colors

DAY 30 OF MY CREATIVE WRITING JOURNEY. THE PROMPT WAS TO CONTINUE WRITING AFTER THE SENTENCE ENDS “why does the color of my…”

“Why does the color of my skin matter less than yours?” asked Roe to her friend Edger.

There was not any emotion on her face. She did not look sad, angry or frustrated.

Her eyes looked like the surface of a calm lake which fails us in sensing its depth.

She uttered this line as if she was talking about a pizza slice.

“It is sad but true. And it is not just color, the texture of your voice, your entire existence matters less than a white person’s. The word of a white man values more than a person of color. And it would remain so for coming decades.” Replied Edgar.

“I know,” responded Roe.

“But we can’t let it remain the fact,” added Edgar.

PS – This is the 30th day of my journey to write everyday for next one year.

a resignation letter

_{DAY 18 OF MY CREATIVE WRITING JOURNEY. THE PROMPT WAS to continue writing after the sentence ends ‘“why do people behave like they have no spine…,” she asked herself.’}

“Why do people behave like they have no spine?” she asked herself.

It was not new for her to ponder over such questions while coming back from work.

Maybe it was the naivety of her to think that there are people who still value truthfulness, honesty and doing the right thing.

She was known for finding a middle path even with people she considered workplace vampires.

It was her way of living until the day her company announced mass layoffs.

It was a total bloodbath. More than 3500 were asked to leave. People were packing up their things, crying internally, pleading their managers to give them one chance.

Some even asked to keep them on job at only 50% of their salary. Yet, it was a call that came from above.

She was not asked to leave that day. She should have been feeling lucky that day but she was questioning herself.

Sitting in her office, she asked herself, “Am I like this wooden table with no power whatsoever to do something for the injustice faced by her colleagues?”

“Well, I can’t do anything…,” she replied to herself.

“Really?” She questioned herself.

“No, I can’t work with reptiles.” she told herself and emailed her resignation.

PS – This is the 18th day of my journey to write everyday for next one year.

an old church

_{DAY 17 OF MY CREATIVE WRITING JOURNEY. THE PROMPT WAS TO CONTINUE WRITING AFTER THE SENTENCE ENDS “She was cycling through an isolated field and stumbled upon an old structure behind the bushes…}“

“She was cycling through an isolated field and stumbled upon an old structure behind the bushes.

She found it intriguing since there were no signs of human habitation for miles in any direction.

She was cycling from Britain to Portugal, when she came across this structure.

She dismounted from her bicycle, examined the structure closely and moved ahead to take a better look.

It was a church made of wood and reclaimed by surrounding forest.

Some wild vines had twisted its wooden walls, causing them to warp and bend over time, resembling twisted paper sheets.

The vines had also penetrated its roof, and the floor was now claimed by young roots.

here was a cross on the front wall, still untouched by vines. It looked somehow different from any cross she had seen before.

Vines and leaves adorned the cross, prompting her to reach out and touch it.

“But as she touched the rough surface of the cross, she was transported to a world where there were a lot of vines, wild flowers, and a grand image of the cross hanging high in the sky. It had designs of vines and leaves, she saw before.

“But there was one more design. And it was of her own.”

PS – This is the 17th day of my journey to write everyday for next one year.

the white robe

_{DAY 16 OF MY CREATIVE WRITING JOURNEY. THE PROMPT WAS TO “CONTINUE WRITING AFTER THE SENTENCE ENDS “SHE APPROACHED THE UNFAMILIAR DOOR AND NERVOUSLY TOOK THE KEY FROM HER POCKET. SHE TOOK A DEEP BREATH, UNLOCKED THE DOOR, PAUSED, THEN OPENED IT. TO HER HORROR SHE SAW…”}

She approached the unfamiliar door and nervously took the key from her pocket.

She took a deep breath, unlocked the door, paused, then opened it.

To her horror, she saw something, she never expected in her ancestral home. It was a white colored robe.

There wasn’t much light in the room. She kept moving clearing spiderwebs ahead of her.
Soon, she was right next to the robe.

There were some old books, an old spectacle with perfectly curved arms, a brown colored hat, and a walking stick. There was a thick layer of dust on these items as if they haven’t been touched for a century.

She looked at these things closely but what caught her attention was the symbol on the right side of the robe!

It was circular in shape. The center of it had a plus sign with a brown background.
She touched the symbol. It wasn’t painted but embroidered on the cloth with a rich thread. It was a fine work.

Belonging to a family of liberal democrats, she knew the meaning of this symbol and the robe.

There were some stories that some notable history figures of American politics were secretly members of the Klan.

The thought that one of her forefathers could have been among them shook her to the core.

PS – This is the 16th day of my journey to write everyday for next one year.