The Third Stair

There had been a crack on the third stair from the top, for as far back as Kyle could remember. It would creak under his weight as he went upstairs or came downstairs from his bedroom, which was in the attic. His bed surrounded by memories, his and others’. But what intrigued him most was the third stair. …


Hey folks! I’ve been invited to be a guest at an amazing blog, where one of my best friends, Bhavya, writes her wonderful stories. I’ve written a story for her bloggy, and you can visit Ishithaa to read the rest of it. Hope you enjoy!


(21st August 2014)

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Poetry & writing to me are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

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