The fighter

Dangerously Afloat

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Smoothly, it floated, sashaying down the slope. It twirled around, nudging its posterior, dancing to the tune of pitter-patter. Oh! It had the moves!

The notes were clear. It’s movement swift. It was a sight to see the graceful moves. Captivated, they looked at it shimming its way through.

As the droplets became heavy with moisture, it bobbed as it went with the flow. It knew the art of adapting to the movement of the stream. There was no stopping it. It was on a mission to captivate its audience. No, it was not everyday that it got a chance to show-off its skills. And it was not ready to risk all the adulation by losing to a menial obstruction.

With determination, it maneuvered a certain puddle that tried to create another obstacle in its path. Nothing! Nothing and no one could prevent it from reaching its goal.

The slush thickened. It wobbled, yet continued its journey. Smeared in mud, it ambled along, its progress still graceful, yet slow. And then…

It did a double take. Stopped. Jumped. Escape, not capitulate- trying to hold its shape.

It tried hard, rearing to be free. Finally, it accepted its demise, grateful that it had got one opportunity to enthrall.

Soaked, and dying, it mustered the remaining strenght to push through, dead set.
Head on! Refusing to accept failure, it strove once more until it succumbed to the damp and drowned.

The paper boat sunk- in shreds of nothingness.

 

https://picsart.com/i/259776631007202

The Divine Key

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The silence was eerie. The darkness was sinister. After his great feat, he had expected joyous celebrations, pompous gifts and that elusive key, his mentor had promised him. He was sure he would get the award of all awards.

 

His mind reassured him that the silence and the darkness were temporary. Therefore, he decided to wait…

 

He had lost count of time. He, however, realised a long period must have elapsed. He was not a person who let fate decide the course of his life. He carved his own future with grit and blood. He took matters in his hands and decided to find his way to the key.

 

He took a step.

 

Where were his feet? He had no feet! Yet, he had somehow moved. He was falling into an abyss that had a rough and rugged surface.

He raised his hands to break the fall, to stop!

 

Where were his hands? He had no hands! Yet, something disrupted his downward fall. He saw his body bounce up! He tried to swim through the air but, he could not feel his hands. Where were his hands?

 

Like shooting stars, arrows pierced his body. He tired as he may, but he couldn’t figure out the damage the arrows had done to his body. He widened his eye! Without hands, he couldn’t rub them. Then he figured out he had no eyes, although he had eyesight. He could feel the sight… But he couldn’t see.

 

Before he could deduce what was wrong with him, he was drowned in a coagulating liquid which had a pungent smell that he remembered. What was it? The liquid was suffocating him. He tried to swim out but, the lack of limbs had constricted him. Sadly the overwhelming smell of blood… Was it blood? He had smelled enough blood to recognise it. Strangely, he couldn’t smell. He had lost his sense of smell.

 

He thought he heard hoofs of angry bulls running towards him. But could he really hear them? Or were they only vibrations? He strained his ears to hear until he realised he had lost his sense of hearing.

 

Suddenly, like a pendulum, he swayed. He burnt in one end and drowned in another.  And then his body started bobbing in the viscose plasma that stifled him. Suddenly it dawned upon him that he could not feel anymore.

 

Bereft of his five senses, he tried to remain confident about his faith and beliefs. He tried to peer through the troubles.

 

What was wrong with him? He was frantic. He thought he was losing his mind until he realised he had lost his power to perceive and think!

 

But he was a warrior, he wouldn’t give up. Slowly he tried to reach this destination. The place where that divine key hung. His master had told him that he would possess the key when he performed that blessed feat.

 

He wouldn’t give up. He tried again until the momentum made him queasy. It made him retch, but, nothing came out. At that moment, he realised he had lost his body, yet, he felt it all!

 

The realisation struck him like lightning. He had lost his senses and his body. He probably was dead. It was only his soul that was facing all that torture.

 

He remembered what his master had said,
‘The blood of your non-believers will help him procure the key to heaven. That key would lead you to a penthouse of affluence and glory.’

 

He had killed a mass of innocent people to get that key. Where were the divine ushers? They hadn’t arrived yet! Didn’t his master tell him that the divine ushers would lead him to the angels and the land of opulence?

 

Robbed of a body and senses, what was that penthouse worth? Had he been fooled?

 

Although he was confused and scared,  he wanted his penthouse! He didn’t want to be a soul without a body. How would he enjoy those divine perks, otherwise?

