A collection of flash fiction.
A string of daily mundane stories, wreathed with words and a lot of compassion.
[Some of these short stories have been recognised by various literary organisations.]
Each night, he fell asleep facing towards the window. The moonbeam would bring him warmth, and a pleasant sense of intimacy with the world beyond. By day, his grey eyes would squint with the brilliance of the sun as his hands shook those bars with longing.
Stars were like old friends to the prisoner. Some days, he even felt like touching them; but, his hands were never thin enough to squeeze through these narrow bars.
His slate was full of regretful scribbles:
If you came down
And cradled this dark being;
Oh star, Oh star,
To you would I sing!
When Pneumonia came as a silver lining behind the four numb walls, he was mildly relieved. Finally, he would be a star. His only regret was that he had never been able to shine like one. Forty years in this timeless place had been an eternity to think. Think, is all he did.
One final time, he thought of doing something more worthwhile than robbing banks and killing dreams.
While signing the organ donation papers, he sent a silent prayer towards the stellar beings he wished to join, 'May my eyes see star light again'.
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