Shining Brighter Than Ever

Archive for the ‘Short story/Extract’ Category

Extract from the book – The color of heaven

Here’s the thing about motherhood. It exhausts you and thrills you. It kicks you in the butt, and the very next second makes you feel like a superstar. Most of all, it teaches you to be selfless.
Let me rephrase that. It doesn’t really teach you this. It creates a new selflessness within you, which grabs hold of your heart when you first take your child into your arms. In that profound moment of extraordinary love and discovery, your own needs and desires become secondary. Nothing is as important as the well-being of your beautiful child. You would sacrifice anything for her. Even your own life. You would do it in a heartbeat. God wouldn’t need to ask twice.

Extract from Promise You Won’t Tell

I am sure that everyone at some point would have heard the annoying sentence, ‘are you joking?’ from someone when you tell something serious.

I found the below extract as an awesome way to handle that kind of situation. Try this next time, I’m sure it will work 🙂

After I sit, Roemer clears his throat and says, “Before I start threatening you, is there anything you’d like to say?”


“Go ahead, then.”

“On the first day of school, a first-grade teacher tells her class they’re not babies anymore. They have to use grown up words. Then she asks the kids what they did that summer. The first kid says, ‘I got a bad boo boo.’ Teacher says, ‘No. You suffered an injury. Use grown up words.’ Second kid says, ‘I rode on a choo choo.’ Teacher says, ‘No. You rode on a train. Use grown up words.’ Third kid says, ‘I read a book.’ Teacher says, ‘Good for you! Which book did you read?’ The kid says, ‘Uh…Winnie the Shit!’”

All three of them stare at me slack-jawed.

Roemer says, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I was telling you a joke.”

“A joke,” he repeats.

“That’s right.”


“Because when I told Lydia her daughter and her friends were drinking Saturday night, she said, ‘Obviously, this is a joke.’ When I told her Kelli let boys in the house, she said, ‘Seriously, Ms. Ripper. Is this your idea of a joke?’ And when you called me yesterday afternoon the first thing you said was, ‘Ms. Ripper, is this whole thing some sort of joke?’ I just wanted you to hear what a joke actually sounds like, so you’d know the difference.”

Child and Sweet

A short story that I read.

A Child went to a shop with his mother. The shop keeper looked at the small cute child and showed him a bottle full of sweets and said ‘Dear Child.. You can take the sweets.” but the child didn’t take.

The shop keeper was surprised. Such a child he is and why is he not taking the sweets from the bottle.

Again he asked to take the sweets. Now the mother also heard that and said, “Take the sweets, dear”. Yet he didn’t take.

The shopkeeper seeing the child not taking the sweets. He himself took the sweets and gave to the child. The child was happy to get two hands full of sweets. While returning home the Mother asked the child.  Why didn’t you take the sweets, when the shop keeper told you to take? The Child replied, “Mom! my hands are very small. If I take the sweets I can take only few but when uncle gave with his big hands, see how many sweets I have got!”

Clever Kid 🙂

Extracts from the Wishes series

Characters, Alex – Charli’s father and Adam – Charli’s boyfriend.

From Saving wishes – conversation between Alex and Charli when Alex feels that she is not going to fit in Adam’s world,

“You used to climb that big tree in the front yard and I’d have to spend an hour coaxing you down,” he said, smiling at the memory. “The conversation was always the same. I’d tell you to jump and you’d ask me if I’d catch you. Do you remember what I used to tell you?”

“Word for word”

“Tell me”

“Every single time you jump, Charli, I will catch you,” I recited. His eyes drifted down again, pretending to look at the pile of photos, but he was smiling.

“I meant it. I’m always going to be there to catch you.”

From Second Hearts – conversation between Adam and Charli when talking about stars,

“How much of your childhood was spent trying to blow out the stars, Charli?” he asked.

