Mistake- Six Word Story Prompt (6WSP) #81

Shweta Suresh is the host of Saturday Six Word Story Prompt (6WSP). This post is in response to her Prompt #81– Mistake. Mistake Every tripping stone made a step.

Awaiting her monsoon…

She sat by the window, with a glass of whiskey in hand and a mind blank, watching the rain pour, through the window of her study. The violent downpour, with just enough thunder to lightly rattle the window-sills, kept her from drowning herself in books. As she watched the rain drops dribble along the window…

Drifting soul

Butterflies long gone A stint of swarming flies An open grave With an empty casket No dead flowers or any rotten flesh Should have buried everything When there was still a chance It’s too late now Slowly rotted, then eaten away Not a bite left behind Yet there exists a wisp of soul Floating away…

First Kiss

The high you feel in love has no equivalence to any substance. Those feelings between that of an affable affection and intense, fiery passion possess a warmth that softens the coldest of hearts. Who is she to stand a chance against such adorations? She was mesmerized by his brown eyes. Her breath caught every time…

Casualty

There was not any calm after the storm Only a night following every daylight Each morning dimmed a little more Each night turned a little darker Sleep ended but not the nightmares No more hopes in dreams No more dreams in fantasies Only variants of ghosts Some less scarier than the rest Devised by reality…

Echoes

Happy words, pretty words and Everything cheery Deftly tossed asidePerhaps had the ink dried Before the writing vanished A sliver of hope, here be,To avert their evanescence Now it’s too late, for they areDispersed and dissipated As ash on a riverbank No trace of them anywhere Not a bit of burnt scent left Nor a…

Cross over

I had hoped to make it through Sand blasting into my eyes Wheezing and aching through the storm Across the the smouldering wreck To live past distress when all is done I had hoped to make it through Another day, another night Tossing and turning every wakeful hour Pulling out of the pit of hell…

Turmoil

Not knowing what to do because you cannot decide between what you want and what you should want. Not understanding that mixture of swirling dark clouds in the wide, blue sky. Or those sunflowers blossoming in the rain either. Nothing makes sense even though everything is clearly perceived.