The Blogger’s Experience Meet

It’s time for the first event in the month of June, when this website, Aaliyah’s Wishland, celebrates it’s birthday. And this event is designed especially to commemorate memorable experiences of blogging, and of nurturing a website.

Last June, when I created Aaliyah’s Wishland, I never did see how it would turn out. I just came across blogs, and I thought it would be nice to have one of my own. Now it’s surprising to see where it has got me online. And I have heard a few other experiences like that as well. Of course we have wordpress.com to thank, but I also have my followers, my visitors, and my blogger friends to thank.

So, I would want a few memorable experiences of writing on an online blog to share here on Aaliyah’s Wishland. Anyone who wishes to share their experiences, is most welcome to do so. Just e-mail me your experience at aliyah.ban@gmail.com, along with your name, and your blog name and address. The deadline for the stories is June 8, 2017. Submissions may start from today (June 1, 2017). Please remember to keep it short, and not too long. After the 8th of June, there will be a post on this blog, which will feature all the shared experiences.

Dear friends, thank you for all your support, and best of luck to all your blogs!

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1 year of writing

This June, on this website, we are celebrating the completion of Aaliyah’s Wishland’s first year of writing. The aim of this blog was to communicate through writing, and show writing in a way that the world appreciates it’s beauty.

1 year with this mission in mind is complete. This June- on the 8th- Aaliyah’s wishland commemorates a successful year to wordpress.com. And thanks to all my faithful followers, and believe me, the comments, and the likes are really motivating.

This website will be hosting a series of three contests, and various other activities in June. The information about these contests will be shared in posts, one dedicated to each contest.

Thank you, and may Aaliyah’s Wishland stay and thrive forever.

Maleficent’s Trap

Dear readers,

This piece was written for a competition. It is supposed to be a children’s tale in not more than 1000 words. Please read through carefully, and please take some time to respond and provide feedback. I would really appreciate responses and feedback. The link to the competition is-

https://writetheworld.com/competitions/23

Maleficent’s Trap

“The thorny green brambles grew and grew, till they pricked her fingers and her feet. And among them, the blood-red buds were slowly spiralling open too, into scarlet roses, that brushed her hands with thorns, when she tried to touch them. She felt a sudden pull from behind. When she looked back, her her long golden hair was twisted and braided neatly- not tangled at all- with the thorny green vines. She gasped in surprise as the brambles slid round and looped around her hands and her legs. But they didn’t hurt anymore. She only watched her magical transformation, while the world around her was engulfed in silvery magical sparkles. So she never saw the changing world, spiralling slowly into another realm around her. Slowly, and mysteriously, the world around her vanished. It all merged into a silvery blur, and she gasped when she saw it happening around her. This was such magic as she had never seen before.
 
She still had a long way to go before the curse took it’s effect. She wasn’t sixteen yet, only thirteen. Her aunts had told her about the curse, only she knew that they weren’t supposed to reveal it to her. She wasn’t supposed to know her own fate. Her aunts just now had been with her now, and now the whole green forest had changed into this blur. She shouted for her aunts. They had magic, of course they could do something.
 
“Aunt Flora! Where are you?”
 
No answer. Silence. The world still kept spinning. 
 
“Aunt Merryweather? What’s happening?”
 
Silence.
 
“What is happening? Oh, I’m scared! Just answer me, please!”
 
There was silence yet again. The world of the green forest and the brown squirrels with the tall trees had all vanished into this unfamiliar silver spinning magic engulfing her. She wasn’t on the forest floor anymore. She was sitting on the same silvery sparkles, and there was nothing. But the brambles with the roses kept growing, and growing. And growing and growing, until it was spinning endlessly. Or was she spinning? The world seemed nothing but silver magic, and she closed her eyes.
 
She was aware of the fact that she was on the floor, lying on her back. Her vision was still too vague to make up her mind fully. Her sight sharpened, and focused onto a face. A face, beautiful, but yet evil, with a cruel thin-lipped smile, and magic filling every other deformity. Her eyes widened. This was that face, which she had seen once as an infant, but still remembered. By the word of her aunts, this was the evil fairy, the cause of her curse. This was Maleficent. She sat up hurriedly, and then remembered the brambles, the sparkles. But the brambles were no more, not on her hands and feet, not braided in with her hair. Her dress was resplendent, with no tears or marks of brambles. Her hair was braided into a long, long braid of purest gold, and pink shoes were on her feet. This was not how she had been in the forest. Then where was she now? She looked around herself, still aware of Maleficent’s piercing gaze. There were stone walls. Candles and lanterns hanging. There were only two other persons in the room besides herself. Maleficent, who was noticeable everywhere, despite the questions clouding Aurora’s mind. And the other . . her gaze fell on a young boy beside her, on the floor like she was. But he hadn’t woken up yet, like she had. He was dressed in a prince’s clothes, and a sword hung at his waist. His brown hair seemed tangled. Maybe Maleficent had the same intentions for both of them. That was when Maleficent stepped closer.
 
