Last year in December, I gathered my courage and dived into this amazing and exciting world of blogging! I decided to publish the chapters from a story I wrote three years ago.
For me, the blog was just an escape! Honestly speaking, I could have never imagined the kind of response that the story received and since then, the journey has been nothing but magical!
Because of the lovely support from all of you, the ‘writer inside me’ got the opportunity to venture into the realms of poetry and I found my home there!
This blog and all the lovely people who have joined me here in the community, mean a lot to me! “From the quill” changed everything and it is the best thing that has ever happened in my life till now!
But, with all the bittersweet emotions in my heart *cue emotional music*, I have decided to leave that title behind and change the name of my beautiful baby *self-obsessed mom* *hehe* to “Life in yellows”
You don’t have to follow or subscribe again! It’s just a change in the domain name and the aesthetic of the blog! You will keep on receiving notifications regarding new posts and the content will still be literary and poetic!!
I am so happy to have you along on this wonderful journey! Your love and support mean the world to me!
So, without further ado, let us begin with the new chapter!
Click here to read chapter-1
I was sitting in a rocking chair with a pen and diary in my hand. It creaked as I rocked it back and forth. The room was silent and had a dim oil lamp which accented its decor with a beautiful yellow. The room was silent, but my mind was not! In my mind, there was nothing but chaos, uninvited noises and fear. Chaos because of all the time that I had wasted, noises of taunts that came from unmotivated mouths and fear of failure. I sat there silent and allowed my pen to run on the paper, to run far away from whatever I was experiencing.
The last drop of the oil in the lamp crackled as its soul rose up, burning with a bright yellow flame. The insects stayed there, being silent spectators to the departure of their love. The room started loosing its yellow accent as the fire blew out, handing over the throne to the moonlight.
I frowned. I was disappointed. It seemed as though the lamp was mocking my situation and the chore of reigniting the fire was a token of this mockery! I kept my pen and diary on the table, folded my arms and sat there for a while, staring into nothingness.
Drops of water trickled down the faucet. The last flock of birds flew back to their homes. The clock struck ten. The night had just begun its journey to rest in the dawn. I had just begun my journey to thrive in the burning fire of my ambitions. This thought prompted me to jump out of my brief meditation and surrender to the demands of the lamp.
I picked up a match box, some oil and started the fire. At first, it hesitated, as though it feared that it would not be able to fill in the shoes of its predecessor, but then, it chose to embrace its fear rather than fighting back. The fire allowed the fear to fuel its will and burnt even brighter than the one before it. I stood there for a while, with a smile on my face and a hope in my heart. A hope to embrace my fears just like the fire did!