen out of my pocket she passed it to and it said i had missed calls a text from my mum and then i notest the time it was just past eleven  which was weird considering  my normally worried a lot by now I’d of expected her to have call six times and  got a search party looking for me making it into a real drama.
    I opened the text to read “it’s ok i know what’s happening ;)” so now she had those super mum power I’d always suspected she did or something weird was going on and then my attention shot back to sue an i ask “isn’t you dad going to be mad that you out so late, i best walk you back”  she smile nodded letting her out first i got my bag and closed the door behind me.
    We walk back a cross the now not so busy road and passed the abandoned arcade witch was call exodus an it was where some nonentity were writting graffiti on its wall but that’s life.
    We got to her door  and i kissed her again on the lips before ringing the doorbell her dad (a big and fairly hench man) answered  came out to great me with a look that was like car headlights and ow deer I was the buck he was going to hit.

    • Chris Fries says:

      Great scene of young love, but you always have to get the girl home on time!
       
      Big bad mad dads can make a young lad quite sad!  😉
       
      Well done, meek!

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Meek: If father’s could get away with it, they’d probably hit all buck-eyed younsters who know their daughters. 🙂

      • meek willed says:

        @shane: it help if you know and get along with the girls father then thay dont hurt you so much as gust relly try to intimadate you.

  16. Kelly says:

    POSTSCRIPT TO A POSTCARD

    Life’s like this, yeah.

    How did we become intertwined? Do you remember? I certainly don’t. Whether fate or happenstance, here you are, and here I am watching you take off. Not in the sense of exodus, you understand—though I believe you’ve done a bit o’ that as well—no. Less drama, more buoyancy. I see you now taking flight, as I always knew you should.

    It’s been in your nature all along. You only needed to stop seeing the flaws and begin to mold your raw strengths into genius—to stand on ground where you could see the wide plains waiting for the kiss of your wings.

    Well, I can’t trace the series of events that’s kept me, keeping my eye on you. And I’m getting far too mushy about it. (Yeesh!) So call it synchronicity. And a very happy sync, indeed.
     

    Because I told you, Sean. Your words ARE art.

     
    Congratulations. I wish you smiles.

  17. When last we left the story, Jax and Kel had returned to the mysterious building to seek out the answers to their past. By happenstance they found some personal items, including a journal, stashed in a locker. But when they enter a room containing what looks like electrocution chairs, they are intercepted by a horde of the strange floating, glowing waves. Kel manages to flee with the journal, but Jax is cornered and taken prisoner, strapped into one of the chairs. He sees a series of visions – some of himself and some of other people and places. When the last vision fades, he is left staring at the sea of waves.
     
    Foreign Identity
    Part 33
     
    All that he had seen filled Jax’s mind like a boiling concoction. One idea would rise above the rest and then sink back into the mix as a new idea bubbled to the surface. Still bound by the metal cuffs, he sat in the hard metal chair, trying to work out exactly what the visions meant. It was another puzzle. It had to be. The synchronicity of the scenes picked at his brain.
     
    He considered the idea that they were real, depicting events from the past. Some he remembered and others might be from the life he had forgotten. But if that was true, what were the implications of the last set of visions? The teacher depicting the story of Noah’s ark and then his flight through space. Arriving at a barren planet where he’d witnessed the creation of nature and introduction of animal life. If the visions were true, did it mean he was on this newly created world?
     
    “No.” The word came out like a breath, barely audible. “It can’t be true.” He shook his head, denial thick in his mind like pudding, much more palatable than the alternative. He focused on the writhing mass of glowing waves that formed an arc around him like a school of electric eels cornering their prey. The spacing between them diminished as they intertwined and closed around him even tighter. None were touching him, but they formed a dense barrier that made it difficult to see the room beyond.
     
    It can’t be true!” he screamed, his voice raw from lack of use. How long had he been held captive? He had no sense of time. “No. I won’t believe it until I see it.” He set his jaw and stared them down.
     
    At his words, the ribbons flickered like static. A response? An instant later, they separated into two clusters, leaving a wide pathway down the middle. One of the waves broke away from the others, hovering close in front of him in the center of the gap. A loud clink startled him. He looked down to see his restraints fall open, freeing his arms and legs.
     
    He blinked and stared at the single ripple. And then it started to move. Gradually, it floated through the parted sea of waves.
     
    Jax pulled himself upright. His legs felt numb. His right one was asleep. He half walked, half hobbled though the gap, shaking his leg as he went. He halted in front of the door where the lone ripple had stopped. An instant later, it vanished through the door.
     
    He hesitated only an instant before grabbing the handle and wrenching the door open. In the next room, the one with the lockers, the ripple waited for him. At his appearance, it glided toward the other door, once again disappearing into the solid metal surface.
     
    Just as he opened the next door, a sensation hit his stomach. Something told him he was being followed. He whirled around. The rest of the waves were moving now, following him out of the room in a mass exodus. His heart thudded and he turned back to the open doorway. The single ripple awaited him in the corridor.
     
    He stepped into the hall.
     
    His guide continued to flow smoothly through the air in front of him as he trailed after it. It hesitated anytime there was a fork in the path, as if to make sure he went the right way. He glanced over his shoulder a few times, but the sea of waves was still trailing behind. The idea of having his back to that mass filled him with anxiety the same way a gunman breathing down his neck might have. As far as he knew, he wasn’t any better off.
     
