seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Yemen
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Italy
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Qatar
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
Story 3-My Uniform Grew In Size
Story 3-My Uniform Grew In Size
I took out the only blue shorts that I had for school; They seem to have shrunken down over the past two months and faded into the oldness of blue. It has just been a year since dad brought new shorts for me. I measured them placing around my hip. It was way higher that my knees exposing two inches of my untanned dark skin. “Mom, I need a new set of uniforms! They are already shrunken down and…
View On WordPress
Story 2- We are all Just Potatoes
“You are porcelain white and the most beautiful girl in the whole Universe, dear!” My mother impersonated a movie star mother while she lovingly pinched my cheeks, dressed me in the most expensive flowing dress and flaunted me to her whole friend clan. They were all bewitched by my beauty, I could sense!
Yes! It was then, at that tender age of eight, I realized my beauty was my prized possession and as years passed by I dwelled on narcissism. A verbatim of my mother’s praises echoed in my ears every night, I tiltered as I could sense the absolute truth in it! Beauty was all that I had. It could get me whatever I wanted.
A sweet smile bought me two ice-creams instead of one.
I was never punished for my untimely acts.
I was never denied of anything I asked for.
And Everybody wanted me in their groups!They were friends of the prettiest girl!By the time I turned nineteen, I had more attention than any other girl of my age.
In spite of all the advantages, I possessed, something gnawed inside of me. I wasn’t truly happy nor truly satisfied with anything. Even when things literally fell at my feet, I was lost in a world that worshiped my beauty! Some advised me to choose a career in the film industry and much more for modeling. My parents were adamant that I finish my degree first!
But something happened in that first year of my degree! I met a girl who was dead opposite to me and still held the happiness in her smile. She was dark and never wore appropriate dresses nor stylized her hair! But more than anything her skin wasn’t porcelain White!
I completed ignored her existence! Why would I want such a girl in my circle? But as days passed by, I gradually started noticing her more! Somewhere I started liking the dark girl. Everybody in the class just loved her and guys were more open and friendlier towards her and maintained a sophisticated act in front of me! They were never their true form.
But this girl was an epitome of happiness , that contagious smile of hers never left her! Above everything was that sparkle in her eyes that eluded of inner confidence. She rocked the stages with her graceful dance and singing! The travesty of her popularity shook my ground.
Every day I used to contemplate as to why I never had her zeal or smile. Slowly I started to find the faults in me. I was not skilled with anything apart my porcelain skin tone.
I wanted to have a small talk with her and the Cultural fest got me the perfect opportunity.
I skipped our introductions! We were bowing acquaintances.I smiled at her in the empty dance rehearsal room.
“Umm..How are you that happy, like always?” I pretended to study the cracks in the wall not facing her.
“Well, what is not there to be happy about? Everything is great” She turned to me wth a warm smile, graciously accepting my interference with her personal life.
I wondered my reaction to that kind of a talk. I would brashly tell them to leave me alone and brag about my narcissism.
“Well! Look at the mirror” We both faced to the continuous line of the mirrors that helped her rehearse her dances!
“Look at my svelte body, my sensuous appearance, my porcelain skin and you are totally different, your image in those baggy dresses and more than that you are skin-tone,black.”
If I happen to hear myself again, I would have slapped myself! I didn’t mean to come out so harshly at her! But the spoken words were uttered, the damage had already been done. I could feel my ego relaxing!
Her reaction knocked me down as she turned to me with the eyes of pity, gestured me to sit down and warmly held my hands.
“Listen, honey, first of all, I’m not black, nobody I black! I am chocolate brown with a mix of rich honey. Have you heard that dark chocolates are rich and elegant! Secondly, we are all just potatoes!”
I eyed her with confusion…Potatoes?
“All potatoes come in different colors, some light, and some more dark, some are covered with dirt and some more are rotten. But when you peel all of them. There is only one shade of color, the color of the soul. Everybody has their own deals with fear, anxiety, hopes and dreams. outer appearance is just lucked with DNA in humans. Real beauty is what you really are when you are peeled off! So it just doesn’t matter..”
She paused and coaxed me to fill her sentence. I gave her the brightest smile and whispered
“Because we are all just potatoes!”
Her heresy caught me and stridently pulled me to her side! My heart was strangely at peace:)
Psst: We are closest buddies now!
Given Story Prompt
Protagonist Strength- Accepting and realizing one’s mistake
Protagonist Weakness- Narcissistic
Plot 1- Make True Friends
Plot 2- Take on racism
Author:Brunda
Website: Brewing Words
And God Still Remains Anonymous
There is a deep growl in my stomach, hungry from several days; I touch the thin faded fabric of my cloth that is loosely hanging over my thin frame. The night winds are wild and cold, I snuggle myself into the thin blanket that barely covered my feet. I felt the cold wall beside me, with no sleep and hunger games playing in my stomach, I trace random figures on the wall with the toenails, a scrap of the wall’s paint powders on my feet. I sigh at my plight as I turn over to my left; the black blanket had holes partly showing my elbows and my nose. It is freezing cold; shivering till my teeth chattered I look down at the floor. It is made of cement; my mother is asleep there, with her forehead etched with permanent marks of worry.
