They held hands and slept through the storm.
8-Word Stories #3
Tag: love
8-Word Stories #1
A forgotten diary, opened a floodgate of emotions.
If you have an eight word short story or poem to share, then please share them with me and the community in the comment section below. I would love to read them! ❤️
Let’s take a walk in Jenkins
Windows are so Dreamy
A window looking out to
a white cherry blossom tree
With a steaming cup of hot coffee
On the window sill.
A writing desk by the window
Stacked with books.
Sheer curtains on the edges,
Moving gently with the wind.
What Do the Trees Say?
What would happen if the trees in a forest got into a conversation?
What do you think they would talk about?
Would they compare their heights?
The lusciousness and colors of their leaves..
Talk about the texture of their bark?
Would they discuss in lengthy sways about the weather and the winds?
How hot the summer would be this year..
How the previous winter dried the very roots and shoots of their being,
Almost a near death experience!
When it rains would they get romantic,
Secretly extending their roots to hold hands underneath the soil?
Will one tree get jealous by the blooming blossoms of another?
Or upset that the birds always flock to that one cool tree?
Will they discuss who’s the new kid around the woody block?
On a full moon night would they share stories,
Of how they grew in the shade of their father –
From a little sapling to a mighty tree?
Do they get annoyed with the travelling band of monkeys,
Who seem to tickle them as they go swinging by?
Do they wonder about the creatures of the forest,
Of their quick and meaningless lives?
Do they smile at each other, shake hands, or nod heads?
So, what do you wonder my wondrous trees?
Wish I could sit down and listen to you speak.
On World Poetry Day
Poetry,
Does not have to be a jumble of words
Or, beautiful sounding prose.
It’s what the people always say,
Poetry is in everything that’s around you.
It doesn’t need to be
Created, written, spoken, or sung.
It doesn’t have to always be expressed.
It can be in the unsaid little things of life.
When you close your eyes in prayer,
The reverent bow of your head, my friend, is a poem.
It is a feeling that flows,
It does not have to be controlled,
Who says you need to follow rules, meters, or rhymes
To feel poetry,
and if you do, that’s great too.
Well, then that’s the ultimate form of poetry.
But poetry, my dear, is you.
The emotions that flow inside of you.
The good ones, the bad ones,
The sad ones, the angry ones,
The love, the hate.
When you feel a darkness creeping within,
Gnawing at your skin
Breaking you, pulling you down,
Haven’t you tried to fight, to overcome?
Expecting light at the end of the tunnel?
You have reached your hand out for help,
Right there is hope, right there in your spirit is poetry.
When you are drowned in work,
Day and night with no track of time,
You have forgotten to eat,
Hungry and tired.
But, when you finally raise your head and stretch
In that deep long breath of exhaustion is poetry.
You are hanging onto your life,
In a local crowded train.
Sweating, cursing, sighing,
Pushing, pulling, struggling..
Struggling for a breath of fresh air.
In that struggling, funny anger my lovely one, let us find poetry.
Poetry is not always flowery.
It can be anything that you want it to be.
Doubtless, that the poems written by
The hopeless romantics,
On the falling leaves,
On the blooming trees,
On the rising, thrashing waves,
On the pouring, loving rain
Will always be the rainbows in the skies.
But, let us continue finding beauty
In the most unexpected traces of life.
Today
Today, I will rise and stretch like a cat.
Yawn real loud and open my mouth as wide as I can.
Draw open the curtains and smile.
Embrace the warmth of sunshine.
Today, I will not worry about the mistakes of yesterday.
I will start the day by being kind to myself and the people around me.
I will take time to work on a hobby that brings me joy.
I will be thankful and show gratitude for what surrounds me.
Today, is going to be another day away from family and friends
I will not crib or complain,
I will tell myself to hold on to hope.
As in my heart they are not far away.
If you have to get obsessed, then obsess over,
reading books without any breaks
walking for hours without knowing where you’re going
watching the stars and wondering how it would be like to be in space
playing with animals and taking care
obsess over loving yourself every single day.
A Lost Snowflake
It was a phase,
When the little girl loved snowflakes.
Nose pressed to the window pane,
She spent hours gazing at swirling flurries,
Gently breezing through the skies,
Softly and quietly covering the world in white.
Now that phase has passed,
Her tiny flakes of joy are lost,
The girl has turned cold as frost.
She finds the snow miserable and utterly cold.
“A dazzling waste of time!”
As she pulls down the window blinds,
A snowflake silently glides
Rekindling the light in her eyes.
The Girl in the Tree by Şebnem İşigüzel
Book Review
Fiction|Trauma|Family Strife|Love
A Girl in the Tree written by Şebnem İşigüzel is a story of a girl who has given up on the world and decides to live in the trees. It is an emotional tale of a teenage girl who talks about Gezi protests in Turkey, constant war in Istanbul, bombing attacks, political realities, and violence in society. The harsh realities and the tragic events leave her with no hope of a better world. So, she runs away and climbs one of the tallest trees in Istanbul’s Gülhane Park. Here she reveals multiple reasons that have led her to take this drastic step of spending the rest of her life in the trees. But, a kind and helpful soul comes around like a glistening ray of hope and an unexpected love story unfolds.
The girl is disappointed and frustrated and does not want to reveal her identity. It all starts with the death of her favorite singer. As the story progresses she shares how she loses her two best friends in a bombing attack. Like her mind, which is in a state of disorder, the girl narrates the events in a disorderly fashion, transitioning from the past to the present.
The girl talks about her dysfunctional family and how she has grown up seeing her mother living a sad and lonely life. She is passionate about writing but is brutally criticized by her school teacher much to her despair. The girl shares all these memories while being perched in a stork’s nest. She hops, skips, and jumps from one branch to another, from one tree to another to avoid being seen by the people in the park.
A bell boy, Yunus, who works in a hotel near the park notices the girl and helps by bringing food, water, and warm clothes. He regularly checks up on her and protects her. They get close and share stories of their past. Yunus showers her with love and care, and even ends up losing his job while trying to protect her. He offers her to run away with him and start a new life but The Girl in the Tree is determined to live the rest of her life away from the emotional miseries of the world.
The Girl in the Tree is a Turkish fictional novel translated by Mark David Wyers. It deals with the struggles of the common people in Istanbul where there is no freedom of speech or women’s rights. All there’s left is grief, political strife and violence. Hence, the girl believes that living in the trees is the only way to attain spiritual freedom. This book has a unique and bold tone where the girl is directly interacting with the readers. The rage and unrest that she is going through is captured extremely well.
I recommend that you give this book a read if you’re intrigued by the offbeat story that is set in a violent political background.
Nuraine Sadaf 