    The ripple led him into new territory – this wasn’t the area he and Kel had charted. Instead of approaching the entrance, they seemed to be heading further away from it. Once when they crossed a side passage, he wondered what would happen if he made a run for it. But he wasn’t the runner: Kel was. And he hadn’t been down that path before. He had no idea where it led.
     
    In the middle of the trek, they turned onto a corridor that was pitch black. Jax stopped. The lights from behind were still bright, but little illumination reached the hall ahead of him. An eerie feeling crept over him as he wondered what flaws of the electrical system were responsible for the outage – and then realized the darkness might be by design. He shuddered.
     
    The ripple eased a short way into the blackness and waited. Its faint glow cast strange blue highlights and shadows across the walls, doing nothing to calm his nerves. He glanced over his shoulder once more. The hoard loomed behind him, close by as always. He drew a shaky breath and stepped into the darkness, wondering what fate awaited him.
     
    The ripple, his own personal glow worm chauffer, moved slower now. He was thankful that at least he didn’t have to hurry along to keep up in the darkness. His feet were just two murky black lumps beneath him. Once entering the unlit area, there was no sign of the rest of the population of waves. Either they were waiting back there or they were still trailing him but had doused their lights. Thinking about the latter possibility sent cold chills through his body. He tried to keep his mind on the glow worm.
     
    After what felt like a long time, the ripple stopped. Jax halted, a few paces back. Then, the glowing wave floated to the right wall of the hallway. As the light moved, Jax realized the surface wasn’t a normal wall like all the rest. There was a window. And his sense of direction told him this was the opposite side of the building, where he’d never been.
     
    As he approached, the darkness through the window slowly differentiated from the darkness inside the corridor. When he stepped up to the glass, his mouth dropped open. He put both hands flat against the cold surface, pulling his face in as close as possible. He didn’t stop until his nose was touching, his raspy breathing making condensation on the glass.
     
    Outside, the sky was black. But not the blackness of night. There was no moon, no clouds – no anything except a sea of stars. Beneath the pin-dotted sky lay only one thing: the dusty red surface of a flat, barren planet.
     
    Jax doubled over and heaved, but nothing came out. He gasped several lungfulls of air and came back up. Pounding his fists on the glass, he willed the scene before him to dissolve into a vision, a dream, a nightmare. But he couldn’t blink it away. This wasn’t a vision. He was in full control of his senses and they told him that this was most definitely real.
     
    “No!” He spun back around to face Glow Worm. “Take us back! We don’t want to be here. You have no right to mess with our lives! We aren’t actors in some twisted drama, existing just for your sick enjoyment. Or whatever the reason is that you brought us here. We are real people with real lives!”
     
    At his outburst, the corridor suddenly came to life. A loud buzzing noise surrounded him just as a hundred ripples lit up around him, their brightness illuminating the corridor.
     
    They came at him swiftly this time, no lazy floating. He stumbled backward, flailing his arms as a last desperate attempt to ward them off. They zoomed in and before he knew it, he was getting stung by one after another of them. Current zapped through his body like he’d been tased.
     
    Only one of the ripples remained motionless. As Jax went down, his limbs twitching, he focused on the leader – Glow Worm. There was one lingering question in his mind. A final plea for an answer.
     
    Why?

  18. Jesse says:

    Happenstance – in its optimistic nature – ignored all our raw flaws and intertwined us in this drama called life.
     
    Try as she might, fate could not sustain the magical synchronicity that initially kept us together.
     
    Our timeless agendas deemed that this union would end in a quiet exodus.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Jesse: You packed three times the goodness in that submission that anybody would think was in those three short sentences. More please.

  19. Lydia says:

     I’m a little late on this one. 🙂
     
    ——–
     
    Lily discovered the body halfway through her shift.
     
    In life Mrs. Davis had been a woman rubbed raw by happenstance.
     
    As a young woman she had won a scholarship to study drama and dance, the first person in her family to ever attend college. Three months into her first semester word came from back home: Mother was severely burned while using a kettle later found to have several serious design flaws. The family needed someone to look after her and the younger siblings.
     
    Mrs. Davis moved back home. She met Mr. Davis and married him once the youngest sibling was old enough to look after the home.
     
    Her first child reluctantly inhaled and opened his eyes to the world. Half a day later nature took its course. A daughter met the same fate twelve years later. A third child intertwined his life with her own just when she believed there would be no others.
     
     
    A short time later Lily glanced at the calendar as the coroner and the body wheeled a silent exodus from the four walls Mrs. Davis had known as home for the last year. It was April 12.
     
     
    Synchronicity,” she said to the empty room.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Lydia: That was just super! I could read that several ways. You have to give me more detail about what you were doing here. 🙂

  20. aavi says:

    Reverberation of the partition is still raw in the minds of people when nearly 64 years back, chaos hit the synchronicity of the nation and mass exodus of people moved back and forth.  It’s by the force of habit or mere happenstance that political drama took a nasty course and two intertwined communities went hostile pointing up the flaws of each other. By nature, life goes on but somewhere people do feel their fate was compromised unknowingly.


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