I bit my nails in an attempt to ward off the deep sense of guilt in me. I am seventeen and I could do a lot more than to stay here looking at the torn ends of the saree that my mother promptly ties into a knot. There are deep grumbling sounds of the stray dogs that are about to fight for the garbage cans down the alley and I am astonished as that is the only sound that reaches my alert ears. I had been in an accident a few years ago, that had my spinal cord broken and my life ripped apart in poverty. My mother never fails to thank the old god who sits with a permanent smile inside the muddied calendar paper hung over the umbrella nail. She smiles that I am still alive and thanks me for staying alive as well.
It is heart wrenching to see her slog all day long, her once smooth hands have now turned dry and calloused, and sometimes traces of dried tears carve her dusty face. She is a worker in a nearby site. She slogs every day for my food and meagre money that she saves for my treatment! Spinal injury is a blow to our already suppressed and wretched life.
There are times when I think of slicing a knife through the thin vein that beats so very slowly, so very slowly that it invites me over for a cut, meddles with my dreams and finally criticizes me for the disabled that I am! I decide to listen to the numerous mosquitoes hovering over me, they are noisy, the clatter that my head is loaded with; the mosquitoes adds an ounce to it. I clap my hands in frustration, they sting me on my elbows and my feet, the only places that they find exposed, but some others made their way into my neck through the open holes.
It’s another gruesome night of my entire life, would this ever change, would I ever be able to walk again? Would I ever see the smile on her face instead of the brimming tears?
“Anantha! Are you awake son?” My mother murmured in an undertone.
“No Ma, slipping off to sleep now, you get back to sleep” I removed the blanket that covered my face.
She turned her tip of the saree into a fan and started to whoosh away the flying stinging insects.
I held her thin wrists and held it close to my heart while tears started to flow down drenching her palms.
“Oh, what is there to cry, my baby! “ She wiped my face clean and sung me a lullaby
Her voice soothing, taking me to a world of happiness and euphoria, though the feelings are ephemeral, I was in a happy place. She is the only gem I possess.
“I’ll be back in a moment” She leaves my clutch and races outside, a strong blow of wind enters the tiny hut threatening a fall. She returns with a large palm leaf with which our roof was made of. She then covered me in it!
“There, that will keep you warm” She gives the brightest smile. She finds her happiness around me.
I barely sit up and hug her; I would be dead on the streets like a destitute if not for her!
I wish I had a cleaner, warmer, nicer place to live in. My stomach grumbles again and my mother gets me some water and the soup of the leftover rice, it is warm but there would be none left for her to eat tomorrow. Should I thank her, should I apologise to her?
I hug her instead and she sings me to sleep!
I wait for a miracle! She believes in them!
The next morning there is a knock on the door; people in white swarmed my tiny hut. I thought I was dead and that I was in paradise. But soon the blurry visions turned so bright and real.
“We are here from a medical camp” They helped me to sit up and checked my mother’s pulse.
It was all too fast and surreal; they had heard of me from the co-workers, they had come for me. It was initiated by an anonymous person who took my expense and so for the other little girl down the lane who was blind.
“A miracle at last” my mother exclaims and folds her palms to a silent prayer!
——————————————————————-
Far away, in a huge mansion, on the swirling chair, an old politician smiled with sinister eyes!
“Disclose the anonymity after the treatment is successful! Give the media the push to the unfortunate houses” He plans his strategy!
“You will be the new God Sir” The politician’s secretary giggled.
“Of course! The new plan has to work! I give them a life, I turn their destinies and then I throw them out of their own houses” He smirked.
Later that evening, he slipped from the stairs and hurt his head to a sharp stone; the media reported the untimely death of the politician.
Anatha regains his ability to walk and the girl down the lane sees sunshine.
And God still remains Anonymous.
Author’s Note
This Post is taken from Brewing Words taken from the author’s blog, this story is an excerpt from the reality she saw on her trip and a mix of reality!
Get your story out into a fictional outlet and share it with the world.
We Tell Your Story To the World
A Protagonist is one of the major characters or leading characters in a movie or a novel. Be one by sharing your stories briefly as we add a twist to your personal story. A bit of reality and a bit of fiction!
We all have a story to tell, we all face our lashing tides and rainbow days but it never gets a chance to actually tell the world about it! You might be a reader, a writer, a student, a homemaker, a busy dad, a corporate nerd, an agent, a CEO, a dreamer, a banker, a doctor, a poet and so on!
Irrespective of who are! You are the main character in our YOUR stories! You will have a fictional world that is partly revolving around your real life, so we want your story!
Submission Guidelines:
For Non-Writers and Storytellers
We would love to hear your story. So mail us at [email protected]
Limit your story to 300 words! Minimum is four lines or in key points that you would want us to mention in your story.The key points of your story must include the character strengths and weaknesses! We will add your given plot and an extra fictional plot to it!
We are then going to weave a story around your key points. We will add some fictional characters and fictional scenarios and turn your story into a beautiful one or sometimes the genre you prefer!
Click here to know about the Genres We Write for you!
4.We then publish those on our blog and have you read!The choice of having your name published along with your story is completely your decision.
6.If you decide to go anonymous, we would publish your stories under the name of the fictional pseudo name you want for yourself
For Writers and Bloggers
Visit https://betheprotagonist.wordpress.com/2016/07/17/submission-guidelines/
7.Kindly share your stories on your social media and put in a good word for “Be The Protagonist”
Be Our Inspiration!
