inkstainsdaydreams

We know the stories.
          
          Noah and the flood.
          David and Goliath.
          The prodigal son.
          The empty tomb.
          
          But what about the people standing just outside the spotlight?
          
          The widow nobody remembered.
          The sinner everyone pointed at.
          The disciple who doubted.
          The stranger who showed mercy.
          The verse we skipped because it made us uncomfortable.
          
          What the Bible Left in the Shadows walks into those places.
          
          These are biblical poems and stories about the overlooked corners of Scripture—the people, moments, wounds, failures, mercies, and unanswered questions that can disappear between the familiar lines.
          
          Some of these stories may comfort you.
          
          Some may bother you.
          
          A few might make you close the book for a minute and stare at the wall.
          
          Because sometimes the part of Scripture we read past is the part that was waiting to find us.
          
          Come on in.
          
          The shadows have been keeping their own kind of testimony.
          
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/416293866?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams

much appreciate sir for all support and dropping by  ^^ 
          i havent been much active on wattpad for a while.. but it gladdens me to see your works - with evergreen refreshing atmosphere ^^
          may your works continue ^^
          
          also i have a query : are there writing groups in locality there? at my area there isnt.also i havent been much outside either as my folks are very indoorsy. 
          
           i been dwelling on this question of how to start a safe space where people can share and read out what they wrote.. like at a local mini scale. does it start at little pieces of writing being given away like individually ? if so.. was that how Santa became Santa?

Twenty-five years after September 11th, the pictures still burn.
          
          The smoke. The phone calls. The firefighters walking toward the impossible. The strangers who became heroes because somebody still needed saving.
          
          But this isn’t only a poem about what we lost that morning.
          
          It’s about what happened afterward—how a country that once grieved together slowly learned to shout at itself instead.
          
          Maybe remembering the dead isn’t enough.
          
          Maybe the real memorial is what we do with the living.
          
          A witness poem about September 11th, twenty-five years later—and the country still trying to find its way home.
          
          
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/1657574372?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams

Four new chapters in the Ash Creek series:
          
          Some houses keep secrets.
          
          The Mercer house kept names.
          
          When a condemned farmhouse in Ash Creek reveals a hidden room behind its walls, the narrator discovers something the Mercer family—and perhaps the whole town—has spent generations trying to forget.
          
          A missing boy.
          
          A rusted key.
          
          A wall covered in names that should have disappeared long ago.
          
          And beneath it all, something that has been listening.
          
          Samuel Mercer wasn’t the first.
          
          But if Ash Creek has spent decades burying the truth, there may be a reason nobody wants to remember what happened to the people who heard it.
          
          Because some things don’t stay buried.
          
          They wait.
          
          And sometimes, they follow you home.
          
          
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/414665994?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams

Some men spend their lives running from the things they’ve done.
          
          Some finally stop running.
          
          A worn-out house, a dead man’s radio, an old photograph, and a man who’s beginning to understand that redemption doesn’t always arrive with thunder and angels.
          
          Sometimes it sounds like a screen door in the middle of the night.
          
          Sometimes it tastes like cold coffee.
          
          And sometimes the devil knows your name long before you learn how to forgive yourself.
          
          The Devil Knows My Name is a dark, blues-soaked song about guilt, mercy, and finding just enough light to keep walking.
          
          
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/1656956343?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams

He knew how kingdoms fell.
          
          He knew how men followed fear, how pride could be sharpened into a weapon, and how one good plan could change the course of a war.
          
          The Bible says Ahithophel’s counsel was like asking God.
          
          But when his own counsel was rejected, the man who seemed to know everything could not find a way through his own darkness.
          
          This is the story of a brilliant man who knew how to survive a kingdom—
          
          but not an evening.
          
          Sometimes the darkest thing about a story isn’t how it ends.
          
          It’s realizing there was still a tomorrow.
          
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/1656605611?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams

They called it progress.
          
          They promised jobs, money, a brighter future.
          
          Nobody mentioned the water.
          Nobody mentioned the power.
          Nobody mentioned the hum that never stops.
          
          The Machine That Never Sleeps is a spoken-word witness poem about what happens when progress becomes hungry—and ordinary people are asked to feed it.
          
          Because every machine has an appetite.
          
          And sooner or later, somebody has to pay the bill.
          
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/1656414076?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams

Love isn’t always roses and promises.
          
          Sometimes it’s bad coffee, slammed doors, old scars, leaking roofs, and two people stubborn enough to stay when walking away would be easier.
          
          A Lifetime Loving You is a love song about the kind of devotion that survives the beautiful days and the ugly ones—the kind that grows quieter, deeper, and more precious as the years go by.
          
          Because when everything else has worn away, maybe the greatest thing two people can say to each other is simply:
          
          I’m still yours.
          
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/1655622108?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams

The Man Who Brought the Rope
          
          Jeremiah was thrown into a pit and left to die.
          
          The city kept breathing.
          
          Then a man named Ebed-Melech heard what had happened.
          
          He was an outsider. A foreigner. A man with little power and no reason, by the world’s standards, to risk himself for a prophet everyone else had already abandoned.
          
          But he brought a rope.
          
          And before he lowered it, he wrapped it in old pieces of cloth so it wouldn’t cut the man he was trying to save.
          
          Sometimes faith isn’t a sermon.
          
          Sometimes mercy isn’t loud.
          
          Sometimes the Kingdom of God looks like a man standing at the edge of a pit, getting his hands dirty, and remembering that the person at the bottom is still worth saving.
          
          There are still pits.
          
          There are still people in them.
          
          And somewhere in the dark, someone may still be waiting to hear the rope hit the bottom.
          
          
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/1654401307?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams

Sometimes prayer isn’t quiet.
          Sometimes it sounds like a tired man sitting across the table from God, coffee going cold, asking the questions he’s been afraid to ask.
          
          Why does suffering fall where it does?
          Why does God stay silent?
          And what does He really ask of us when the world is already broken?
          
          The Conversation is a raw, biblical-inspired witness about doubt, anger, faith, suffering, and the strange mercy of following God without having all the answers.
          
          Because sometimes faith isn’t a flashlight.
          
          Sometimes it’s just one match in your pocket—
          and the courage to strike it in the dark.
          
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/1652869583?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams