This is Submission FIFTEEN of The Whiskey Words. The Whiskey Words is a writing project (and a giveaway). The winner will be announced on 1st of April.
Chaos, disturbance, and disharmony,
Is not the balance of Mother Nature.
Just another creature,
A part of nature.
Power, injustice and failure,
A magnificent lure,
Development is well-being,
Or is it?
What’s hiding underneath.
Peeling away layers,
Underneath the sheath,
Of a sword.
“It’s double-edged”, he said.
Of slicing through one layer,
while tearing me inside.
Hey, I am just a rookie slayer,
In a world full of chaos.
– Ovee Thorat
“Humans are fragile creatures made up of broken hearts and broken promises.” – Unknown
The water at the end of the dessert. That is what a promise is made of. It’s not real.
- Young Rue thought that Santa would send a present this year too. She had been a good girl. She had been nice to every one, and had done all her work. Every year she waited for a box wrapped in red paper with a small paper that read “As promised.” She had a deal with Santa. She had promised to be a good girl, and in return he had promised to bring her some of her favorite chocolates and new toys. She ran out of her room as soon as she woke up, but found no presents. Had she not been a good girl, or was Santa biased against orphans?
- Rue learned about how words could be carved into promises as she grew older. But she believed in people anyway. When he promised to be there for her every time she shattered into pieces, she smiled. She knew he would. But when everything around her crumbled, her life was a mess like the mascara flowing down her cheek, and she was drowning log in the high tide, he vanished like the sun on a winter day. Another empty promise, another broken heart, another normal day.
- With time, her words lost their meaning. She stopped believing, and forgot to keep her promises. She handed out assurances and promises like a pack of color pencils that would make your life colorful. But only while it lasted. And then she failed to do what she said, show what she meant, and be what she wanted. The colors ran out, and the pack was empty. A hole in her heart was yearning for someone to remind her what promises really are. Yearning for someone to make her believe.
- On a summer morning, she found the person looking at her through a dirty mirror. Brown eyes and dark hair with a new pack of color pencils in her hand.
Empty promises will break you. But you’ll always have at least one person who can love you. Be your own pack of color pencils. Look for the sword.
“She wasn’t waiting for a knight. She was waiting for a sword.” – Atticus
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