 

There was a reason he had agreed to be a suicide bomber. He was promised the key to heaven by his master. Without a second thought, he had agreed to bomb them. But where was the key?

 

He was suctioned into a ball of fire. He was burning but not dying. Had he misunderstood his master? Was his fight against the infidels worth it?

 

Were they really infidels?

 

The jarring sound of the alarm woke him up. He was thankful he was still alive and blessed that he was not dead yet. He was honoured that life had given him a second chance.

 

Right then the alarm beeped a second reminder! He looked at his kit. The bomb would explode in the next hour. His master had given him the task to bomb a contingent on the move. His master had promised him that this act would lead him to the key that would direct him the penthouse called heaven.

 

He was in a dilemma. He didn’t know if he should forsake it all or give humanity another chance. But then the bomb beeped another urgent plea.

 

Trusting his master and ignoring his inner voice, in greed of that divine key, he wore the bomb and walked to his target – Death!

Pic Courtsey: C.L.K Reddy Poetry: 'Moon' Poet: Mona Singh ©www.wakenshine.com.

Short-Stories

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Revive.. Transform... Prevail!

 

Fable, as we know is a synonym for stories. In this channel, we will decompose insecurities, fears, hatred, hopelessness, avarice and other pollutants of our human existence. We will release the noxiousness from the lives of the readers and fill their hearts with healthy hope and a shine to live life.

 

Life might be tough. Disillusion maybe it's middle name. The journey of confusion can lead to the ultimate light of self- belief, self-acceptance, and self- enlightenment. All these 'self' elements are actually the 'Selfies' of experience that lead to lasting emotional awareness.

 

The Glitter-Gatherers of Wake-n-Shine will share short stories of life's ways with you. The journey will be fun, and it will make you eager for further installments of the developing plots. You will want more, and you will get it here.

 

When in a sticky situation, you will be reminded of some event from one or some of the short stories that are published here.

 

They will make you smile through those tough times, gear up, maybe be inspired to tackle it with might.

Creepy Flash Story Author: Kleio B'wti ©www.wakenshine.com.

Bloody Rock

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The sun was blazing green hues, the earth was sprouting blood like dust. The wind was icy and heavy- almost suffocating!

 

Sunburnt, twisted limbs dug. They fissured the serum of earth with violence. They tickled the tarnished soil with their sickles and spades. Each brutal sweat evaporated into miasm. The wailing frenzy swallowed the filth, the trauma.

 

Violence sniffled into abjectness.

 

The arid restrictive atmosphere was burning through the hides of those slimy creatures that were wriggling on the scarlet soil. They were like veins that had burst in a body and found a different path- away from the nervous system.

 

The seams spreading like vile branches covered the scorching ground, never succumbing to the underground lava that knocked on the earth's soil for release! Small ants preying on the mounting limb like veins, sucking in the plasma of the soil, grew to dinosaur-like heights. They scurried on the ground, thumping, crushing the wounded vegetation into fountains of red!

Gradually, crystal dews fell in torrents like angels falling from the sky. Sadly, as they fell they melted into puddles of a well-cut pink rhombus of blood diamonds.

Author: Kleio B'wti

Our Song Recommendation for this Short Story!

'Bang! Bang! Bang!!!' Short Story Author: Kleio B'wti ©www.wakenshine.com, 2017.

Bang! Bang!! Bang!!!

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Rick liked it all.

 

He liked his friends, his job, his neighbors, the street dogs that accompanied him every time he went out for a walk. Every person who envied him or felt aggressive towards him regrettably couldn’t say a sole callous word for him. They ended up flattering him and his compassion. All they could say to vent out was that there was something 'wicked' about those twinkling eyes.

 

Those eyes squinted when they smiled, laughed in those grim conferences and shouted "I told you so" when the boss took someone to task. Yet his face remained expressionless. The strangest bit in this whole phenomenon was the fact that only his rivals and enemies could read his eyes. The others found them most safe and happy.

 

There is a certain connection that a person has with his critics. They somehow comprehend them better.

 

The doubters may not value the person's achievements nonetheless, they do identify the shortcomings. Rick's enemies were no different. They saw his eyes were bloodshot under those sunglasses. Scretly, they sniggered and clandestinely jested at the happy man. They knew something was amiss. The man- everyone's idealized had a foe that kept him awake at nights or made him cry to oblivion.

 

The detractors kept fussing over it, the admirers kept on loving him, and the days passed.

