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It’s been a while since I last posted here. 2012 is half over, it’s scary how time flies. I’ve not done half the things I wanted to. But there’s only me to blame. I’ve been so lazy. Anyway, this is something I wrote some time ago, as sort of like an experiment to describe an object, i think it was a flower —

Her eyelids flickered as the first rays of the morning sun glimmered upon her. Lazily, she woke to greet the new day, shedding off the morning dew, now sparkling on her purplish skin. Like other women spending hours by the mirror, perfecting every wrinkle, every crease, she watched her reflection on the calm lake upon where she stood, as she adjusted the pleats of the sleeves of her purple gown; her petals now in bloom making it ever more picturesque. She nodded at her friends; the weariness of yesterday seen no more in them. Everywhere she looked, calmness greeted her. Oh, what it was like to grow up in this beautiful forest under the shades of trees, free from the axe of the man. As hours passed by, the heat of the sun bore down on her. Her day was eventful. She had watched the Black Kitten chase Big Monkey, and laughed till her sides ached. She had flapped at the flies who rested on her and listened to the songs of the Koel bird. She had blushed when a gush of wind had nearly swept Big Oak towards her. He was the most handsome of trees, and everyone said he had a thing for her.

As evening drew, however, she was tired and sleepy. She was about to curl up in bed, when, out of nowhere she heard a gleeful voice. “Mama look! It’s beautiful.” It was a girl, no it was a boy. She panicked. This wasn’t pleasant. Splash, splash… before she knew it, blots of water were thrown at her. She listened with fear to the hurrying thump of the boy. She let out a cry as she felt his gigantic hand on her body. She begged her to let him be. She heard Big Oak cry out, his hands reaching out to her. But, there was no gust of wind to steer him to her this time. She wriggled, but ‘chakas’… she was snatched from where she stood… And as tears filled her eyes, the same gleeful voice filled the air, as the little boy danced along merrily, waving her for all to see… she an ornament, not a being.

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