The nameless yellow-flowered tree

When Summer combs her golden locks

And lets a strand fall,

It reaches the earth and seeds

The nameless yellow-flowered tree.

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Dreamcatcher

Tara had a psychic ability which was rare in Kliona. She was a dreambender. She could change people’s dreams for better or worse. But one day, a gentlemanly centaur came to her with an unusual request.

“I want you to merge my dream with reality, Miss Oneiro.”

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The Dark Half

This week, I’ve decided to do a flash fiction challenge. It’s created by the amazingly creative Chuck Wendig, who’s asked us to put a spin on titles of Stephen King’s books. Now, I absolutely adore Mr. King, so of course I jumped at this challenge. What we basically have to do is steal the title, but not the story. His title, my story. Without further ado, let’s grab a snack and get into it.

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Sunshine Blogger Award

In the words of Janice, Oh. My. God.

I’ve been nominated by not one, but two bloggers for this award. Two. Yes. The number that comes after one. Two. 

Okay, enough over-reacting. Many thanks to my cheerful and chirpy friend Sai Deepti and my most recent trouvaille Tales of Suchita for nominating me for this award. Sai writes beautiful poetry and Suchita mostly writes short stories, but she also pens poems, anecdotes and book reviews. Basically, both of them have wonderful blogs and you should check them out. So, let’s get into the post.

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Papercraft Arsenal

The new boy liked making little origami weapons- swords, spears, axes- and leaving them on his desk for the next class to find. Aaron Privet was the one who found them this time. Ignoring Mr Doyle’s droning voice going on in the background, he examined the tiny war-instruments with a childlike fascination. When the other kids found them, they usually crushed and threw them away or played with them for a few minutes before becoming bored and flinging them in the dustbin.

But not Aaron. The delicate intricacy with which they’d been fashioned surprised him. He wondered how anyone’s hands could be so deft and clever.

“Mr Privet!”

Aaron hurriedly stuffed them in his pocket as Mr Doyle’s voice, like an arrow, shot straight at him.

“Where’s your attention, Mr Privet?”

“On- on the lesson, Sir.”

“Then get up, Mr Privet, and tell me, what is tan-squared-theta plus one?”

Aaron took a blind shot. “Um… sin-squared-theta?” He hoped it would be correct. Turned out, it wasn’t.

“Everybody, clap for Mr Privet, please!” The class didn’t oblige. It knew what was coming.

“I want fifty problems of trigonometry solved in your notebook by the end of the day, Mr Privet.”

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