 

The cloudy days looked sunny when he smiled and the sunny days less scorching when he crooked his Aviator-glasses towards them. Life was happening when he was around- a star in the universe he lived in. This is how the world perceived him. Rick, however, did not think on the same lines of his aficionado and abhorrent.

 

He was a guy who detested the mirror. He kept his hair really short because he was scared to look at his reflection. It was better to just brush his short crew cut and run his fingers through them to make them look groomed. He regularly took professional help to get a shave. His trusted hair-dresser followed his orders and covered the mirror for him when he visited the salon.

 

He didn't mind people. They were a welcome distraction – a diversion to keep his mind away from what lay under the layers of dark things that went on in his brains. One day, he grazed his hand on an iron fence and was astonished to see red liquid oozing out of his fingers. He had believed his blood was black too. So much had happened, the snapshots never left him. He was gratified to have people around him; thanking them with an open admiration.

 

He was scared.

 

Ricky, whom everyone loved was unloved by his own self. Although he hid his real persona from the world, only he knew what he signified. He represented the worst. The dark fear, the sorrow, the pain, the remorse never left him. Whenever he slept the nightmares -real than life, filled his intellectual space with trepidation. He saw himself as a three-year-old, smiling almost laughing and pulling the trigger.

 

Bang! Bang!! Bang!!

 

He saw all his family falling. Dad went first, then his brother on the second and then his lifeline- his Momma on the third. The judges in the court were funny. They did not shoot the last of the cartilage in him. They forgave him saying it was an accidental death by a toddler. He understood what death was when they took him to the graveyard. Were they dead?

 

Perhaps they weren’t.

 

They were buried and try how much he might he would not be able to dig six feet underneath. 6- feet under was more than layers that differentiated the living from the lifeless. His soul had departed with them. Sadly, he was all alone- still breathing. He had buried his spirit with them but the inhalation wouldn't stop.

 

As a grown up, he stood against violence- championed against possession of domestic ammunitions. He wanted to tell others that there was still a chance that he had lost. Yet, more people got licensed guns. Ricky spent sleepless nights for days; sometimes months. Clinically they said he was an insomniac.

 

Poignantly Ricky believed he was a murderer, a lover of a weapon that had wiped his family, his lifeline, his hope, and future.

 

He stood and fought with every legislator. He stood in rallies taking leave without pay to fight the law of firearm possession. Yet, it was all in vain. What he saw was that three-year-old toddler killing them all one by one.

 

Bang!  Bang!!  Bang!!!

Our Song Recommendation for the Story!

'Ballerina' Short Story Author: Kleio B'wti ©www.wakenshine.com, 2017.

Ballerina

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She wanted to wear those beautiful red heels and dance! She could see her blond hair bob in a ponytail every time she swished through the rink, a beauty an elegant angel with posteriors stretching to perfection!

 

The crowd applauded with her every swirl. Their cheers rose a crescendo when she twirled around. No other human could sway into immaculate circles like her. Only she could ever achieve such perfection!

 

She was a dancer - 'the' Ballerina.

The Ballerina swayed as the wind, who flowed as those orange leaves in autumn! She was that perfect creation of nature that only enhanced from perfection to surreal.

 

Every curve of her pirouette filled the world with the scent of heaven- the glitter from the sky. She could make the sun rise with her leaps, the waves rose high with her Degage. She could awaken a volcano in her Allegro and bring rain with that swift Tour en l'air.

 

Beautiful Ballerina Croiséd in quintessential harmony, she created hues of red, pink, gold, violet, silver. The Ballerina conjured bubbles of warmth and clouds of a dream. A never ending dream, spotless, precise, untouched- the ultimate concoction of swilling sentimentality- a piece of her heart.

Our Song Recommendation for this Short Story!

Anna's Clutter Short Story Author: Kleio B'wti ©www.wakenshine.com

Anna’s Clutter

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The phone rang incessantly; unanswered.

 

Then there was total silence. It was broken repeatedly with the ‘tring- din’. Yet there was no response. Huddled in the corner, she shivered in spite of herself. She was determined. Come what may she wouldn’t answer that call.

 

A few years back, she would make sure to answer the buzz instantly. It was then! She couldn’t bear the sound of that gadget any longer. There was no respite. It wouldn’t stop until she paid heed to it. The instrument ran her life, currently. She was its slave. Try, however, she may, it was futile. It wanted to get heard.