I dropped my head, a little embarrassed by the admission I was about to make. “I used to try all the time. When I was little, Alex used to put me on his shoulders, telling me I’d have a better chance if I were closer to the sky. When there were no stars on overcast nights, he’d tell me that was because he’d already blown them out.”



Extract from the book – Second Hearts

Adam sat quiet and interested, listening to the tragic story of Mathilde and Eric.

“They had four little children and no money, so Eric worked very hard as a fisherman, sometimes for weeks on end. The family lived in dilapidated shack at the top of a cliff overlooking the bay. It was freezing in winter and unbearably hot in summer, but Mathilde refused to move to another house on lower ground.”

“Four kids, no money, ramshackle house. The woman must have been a glutton for punishment,” teased Adam, ticking off her troubles on his fingers.

“She loved that house because she could see Eric’s boat in the bay while he was out fishing. And because she was clever, he could see her too.It started with a lantern that she hung from the porch. It was a little flicker of light that he could see all night long from his boat. Mathilde told him that every time she thought of him while he was at sea, she’d attach a crystal bead to the lantern, making the light flicker just a little bit brighter. It was her way of sending him love. It was a long distance billet-doux.”

“I like that story,” Adam murmured.

“That’s not the end,” I said, shaking my head. “After a long fishing trip one winter, Eric never made it home.”

“Let me guess,” said a sarcastic voice from somewhere behind me. “The boat sank in rough seas and she never saw him again.”

I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Ryan. I straightened. Ryan dropped a stack of papers and joined us.

“I guess you’ll never know,” I told him.

“Pay no attention to him, Charli,” urged Adam. “Finish your tale.”

“There’s no need to finish it on my account,” said Ryan, checking the time on his watch.

“Trust me. You’re going to want to hear the end of the story,” insisted Adam. “If you don’t, it’s going to torture you for the rest of the day.”

Ryan squinted at me. “That probably would be one of your magical powers – stealing lucid thoughts.”

“Amongst others,” I said, pulling a face at him.

“Continue,” Ryan demanded.

I looked at Adam as I spoke, ignoring the evil brother as best I could. “Poor Mathilde was heartbroken.”

“Maybe he just wasn’t that into her and he took off with a mermaid or something,” suggested Ryan.

“Shut up,” scolded Adam.

I could feel my temper giving way but I continued. “Convinced he was still seeing the light from far out at sea, Mathilde continued attaching crystals every night. Eventually her children all grew up and left home, leaving Mathilde alone with her grief.”

“Did they ever go back and visit?” Ryan’s curious question floored me. I looked across at him, grinning as if I’d just accomplished something huge. His sheepish expression led me to think maybe I had.

“Not for years and years – long after Mathilde had died. The old shack was worse than ever, barely standing. But still hanging from the porch was the lantern with thousands of crystal beads hanging from it – every one of them representing a moment when she’d professed her love for Eric. It was a crystal billet-doux.”

An extract from the book – The Alchemist

The alchemist picked up a book that someone in the caravan had bought.  Leafing through the pages, he found a story about Narcissus.

The alchemist knew the legend of Narcissus, a youth who knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty.  He was so fascinated by himself that, one morning, he fell into the lake and drowned.  At the spot where he fell, a flower was born, which was called the narcissus.

But this was not how the author of the book ended the story.

He said that when Narcissus died, the goddesses of the forest appeared and found the lake, which had been fresh water, transformed into a lake of salty tears.

“Why do you weep?” the goddesses asked.

“I weep for Narcissus,” the lake replied.

“Ah, it is no surprise that you weep for Narcissus,” they said, “for though we always pursued him in the forest, you alone could contemplate his beauty close at hand.”

“But…was Narcissus Beautiful?” the lake asked.

“Who better than you to know that?” the goddesses said in wonder. “After all, it was by your banks that he knelt each day to contemplate himself!”

The lake was silent for sometime. Finally, it said: “I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected.”

“What a lovely story,” the alchemist thought.