Breaking the Spell

Although she tried, the water slipped down her palms and she could never wake him up from his sub-conscious state. Inside, deep down, in the core of his sub-conscious, she lived. She tried. The water kept slipping. Everytime.

She would never leave him alone.

Destiny’s Thread

I used to live by the darkened road that led to the enchanted destinies of a fellow who was lost like a long awaited letter from my lover melting into the storm cutting its way into an alien land where the people who used to stay feeling afraid of the gathering storm and reading the first signs of their doom had decided to flee on the first car they could remember seeing which was actually a mailman’s van from which they emptied all their letters to find enough leg-space for making their longest journey comfortable never thinking for once how lost the mailman would feel when he wouldn’t be able to deliver their loved ones’ words to the people who waited like the man who stayed on the darkened road whose curse it was addressed to those who were responsible for his lover’s letter not reaching him that would ensure that their doom become inescapable on the very day they were fleeing from the storm…..

Forehead

He wore his fears on his forehead. Engraved inside his skull. The solitary existence of an introvert leader and a fool. On a sun-filled day she accepted a flower from his hands.

Ever since, he wore his fears on her forehead.