 

Times had changed. Once she governed her own life. She called- demanded people’s time and significance. Yet today the role had reversed. The one she ruled was ruling her off late. Alas! Was there an end? If only she were deaf or dead! She wasn’t a masochist, though for she could never pierce and damage her ear drums with screwdrivers nor could she take her own life.

 

She was in a daunting zone- was shattered. Not anymore! She couldn’t take it anymore.

 

Anna sat on the cold floor shivering. She was alright in the freeze than to enjoy the comfort of her room where that much-hated object lay- her phone. Anna had been reduced to a heap of sorrow. The last few months had only brought bad news. She had received calls about her retrenchment from her workplace.

 

The place she worshiped; her vault that paid her that huge remuneration. The only good news that wretched ‘thing’ communicated was of her sister becoming a mother of healthy twins. Once she had heard her friends laugh, cry, bitch and chat a little more. She had loved to participate in those discussions. Not today.

 

This day was different. The thought of the phone receiver against her ear was nerve wrecking. It pierced her soul with fear. Wrapped in her sad thoughts, she missed the first few rings until it haunted her again. She didn’t know when, however, she had fallen asleep.

 

A buzz awoke her. She tried to ignore, yet it stayed. She opened her eyes to the summer afternoon. Rays of the sun filtered into her room. “You better get up and get that.” Sleep had cleared the fuzz a little. It had transferred sunny warmth and a little courage. She wobbled to the phone, the ring had stopped, yet the display light showed a hundred calls missed. Anna wondered the century of chances she had missed in life.

 

Clearly, it wasn’t something that was displayed on some wretched screen. Anna lived with her own demon, never shared her pain. She couldn’t get it all back, she knew. Why retrieve the phone calls she had missed, then? She closed her eyes and asked ‘Siri’ to erase the call log.

 

Suddenly it re-commenced- the ring! Startled! Scathed by the objectionable item, she dropped it from her shivering fingers. Nonetheless, it rang and rang. She blocked her ears with cotton balls. Yet, she heard them- the ‘tring-dins’.

 

She rummaged through her belongings to cover her head with a scarf- no respite. Then the helmet-no it still had her ears exposed. Now she tried to glue some Thermocol roughly cut into ear sized rounds, they fell off. She hid under the mattress of the bed and piled her head with pillows. No, they wouldn’t leave- the sound wouldn’t stop.

 

There was that din, then the door bell. Oh! How she hated that summoning blare! It kept on too-ringing. And then there was the banging on the door. Panic attack! She was stunned into that black space. No one could get her now. No one……

 

She didn’t know how long it had been there. She felt safe. And then the beeping, that she had never heard before pierced through her consciousness. It was as creepy as it could get. She had to hide again. She tried to get up, she couldn’t. Something was pulling her back. Scary, very chilling were the thoughts in her head. Eyes- she had to open them. She had to see, find a new place to hide. The beeps were now faster than before; as fast as her heartbeat.

 

And then she heard the shuffling! “What’s that?” She was back in her safe place again.

 

Shuffling although fearsome could lead to her silent place. Anna was safe again. And the peace continued, uninterrupted. Until that light shone, the beep returned. Still insecure and unsure she had somehow mustered enough courage to open her eyes.

 

Everything was white- the bed, the walls, the pillows, the bed-sheets, the floor. The only color was her blue. The beeping machine looked machine-like. On her left was a huge window. And on her right, some masked people were approaching her. Some wore white too.  The other two wore green overalls. They didn’t scare her. Not even with their white masks. She must be in heaven now. They must be those Angels God had sent to watch over her. A man removed his mask, smiled at her and said, “How do you feel, Anna?”

 

Anna replied, “Heaven is a safe place. Thanks for having me.”

 

Author: Kleio B’wti

'Incognito Inamorato' Short Story Author: Kleio B'wti ©www.wakenshine.com, 2017.

Incognito Inamorato

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Hardbound in red, with gold ink etching out the name 'Incognito Inamorato' winked wickedly at Lana.

 

The very cover of the stationery made her cringe! For years she had poured her heart out in it. She had once thought it to be her best friend; the one who knew everything about her one-sided love, her wishful thinking, her angst, her jealousy, her fears- every emotion that 'he' evoked in Lana. The Diary was her witness.

 

Lana reasoned how it was important to move on, to survive. It was crucial to surrender to hopelessness, for new hopes to sprout.

 

The only way she could make a fresh start was to let the diary go.

