Memoirs of Dreamers



‘To Sweden, bar love.’ Part 3

1 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 5    5.00/5
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December 12th 2013  |  0  |  Category: Other  |  Author: Daryl  |  618 views

Blue, green and red neon lights pulsated above, mingling in a Technicolor dream. The dancers ranged in age from “Too-young-to-know-better” to those obviously trying to get their ‘groove back’. Smoke machines cast the scene in a thick white blanket, hiding the feverish, sweaty couples from the prying eyes of their immediate neighbours. The music boomed, shaking the floor with its bass. I had her hand in mine and another on her hip. She was facing away, but I could tell she was enjoying herself. We were participating in that age-old courtship ritual …

 

the seashore ***** bowhead to mom

1 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 5    5.00/5
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December 12th 2013  |  0  |  Category: True Stories  |  Author: Girdhar Mishra  |  633 views

Shri hari The Seashore The wind near seashore is totally different from the ordinary wind flow in our northern plains. I was enjoying this wind, near Mahalaxmi temple which is situated in Chennai on seashore of Indian ocean. Sea was spraying little salty drops of water on my face and i was trying to measure the dimensions of sea through my little eyes…and sea was teaching me lessons of being broad, energetic and motivated. “Can you order tea for us…my son?” My mom asked me, sitting on a nearby bench. …

 

The Arrogant Girl

1 vote, average: 1.00 out of 51 vote, average: 1.00 out of 51 vote, average: 1.00 out of 51 vote, average: 1.00 out of 51 vote, average: 1.00 out of 5    1.00/5
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December 3rd 2013  |  0  |  Category: Fiction  |  Author: Girdhar Mishra  |  2540 views

SHRIHARI ‘THE ARROGANT GIRL’ “I was planning not to talk to you whole of my journey…. As I felt you are arrogant enough to be left all alone….” Jack started the conversation when only three stations and only two travelers were left for journey…in that train-coach running from Bhopal to Kalka… “Ok… then what turned you on???” Ribbon asked him raising her eye brows. “It may be my curiosity…” He answered. “I think …It is your flirting habit…” She mocked him looking outside from the window with a firm on …

 

The valley of death

1 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 5    5.00/5
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November 25th 2013  |  0  |  Category: Drama , Fiction , Horror , Philosophical , Suspense , Thriller  |  Author: shainur ullah  |  939 views

Valley of death A failed writer, poet and a depressed human being walks into a café, he orders a coffee and sits down with every other guy in the cafe which life had let down. He looks into his coffee, trying to figure out what he is going to do and where his future is going. An old man then comes into the coffee and asks the writer if he can sit down next to him. The old man ask the writer his name, the writer replies “writer just the …

 

A Blessed Event?

1 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 5    5.00/5
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November 10th 2013  |  0  |  Category: Fiction , Tragedy  |  Author: geedda  |  1728 views

The Blessed Event Hello, my name is Horace Whitmore; I am a bachelor with no immediate plans to marry in the very near future, though I have a lady friend I see on occasion; we live in two different cities, making it hard to meet more often. We also have different lifestyles; she smokes, drinks alcohol and tends to overindulge in fatty, high cholesterol foods; while I, on the other hand, eat regular meals; half a plate of vegetables, a quarter a plate of protein, and a quarter of good …

 

Time and Time Again

0 votes, average: 0.00 out of 50 votes, average: 0.00 out of 50 votes, average: 0.00 out of 50 votes, average: 0.00 out of 50 votes, average: 0.00 out of 5    0.00/5
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October 29th 2013  |  0  |  Category: Fiction , Suspense  |  Author: geedda  |  1091 views

The cold northeast wind blew furiously, snow swirling and blowing as the blizzard continued. The Campbell Funeral Home did not close today because of the storm; fact is; they didn’t expect anyone to show up for Harley Maxim’s funeral. Harley was a no-good, lazy man in his late fifties. His death probably due to smoking two packs of cigarettes a day, and consuming more booze than four men and a woman. He worked odd jobs and lived in a house his father left him twelve years ago. Harley collected junk, …

 

From Your Old Lover

9 votes, average: 4.89 out of 59 votes, average: 4.89 out of 59 votes, average: 4.89 out of 59 votes, average: 4.89 out of 59 votes, average: 4.89 out of 5    4.89/5
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October 21st 2013  |  2  |  Category: Romantic Love  |  Author: Deepak  |  1019 views

It’s still a matter of joy to go out for a walk, even though I can barely walk. I need help for the slightest of tasks. Today when I walked in to our café, a young boy had to open the door for me. I was dismayed to see how things had changed. Remember when we started the café, fifty two years back, when I was thirty four and you were thirty three. It was our dream and we worked together to make it come true. We had all the …

 

The Longest Goodbye

4 votes, average: 5.00 out of 54 votes, average: 5.00 out of 54 votes, average: 5.00 out of 54 votes, average: 5.00 out of 54 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5    5.00/5
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October 17th 2013  |  2  |  Category: Philosophical , Romantic Love , True Stories  |  Author:  |  6288 views

“Are you staying?” I already knew the answer, the small, chilled word in my chest. “No. I can’t.” “You mean you won’t.” A silent moment there, neither daring to touch the jagged edge. He stared down at his hands, beautiful, smooth, “I just can’t.” A blinding white-flash of rage rose up inside me. “GO THEN!” I grabbed my bag and rushed out of the cafe. He caught up and we walked in silence for some time. “Starry starry night,” he sang softly as we walked toward the pier. I squeezed …