Vengeance

Every day, upon my favourite rock sits a man upon whom time has begun to tell. He wears rough, torn clothes, and a long coat to keep the winds at bay. I knew him to be a sailor, and a rather good one at that. But now, he is no better than a ghost. 

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Moving, Unmoving

If I could pray to move, I would be moved. But I would not. Hence, no prayers came to move me as I reclined on a rock watching the sea. A girl of astounding beauty had emerged from the water, salt dripping all over her. She glanced at me as if calling me for a…

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The Prayer Wheel

It has been a week since he was promoted to the prestigious position of a scout. There was to be no more of that heavy labour for him that the other worker ants needed to do, day in and day out. However, these seven days had been fruitless for him.

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