 

With a deep breath, tears rolling down her eyes, she walked down the stairs, into the living room; opened the door to the porch- resolutely walked further until she reached the picket fence at the gate where the black garbage bag lay abandoned.

 

She carelessly tossed the diary, never looking back. The Diary almost wilfully somersaulted from the edge of the garbage bag into the center of the pavement. A resolute Lana hadn't looked back, she wouldn't look out of the window where her beloved diary could be seen lying alone, sad.

 

Dave in the other part of the same neighborhood cursed under his breath as we walked through the pavement. He had had enough! After years of squabbling more than loving, he wondered if his childhood romance with Summer was a mistake. She had believed it was! She had given him an ultimatum today. He should either propose or stay away.

 

Dave loved Summer, yet a niggling thought was growing into a shout in his head, "It was puppy love. Don't commit!" Distraught emotionally exhausted romantically, Dave kicked the few dry leaves on the pavement and strode away quickly until a light object touched his toe.

 

The red Diary smiled invitingly at Dave, shimmering in the street lights. Dave was longing for a change in mood. He would rather read a stranger's secrets than prod on his own love life. So he sat down on the side, picked up the diary and turned the pages until morning came.

 

He then walked up to the porch and rang the bell. Lana groggily skipped down the stairs to see who it was. A look at Dave and all her sleep was replaced into stupendous elation!

 

She squeaked, "What are you doing here, Dave?"

 

Dave looked equally perplexed! He had never known that the shy and beautiful Lana, his classmate since middle school lived just a few blocks away! He cleared his throat in wonder and said,
"Hey Lana! I found your diary. You must have dropped it on the road by mistake. I didn't know you lived here!"

 

Lana replied accusingly, "How would you know Dave? You have been too busy for too long!"

 

"You write well, Lana! It’s funny that your boyfriend shares my name”, Dave mentioned with a chuckle.

 

Flabbergasted, Lana repeated in a rising voice, “Funny!”

 

Hey, Lana! No bad blood girl! I mean your guy is lucky, to have a perfect girl like you", Dave smilingly declared.  “I must confess, I always had a thing for your poems since Grade 6! Your Dave is a lucky dog!”

 

Lana with stabs of embarrassment, yet giddy with a resigned love, snatched the diary from Dave and shouted angrily as she slammed the door- "Me! Lucky! I have no boyfriend! It was always you, Dave- you fool!"

 

Author: Kleio B'wti

Our Song Recommendation for this Short Story

'Rodent Repartee' Short Story Author: Kleio B'wti ©www.wakenshine.com, 2017.

Rodent Repartee

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Von, the squirrel always took the corner.

 

It was the best place to collect nuts as there were those shady trees whose branches leaned on the building- a welcome shade during the grueling day’s work. His sack was only full by one-fourth and winter was quickly approaching!

 

The squirrel’s giving heart overpowered his sense of worldliness. Often, the other squirrels tricked him to part with his loot with a sob story. The squirrel’s competitors thus hoarded more worked less, thanks to the squirrel at the corner. 

 

Things were calm and ordinary at the bend until a white mouse arrived. She had the most manicured nails, a shiny nose, and a springy tail. She had all the trimmings of ‘the lady in the manor’ yet strangely she was out to gather provisions for the winter. Initially, she took any place she’d find on the pavement.

 

Come the fourth day, she stepped hard on the squirrel’s foot. While he was hopping in pain, the mouse took his spot!  The mouse devised the cheapest tricks to seize Von’s position daily! No other squirrel came to help Von. Not once did they think to pay Von’s kindness with support. 

 

As winter approached, the other squirrels had enough to last them until the next spring. The mouse had sacks full of supplies. Von still had his sack unfilled. With the first flake of snow, the squirrels scuttled into their warm burrows.

 

Von had nowhere to go.

 

He had been so busy collecting scarcely available munchies that he had forgotten to get himself a place to stay during winter. Down-and-out, Von retired to his beloved place, the vacant corner. The Mouse too had vanished into thin air with her plunder as the snowflakes danced a pristine dream in white. 

 

All the frozen squirrel could do to keep warm was to get inside his sack and hide among the food he had collected. While he shivered, the chill was bearable inside. Days flitted into nights. Von remained in his quickly dwindling heap of rations. Then one night the icy winter wind sang its eeriest tune, the snowfall became a dense torture, leaving Von in uncontrollable shivers.

