Win cash rewards worth Rs.45,000. Participate in "A Writing Contest with a TWIST".
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Contest On Storywrite.Com

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The world-a photograph
A photograph
Which is a poet
Me...

It was late at night when I was thinking of going to sleep but I started walking drowsily on road and on a staircase to the park I fall asleep on the subway.

I wake up the next morning to find a note pinned to my sleeve and the photograph where I wake up.

The note:

hmm... you are a great poet of a photograph called world.
Now, it is my turn sir, you are my inspiration. So, I will write a poem of your photo in the world I have created. The photograph is the brain (the virtual world you are in).

Now, think how to live best in the world to be the best poem of the photograph of world.

I am thinking about my life. How to live. So tough is the life of a middle class person. He neither has the will to see dreams (because if he gather the will he won’t be able to enter into the world of his own dreams except in night in his dreams, tired from the days tire).

"Though I am a poet of a photograph of the world, I am from a middle class family and no extraordinary. He doesn't know! Bloody fool!"

I started living.

Life is full of choices provided talent exists. I am in a battlefield of searching for jobs for my life to continue in this virtual world and real life. I am getting selected and joining organizations. Training days are good. Working hours are good. But taking calls in call centers or BPO's is horrible. I quit the job after taking 1 month salary.

In the real world, Mother would have scolded me. She does scold me always. Even my sister scolds me. But, thank god, I am in a virtual world. But how it will make a good poem if I leave the job. I started hunt and in the span of a week I have joined another organization.

The poet wrote:
I am a warrior in the battlefield.
I left a job, which never yield.
But I have another one now
My talent is a great bow
And my tongue an arrow.

My failure to me and to my Mother in reality is created as a great poem virtually. My life is and will be in stake in case I won’t sustain and become dirty dry as a stagnant water in the same organization though I do not like it. Even working for six months won’t suffice the next organization. Hence I am a failure.

But the way a poet writes with his perception and vision is... ( mention not).

The poet wrote:
The suffer he suffer
In the safari with the lions
The wild bison
He is driving himself
Proving himself
Every step
For mere appraisals
Worthless surprises
In his pursuit of becoming stagnant
To become (so called) Manager.

After looking at my suffering in virtual world. The poet too has realized the fact of my life and released me to my own world where I have to suffer really, in reality...

PVPD SRI HARSHA
26-8-2016

 

 

You fall asleep on the subway. The photo shows where you wake up. You have a note pinned to your sleeve.

Rules:
-Write me a story. (The longer it is, the more I like it. If you can write this particular story in few words, I will be very surprised.)
-Mark adult content as such.


(I will add more trophies and points as entries warrant.)


GO!  © 5 months ago, pvpd sri harsha   

 


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