Tag _fiction
She was sipping her second Americano, a book of translated Rumi verses open beside her phone—airplane mode on.He walked in looking for a corner table, scanning the room like someone unfamiliar with staying in one place too long. Their eyes didn’t meet first. Their silences did. Over weeks, they kept showing up—on different days, yet … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
As everyone has left he will sit by himself for a while. Questions rise too many times before and never he got an answer. Today it was different as he sits on the Pew, some people knew that he did prison time for a crime he didn’t commit. Now he got his answer, finally free… ... mehr auf dewerelddoordeogenvanjuistja.wordpress.com
And the story will build in its tracks
Again... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Let its trail prosper!... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Mein erster Versuch in Fiction. Ich habe nur noch gar keine Idee, wie das weitergehen könnte. ... mehr auf tinierklaertsichdiewelt.wordpress.com
As promised, I have stepped away momentarily from my usual historical fiction and offer a story that has been nagging at me since 9/11. A LONG WAY HOME is ready for reading. Here is the blurb: Meredith Haggerty survives … Continue reading →... mehr auf myrahmcilvain.wordpress.com
Ravi had spent years crafting stories, not just with words, but with his voice. His voice was his tool, his art. It was how he brought characters to life, how he made stories feel personal to listeners. He had narrated over 25 audiobooks, and his days used to be easy—sit down in front of the … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
The Call Father Coutinho was wiping down the pews of St. Augustine’s Church when the phone in his study rang. It was late—nearing midnight. Few calls at this hour bore good news. He hesitated, the cloth in his hand hovering over the polished wood. Then, with a sigh, he walked to his study. “Father Coutinho … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
In a quiet corner of Rajasthan, amid the golden dunes of the Thar Desert, there was a woman named Noor who seemed tethered to the winds. Noor wasn’t like other women in her village; she carried a restlessness that made her eyes burn brighter, her words linger longer. It wasn’t marriage or wealth she craved—it … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Luna walked softly, unseen among the crowd, as if her feet barely touched the earth. The marketplace was a swirl of color and noise, filled with the bustle of traders, the laughter of children, and the call of distant travelers. And yet, Luna moved like a quiet river, noticing things others overlooked. Her gaze fell … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Here i am waiting at the the station and i am having a conversation with a very nice man. It a pear he was in the army in World War II . He is kind a sad about how the world is turned in too. He said, we fighted for Freedom for everyone and yet… ... mehr auf dewerelddoordeogenvanjuistja.wordpress.com
Mira Venkatesh was used to deadlines. As a ghostwriter, her life revolved around shaping the words of others while her creative dreams lay buried under stacks of contracts and client demands. Her apartment was a chaos of crumpled papers and empty coffee mugs, each one a silent accusation of the novel she had started and … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Azaan wasn’t supposed to be in Peshawar. His firm in Multan had sent him to oversee a high-profile restoration project—a rare decision in a world obsessed with glass-and-steel buildings. An old estate in the heart of the city, once home to poets and traders, was finally getting the care it deserved. That’s when he met … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
glaube ich...