 

When he heard the tiny teeth gnawing, he thought it was his dental chatter. When he felt his sack move, he thought it was his remains’ tremble. But when the warmth of the fire, reached him through the crackling nuts in his provisions, he mustered his last bit of curiosity to peep through the holes in the sack. What he saw finally froze him in disbelief!

 

The white mouse, in the prettiest of all mouse dresses, peeped back through the holes and ordered, “Get out now! Your cheap thrills in the snow are a misadventure! You have to live coz I still have to steal your corner next spring.”

 

Von decided the best treatment for hallucination is to discount a response.

 

The mouse now squealed, “Get out you squirrel or else I will pour the warm broth I cooked for you into your sack and burn you!”

 

Von retorted with a snort, “Okay! Okay! No cheap thrills, at my expense- My Lady!”

 

Author: Kleio B'wti

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Someplace

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In the Golden, Land called ‘Someplace’ lived four friends among others. These four friends were unique, distinct, with a mind of their own. However, they still were the best of pals. ‘Someplace’ was a golden land of Kosen Rufu. Gradually there came a time when it became a trial. The four associates stopped communicating and went their separate ways.

 

Faith turned towards the North, to never look back.

Practice moved to the East, vouching it was forever.

Study moved to the West, with a determination to never return.

‘The Fourth’ friend, was lost. He stayed back in ‘Someplace’ all sad and depressed.

 

Years went by. As fate would have it, Faith returned and so did Practice and Study. Faith was now a halo- an aura in blue. Practice shone a shimmering red. Study, was a soothing green. The three erstwhile friends tried best to ignore each other. They, nonetheless, had to come together to meet ‘The Fourth’. They knew he would not meet them otherwise. So reluctantly, Faith, Study, and Practice arrived at the ‘The Fourth’s’ hut.

 

‘The Fourth’ was nowhere to be found! They searched for him taking turns as they could barely tolerate each other. Days went by, but ‘The Fourth’ had vanished into thin air! Now in a crisis, worried about their best friends, Practice, Study and Faith grudgingly decided to bury their hatchet and search for ‘The Fourth’ together. They went to the North to look for him, then to the East, West and the South. ‘The Fourth’ remained missing.

 

Not broken, not sad, the three friends realized that they still had hope when they were together. And this collective hope gave them knowledge, and then a direction….

 

They walked back to ‘Someplace’ and then climbed the highest mountain there, looking for their friend. They saw someone walking with the children of ‘Someplace’ in a green patch. This person looked like ‘The Fourth’. Faith, Study, and Practice jumped with joy and ran towards their long lost friend.

 

'The Fourth’ was ecstatic to find his friends unitedly, like earlier. The four friends held each others’ hands and did their customary dance. The friends' then asked ‘The Fourth’ where he had disappeared, revealing the efforts they had made to locate him but to no avail! A smiling ‘The Fourth’ who now radiated an aura as bright as a star, said that he was “right here”. Looking at the perplexed expression of the trio, ‘The Fourth’ said these lines to his buddies.

 

“My dears, when you all moved away, I was sad. I was lonely. Something in me was dying. ‘Someplace’ was dying along with me.

 

What could I do to save it all?

 

I thought I’d do everything by Faith, just like you, my friend. This approach benefitted me but no beauty came with it. I was at a loss! What next? Why this? Why not that?

 

Subsequently, I thought, I would do what you used to, Study. I gained immense knowledge but I could not share it with the citizens of ‘Someplace’, as I was learning for myself. I was only enhancing my own skills but ‘Someplace’ was deteriorating and I with it.
Then I started to go by your philosophy, Practice. Alas! I forgot all I had learned through learning. I barely remembered some. This eventually made me start losing faith.

 

‘Someplace’ in the meantime was no more a golden land. We had riots, diseases, famines; people were losing their morality, financial deficit and much more. I remembered how everyone was joyous and victorious around us when all the four of us were together. I pondered, ‘What if I walked in Faith, resolute in Practice, wise with Study?’

 

And that was my victory and that of ‘Someplace’.

 

I am ‘The Seeker’. If you look at me individually, you won’t see me anymore. If you all join hands and see me with one heart, you will find in me, your friend- ‘The Seeker’.

 

Since that day, the four friends always lived a combined existence, in harmony. They traveled around the globe. Wherever they went, they went jointly. They created value and brought peace and joy in every land, every heart, they touched.

 

Author: Kleio B'wti

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