# 6. Forging connections

This post is in response to the Incredible Blogger Marathon Challenge hosted by Its PH, a challenge that I believe all you bloggers out there must try your hand at. Give it a go, guys! 

This is the sixth of ten challenges.

In,
search of skin,
color no matter,
brighter or darker,
tell no one,
I will take someone,
Ssssshhhhh!
–  ghost, me!

 

His daughter was a pleasant child of eight. One of her curious habits included picking up some random sets of words and stitching together poems that made little sense

But perhaps that was a sentiment felt by him alone, for his wife applauded their daughter’s efforts to make sense of life in her own way.

His daughter seemed to enjoy herself thoroughly, for the words were often those she had learned lately and she took pride in her abilities to recollect them in songs.

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# 5. Stitching a Story

This post is in response to the Incredible Blogger Marathon Challenge hosted by Its PH, a challenge that I believe all you bloggers out there must try your hand at. Give it a go, guys!

And now for my story, the fifth of ten challenges. This turned out longer than I expected; I believe I’ve found in me a love for stitches and knits!

Earth

* * *

They called her the wisest of them all. She wondered whether they still would, if they found out how much the agonized cries of the deer they slaughtered clawed at her heart. Or whether they would bow and fall at her feet when she declared that the trees be left to themselves, for they wept tears of blood when their kin was cut down.

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# 3. Random Ramblings

This post is in response to the Incredible Blogger Marathon Challenge hosted by Its PH, a challenge that I believe all you bloggers out there must try your hand at. Give it a go, guys!

And now for my story, the third of ten challenges.

Perfectionists shall inherit the earth, because winter is coming.

The mangoes looked so delicious this summer that I was jealous of the birds who got to them first.

The birth of dragons was followed by a long yawn, and he knew his show marathon would have to happen on another night.

There’s lots of fish in the sea, besides molluscs and crustaceans and other creatures that you know nothing about.

Friends can be family and family can be friends; you can be you.

Many years later, the light faded and the shadows vanished, and the true stars shone in the ink-black sky.

The garden was alive and breathing – even the flowers talked to each other.

May I be allowed to present a preposterous case of purging of my refrigerator contents?

There’s ice and fire, wind and water – then there’s George RR Martin and J K Rowling.

Would that I could make sense of my sentences, I might have crowned myself in glorious victory.

Lost – A True Story

I had once been open in my distrust of the world and the people in it. But as I’d mentioned in my previous post, my dorm life served to erase a lot of that mistrust, leaving me with only a healthy measure of caution.

The world is full of surprises, I rediscovered as I listened to two of my friends narrate their experience of being lost in a strange city. They were part of a group of seven, part of a larger group of 40 from my college who had left for a training program at Bangalore, one of India’s largest metropolitan cities.

[Posted with permission from my beloved story tellers.]

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