"Oh God, I miss her. I miss her so much!”
From behind her clamped hands a soft sob was heard. It was no use, she thought bitterly, despairingly. No matter how hard she pleaded, God would still not budge. And she knew this, for He had all the plans for the universe and they would not alter just because one little angel like her missed somebody and wanted that somebody to be taken to heaven for her own sake.
Showing posts with label #story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #story. Show all posts
Monday, March 26, 2018
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
In Silence
POEMS & SONGS
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FUN
STUFF
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Written by Shinta Harini
I plopped down on my seat, and sighed. I was hoping for a window seat on this flight home from New York. Coming home to a home that was no longer a home after my parents’ separation was a really hard trip to make. I needed time to work things out. But here I was, on an aisle seat. Next to a guy with eyes bluer than the ocean… A guy…
Hey, I knew this guy! I looked closely at him. He was looking out the porthole. Sometimes he nodded his head to the tune of a song he was listening to on his earphones.
“Going to Des Moines?” I said, trying my luck. I had to raise my voice above the loud music that I could hear even without the earphones.
“What?” He stared at me, taking off the earphones. “Des Moines? Yeah. Yeah.” His voice trailed off. My heart leapt up.
Des Moines! Perfect! I mustered the courage to ask, “You’re Jordan Ward, aren’t you?”
He stared hard at me. I freaked out. I felt my face reddening at once.
Sunday, May 15, 2016
| STORIES | ARTICLES | ENGLISH | DIY | POEMS & LYRICS | FUN STUFF |
In Silence
by Shinta Harini
I plopped down on my seat, and sighed. I was hoping for a window seat on this flight home from New York. Coming home to a home that was no longer a home after my parents’ separation was a really hard trip to make. I needed time to work things out. But here I was, on an aisle seat. Next to a guy with eyes bluer than the ocean… A guy…
Hey, I knew this guy! I looked closely at him. He was looking out the porthole. Sometimes he nodded his head to the tune of a song he was listening to on his earphones.
“Going to Des Moines?” I said, trying my luck. I had to raise my voice above the loud music that I could hear even without the earphones.
“What?” He stared at me, taking off the earphones. “Des Moines? Yeah. Yeah.” His voice trailed off. My heart leapt up.
Des Moines! Perfect! I mustered the courage to ask, “You’re Jordan Ward, aren’t you?”
He stared hard at me. I freaked out. I felt my face reddening at once.
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