Maleficent’s horned black headdress looked menacing. Her thin red lips curved into a dangerous smile. Her long black robe reached the ground in an elegant fashion. She stepped forward, and put a sharp-nailed finger to Aurora’s chin, and lifted her head to her own face.
 
“Aurora, finally. Or should I call you Rose?” Danger and powerful, evil magic was even in her voice.
 
Aurora wasn’t daunted. She looked back at Maleficent, and shouted- “Get away from me!”
Maleficent laughed, a vicious and mocking laugh. She then raised her staff in her other hand. The same silver sparkles swirled in it’s glass orb. With panic rising in her heart, Aurora swiftly grabbed at the prince’s sword. She raised it high, and before Maleficent could stop her, Aurora drove the blade of the sword right through Maleficent’s heart. Relief washed over her momentarily, before she saw Maleficent rise up again. She was smiling no more. Bloodthirsty hatred shone out of her black eyes.
 
“You didn’t think that would kill me, did you now?” said Maleficent, her voice soft and rippling with danger.
 
“Why not?” said another handsome and deep voice from the room. Aurora looked around. The boy was awake.
 
Maleficent’s smile was back.
“Well, Phillip. Or Prince Phillip? Obstacles like you, are not worth my time.”
 
Suddenly, Aurora was blinded by three very glowing balls of red, blue, and green. They slowly expanded, till Aurora’s aunts were there. Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather. Maleficent looked disturbed. Flora suddenly shot out a beam of light that blinded Maleficent. Fauna placed a magic shield in front of Maleficent’s crystal orb. And Merryweather directed a beam of blue magic at Phillip and Aurora. In a swirl of silver sparkles, Aurora was back in the forest. A squirrel bounded up. She put out her hand to touch the little creature, but it went to something else beside Aurora. She looked around. Phillip was there too. But no Maleficent. “

Corpses

Splinters of fine wood apart,
Continues from the ancient start,
Havens in the skies of gold,
New corpses with flowers to hold.
Crosses in the graveyard be,
Underneath a single tall palm tree,
Flying in the air-borne noise,
Playing with an angel’s toys.
Stairs to hell, and carpets to heaven,
For all those who were good old men,
And the fine young children, dead galore,
Wait patiently, anticipate much more.
Between mourners in the cemetery,
Names etched in dusty upholstery,
But as they look down from the sky,
They’ll be remembered by and by.

Joanne

La fille est tres belle, elle est sympathique,
Elle s’appelle Joanne, le bel nom,
Mais, elle est triste, oui, mecontent,
La vie de Joanne est mourir.
Elle etait une contente fille,
Habite a Lyon en France,
Elle crie, mais non, elle,
habite en sa laide vie.
Sa brune cheveux a vole dans l’air,
Sa rouge chaussures danse un moyen,
sa yeux bleues regarde le monde,
Le monde tour sa un moyen.
Ah, chere Joanne!
Joanne etait une bonne fille,
Mais elle est mort,
Pourquoi? Joanne mort?
Il n’ya pas de reponse.
La petite fille Joanne.

The Definition Of Love

Love is what you think of hatred,

Love is what you make it out to be.

Love is what you think of while you waited,

Love is what you think of you and me.

Love is the sky, love is your soul,

Love is the earth, love is your sole,

Comforter, and your heart.

Love is infinity.

Matilda

La fille marchent le long de la route ensoleille. Les fleurs fleurirent, et les oiseaux chantent. La fille s’appelle Matilda. Elle a une enfance tres triste. Les parents de Matilda etaient morts. Depuis, elle ne parle pas.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Matilda, Matilda! Ou est tu? Viens, viens!” le maman de Matilda crie. “Oui, oui, Maman!” parle Matilda. “Quelle?”
“Matilda, ma chere, nous allons a la magasin. “Tu es une bonne fille, ne casses pas n’importe quoi.”
“Oui, Maman. Au revoir!”
“Ciao, ma chere!”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

LES NOUVELLES

“UNE FEMME ET UN HOMME MOURIENT. DANS UNE ACCIDENT DU VOITURE.”

Matilda crie. Elle etait seul.

Tortured

I was staring into the eyes of the girl who sat before me, with swollen red eyes, and a sad expression. In her ocean-blue eyes, I could see her incomplete story.

“See, this is my story. This is what my life has been. And I didn’t enjoy it.” she said, in soft, remorseful tones.
I couldn’t find a word to comfort her. I could almost feel the pain, the mental and physical torture she had gone through since I left her. Unable to do anything else, I hugged her close. Felt the warmth of a best friend returning from hell. The fabric of her t-shirt clung to me, enveloping me in her loving essence. It had been years since I loved her this much. The love came out in a sudden blast, and I felt as if I could never let go.
“I know, dear, I know.” And I silently confessed that I was sorry. I didn’t care if she heard it or not. Because I knew she knew it already.

Her soft voice penetrated my ears like my own heart with scars and wounds of injustice etched on it.
“I can understand.” I knew she could. “I know you’ll not leave me again.”
I could only but nod my head, to affirm that I’d not break her heart twice.

I felt nothing but hate for the person who had made her go through all this. He was not human, he was a devil. She was innocent, but he took advantage of the fact. I had only one thing in mind- ruthless revenge. He deserved it. But I didn’t tell her. She had suffered enough.

The thick and dusty telephone directory lay open, while my tired eyes scanned each page before moving to the next. Finally, after all my futile efforts, I found it- ‘Miranda Turfill.’

This house they lived in, portrayed the look of a murderous drug hideout. A fire of fury and hatred burned hot inside me, and I ceased to think of the fact that I would no longer remain innocent. But I had to do it. I walked up the front stairs made of grey granite, every stone suggesting revenge due to the love of an innocent life destroyed. I would soon have blood on my hands, but I didn’t care. I pushed open the door, and I walked inside. I never stopped to think why the door was unlocked.

And out of the dark shadows, emerged a stately figure. The inhumane devil who had benefitted from this whole ugly and heartrending plot. It was devious. But she didn’t seem to think so. After all, she was his sister. And he had put my love through all this torture. His blood ran in her veins. His blood and flesh stood before me.

The flying strands of her lustrous black hair showed evil, and nothing else. She had been guilty of a crime, and it had cost an innocent life to live in misery and fear. Her face, as the red-hot coals of her eyes bored into mine, was the very picture of triumph and of illicit victory. My hand reached the knife in my back pocket, but as I held it up, she held up her hand, and radiated a shock so strong that my knife stopped midway.

“It wasn’t me.” she whispered in demeaning tones, yet evidently shocked that I had the courage to do what I had been about to.
I flashed an equally hateful grin, which turned into an angry glare.
“Yes, but it was for you.”

“I never asked him to. Go kill him.” She turned, and walked away, her stately figure still held high and proud, even though she had proved herself so low, that she would live at the cost of her family’s death.

I struggled to get it all clear in my mind. My love, my friend, had been framed and tortured unfeelingly by a monster. But that monster had done it for his own sister. But his own sister, the witch as she was, she was not grateful, instead, she wanted to live while her brother, who had become a criminal for her, died! What limits could human envy and human hatred reach?
Yet another painful doubt stabbed my brain again and again, urging it for an answer. Why had she thought that I wouldn’t kill her? She was my sister.

As I stood there, clutching the knife, sweating with all the thoughts that mixed up in hate in my mind, I suddenly became aware of a hand resting on my shoulder. I whipped round, and saw a fairy in hell. It was Mia, the girl, who had suffered, I had left her, and then she came to save me, to find me, when I was falling through the tunnel that eventually ended at death.

“Don’t . . . try . . . to . . . do . . . it . . .” She worded deeply, understandingly. I instantly knew why. He would get back at me, or Miranda would. She didn’t care for her brother, but she cared for he rich life he provided her with. If he didn’t remain alive, neither would Mia, and nor would I.

I held Mia’s hand tenderly, and walked away from the place that represented hell on the earth. You see, revenge can kill love. But love can kill the fire of revenge too. But when love and revenge merged, you only saw hate blind your eyes. He was nothing but an illusion within me. I stood before Mia, and hence, the devil stood before her. Love for Miranda had blinded me momentarily, but Mia was more to me. He no longer reigned over my mind. And as Mia spoke comfortingly to me, I knew she had finally committed the insane deed of forgiving me.

Morning

You say you will be gone by the time,
the sun sets, the light dims, the world sleeps.
The sun says you will be too, but why?
When you go, the whole world weeps,
and so do I. Because you hide, and I never,
accustom my eyes to see you ever.
Fighting my way to seek refuge in you,
but you don’t open your arms, in the misty light,
of your slender body, of your stone-studded bright,
deeply and enchantingly, you appear,
beautiful in contrast to the morose night.
Feet in stilettos, at the door of cafes,
they while away in you, revel in blissful gossip,
But when the evening dulls the energy,
words of farewell are on the tender lip.
Between the changing seasons you,
witness the familiar scene time and again,
You watch the snow, you watch the rain,
The world waking up behind the window-pane.