malachi_malachite

The Gamble
          
          there are many kinds of gambling from stock trading which incur losses to nations.. to gambling that authors do like Dostoevsky. 
          
          they say that once you enter into that land there is no escape out. you are hooked into it forever. 
          
          this little flash fiction questions the meaning of gambling in a contemporary domestic setting.
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/1655281898-unsorted-the-gamble
          
          (also entering it into the shortys 2026)

Palmar Grasp
          
          I am drowning in this miry clay, whirlpool of information overload and choices overload, and responsibilities overload, and work overload. 
          
          I try and try and try to save myself. 
          
          The more I see, I see, all what,  whom I invested rejecting me. 
          
          And then I hear His voice, like the roar of waterfalls, First  Father, Lord and King of kings, the Creator, the first mover, the first rejected say, 
          
          “Haath chodo. Niche math dekho. Main hoon na’’
          
          I woke up to see my kids watching Main Hoon Na aloud and I slept on the sofa. 
          
          It might be only a dream but it was the answer to my reality, I concluded. It felt like resisting palmar grasp in my feelings, on the husband who didn't return.

what nanoscopic alien queen spied on:
          
          
          	‘’so I heard you are being imprisoned by your helicopter parents. Why don’t  you take a driving license and get a freelance job and apply for pan and move away?’’
          
          ‘’do you think what imprisoned me will move away if I go far from parents?’’
          
          ‘’why ofcourse yes?’’
          
          ‘’then why do I hear about those who are free, becoming imprisoned to substance abuse, doomscrolling, alcoholism, gluttony?’’
          
          ‘’atleast they are doing it in their own preference’’
          
          ‘’I have experienced  that my cherished preferences didn’t save me but imprison me’’
          
          ‘’and living to the whims of your helicopter parents who doesn’t allow you to even  get fresh air are gonna save you?’’
          
          ‘’no, my soul is imprisoned by ties that are invisible both to you and me. But the Creator blows His spirit and examines my heart to renew me. When I finally am free, you will see me dancing and singing praising the Creator without a care, and I will be sent on the two feet that Creator gave, to spread the good news report as His journalist. Not for a salary nor for blaming and shaming people or leaders but to break free whose souls are imprisoned like me.’’
          
          ‘’sounds like religious bs they do as propaganda. Why else would you not use vehicle but feet?’’
          
          ‘’no cage is a cage when the prisoner acknowledges there is the Creator ‘s presence even inside the cage. This is what calling to the Creator by the name given does. This is what waiting on calling on the name of the Creator does. ’’

Writing :  giving away vs creating from scratch?
          
          Once upon a time in the woods of literature there were two people on an expedition! The round glasses wearing Rational, and the messy long hair bearded Irrational!
          
          Said rational to irrational, ''so before we get to the valleys of writing flow state, there is this river to cross over. They say many don’t make it pass it''
          
          Irrational rolled eyes. "They were thinking too much like you!"
          
          ''We need to have a plan from scratch. because if everything else fails at least we are reminded of the hard work we did to cross the river and perhaps our next generations could learn from them!'' , said Rational with their voice getting heated up.
          
          "Thinking that you got nothing? That's the problem. See, we all already were given something. This is what we can give away!'' Irrational  said, calmly plucking the oars from Rational and rowed.
          
          "I don't understand, I’m the one supposed to be calm here... not you! You are..." stuttered Rational adjusting the spectacles.
          
          "Supposed to be eccentric?' sang Irrational and started to sing in gibberish-speak.
          
          The boat floated through, like a ballet dancer's graceful step, across the stream which reflected the longing stars’ gaze at them. 
          
          Yes, even the stars yearned for their journey.

thank you for the read!

Hey ❤️ 
          Wanna be friends on spotify? 🙏 
          https://open.spotify.com/user/uywmx6h7cazrrgm93qgcouece?si=R1bSZxRwQiaotNi8sjnm8g&utm_source=copy-link

I know why the caged bird pecks 
          
          
          Once upon a time there were was a meeting of two avian friends. Pecka, a woodpecker and Swiftie, a swift.
          
          Said the swift, ‘’Pecka, its been so long since we saw each other! Why don’t you come to visit where we folks fly? You know at the bath grounds nearby ? We are having our next meeting on next summer! You should certainly come visit! How can you bear yourself cooped up in that cage of yours?”
          
          
          Pecka , replied with the food wriggling in her beak, ‘’ Swiftie! Firstly it's a delight to see you. I am much grateful for the invitation, they sound so fun too! ‘’
          
          Swiftie, continued, ‘’ yes so why are you caged up in that old trunk ?”
          
          “I could never see it as a cage Swiftie. It’s  a tree for crying out loud! How many folks I get to see there at the trunk ? Like the tree froggies, geckos and chameleons. . .’’
          
          ‘’But you never get to see me or our avian friends because that trunk has been caging you since forever!”
          
          ‘’My dear Swiftie it is so good to see you in good health, do you see me in bad health due to being caged?”
          
          Swiftie sensing the neighbouring avain friends calls, to whom she was actually visiting,  brought the convo to a close with Pecka. “You really look shrunk because of that cage, I am off to the Flyfest happening nearby—I’m going cya!” 
          Saying thus, Swiftie swiftly flew away.
          
          Pecka flew off to her trunk, to her kids waiting for the meal and her friends who weren’t avian.
          
          “Maybe someday I shall meet a birdie who don’t call this a cage, and acknowledge it as a kingdom’’ , Pecka concluded to herself.

any theologians or folks who are studying certain ancient books as a course ?
          just curious :0

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