Here I stand,
struggling with my destiny
refusing to submit to a fate
determined to drag me into anonymity

How easy is it to say,
they were meant to be Kings and Queens
when once, not long ago
they were simply just like me?

A child with a dream
A Hope, a Fire,
Burning from the inside out
for the hope to inspire
a Change in this world.
To read the Writing on the Wall
and speak up about,
the terrors that call-

An ocean sickbed,
where corpses of nature lie
of classical beauty,
an unbecoming demise.

They call me now,
a distinguished sound,
yet the problem remains
-just no one's around. 

Six of Crows- Leigh Bardugo 
Thriller, Adventure

“When everyone knows you’re a monster, you needn’t waste time doing every monstrous thing.”
In Six of Crows, The winding streets of Ketterdam carry with them mystery, deceit and half-truths; where gangs squabble over the ever-flowing coin of tourists, and trade happens in everything from flowers to flesh. A den of vice and not nearly enough virtue is where the story of Kaz Brekker opens. Seventeen year old Dirtyhands, infamous for a lack of conscience and no job being too immoral for the right price. Kaz is a cripple, a boy whose backstory is as gruesome as the crimes he commits; simply the perfect antihero to lead a heist into one of the most ancient strongholds to retrieve a valuable prisoner. A canal rat, governed by nothing more than vengeance and spite unites a crew whose abilities make the grand infiltration possible. 

Kaz and his crew are all driven by unique motivations...

Six of Crows- Leigh Bardugo 
Thriller, Action, Adventure
13+

“When everyone knows you’re a monster, you needn’t waste time doing every monstrous thing.”
In Six of Crows, The winding streets of Ketterdam carry with them mystery, deceit and half-truths; where gangs squabble over the ever-flowing coin of tourists and trade happens in everything from flowers to flesh. A den of vice and not nearly enough virtue is where the story of Kaz Brekker opens. Seventeen year old Dirtyhands, infamous for his lack of conscience and no job being too immoral for the right price. Kaz is a cripple, a boy whose backstory is as gruesome as the crimes he is willing to commit; he is the perfect antihero to lead a heist into one of the most ancient strongholds to retrieve a valuable prisoner. A criminal whose only cause is himself, governed by nothing more than vengeance and spite unites a crew whose abilities make the grand infiltration possible. 
...

Nostalgia hit Gabriel like a punch to the gut. The willows with broken tree branches grew close together, friends leaning against one another, as if to protect their secrets from strangers. The air carried with it the hint of smoke, the remnant of fires that had long since burned down everything familiar to him once. Peculiar signs of spring blossomed throughout the underbrush, vivid greens and yellows, off-putting in the eerie domain of the Badlands. A breeze played in the air, rustling the long hanging boughs, a cacophony of noise in this quiet, cryptic wood. The noises became deafening; Gabriel's demons demanded an answer. 

Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. The impassable distance between seashore and shipside contain within them unspoken hopes and desires, the mirror of one's very soul. Yet, Dean knew that this time the sirensong of the sea was not merely an illusion. He knew that upon that boat, upon that majestic steamship heading through the great waters of the Atlantic to the British Isles, he would find the one thing he had been searching his whole life for. Purpose.
    Dean knew, even as he tucked his stolen hat low over his eyes, that this was a life he deserved, not the conniving businessman whose name Dean was assuming to get on the ship. No, this was Dean's chance at a new life, he was not going to let something of little significance as decency stop him. That was the mistake many made; when the world did not bless you with the privilege of luck, you...

रुनझुन  (RuNjhUN): A word encapsulating the secret melody music carries

रुनझुन  is a word that has no parallel in English, one could say it is almost an onomatopoeia in a sense; holding within it the true capacity and value of music to an Indian. Ruhnjun is a word that speaks to the foundation of movement for my people, our connection to the natural world, and our connection to each other. It is a word that holds within it the kick of the base and the pull of a violin; the leap of a kathak dancer and the warmth of fresh jalebi on a grey day. Ruhnjun calls to the faint memories of my childhood, drifting off to music at night. Yet it also speaks to the me of today, the dancer moving to the melody of her own music.रुनझुन, as far as I travel, I will never lose that memory of music, played under the watchful moon, stars spanning the...

रुनझुन  (RuNjhUN): A word encapsulating the secret melody music carries

रुनझुन  is a word that has no parallel in English, one could say it is almost an onomatopoeia in a sense; holding within it the true capacity and value of music to an Indian. Ruhnjun is a word that speaks to the foundation of movement for my people, our connection to the natural world, and our connection to each other. It is a word that holds within it the kick of the base and the pull of a violin; the leap of a kathak dancer and the warmth of fresh jalebi on a grey day. Ruhnjun calls to the faint memories of my childhood, drifting off to music at night. Yet it also speaks to the me of today, the dancer moving to the melody of her own music.रुनझुन, as far as I travel, I will never lose that memory of music, played under the night sky, stars spanning the...

My song: Black Swan (Orchestra version)- BTS

We all have an inner compass, a piece of our very soul that pulls us through every day of existence, a spiritual guide for our blind eyes to see beyond what is directly in front of us. This compass points us to pieces of art that are mirrors of our very selves, paintings and writings and music that reflects our own needs and wants and desires. It is this inner spiritual compass of mine that pulls me to this melancholic masterpiece- Black Swan. A fitting title for a song that is both beautiful and peculiar, like violet irises or blue moons. This symphony of strings and drums and the magnificent voices of each member guides me through my days, holds my hand in the deepest, most isolated part of my being. I close my eyes and I feel my sense of faulty reality slip away as my mind embarks on a journey far...

    The wind carried with it the phantom smell of smoke. Every damned soul foolish enough to wander these silent lands between the mountains of the north and the wastes of the south knew that the fires had burned themselves out long ago. Strange markers of life were all that remained. Between the ashes of the city and forgotten screams of the dead, pieces of life remained unbroken. Patches of cloth burned through sparingly, pieces of a table that must have seated plenty. She walked among the ruins, a trespasser like the many before her, trying to find the cause of such great flames. Whispers flitted from ear to ear from the towns miles away- of gods and divine judgment, of demons and wicked fires, of madmen burning everything to the ground. Each could have been as true as the last for all she cared. Ashes were ashes regardless of who burned their predecessors. She walked further into the...

    My hand scrambled over the hilltop, earth and soil crumbling away as my broken nails sought purchase. I felt the weight of my body pulling me down, but I managed to push my other arm over the hill and drag myself up. I lay their for a moment and let the events of the night wash over me. Brash yelling under the familiar lights of home, the frantic call to get out and running chased by a faceless creature through the treacherous forest.
    Lights. Follow the Lights. 
    That was what the voice on the other side of the landline had said before going dead. When the scratching and pounding at the front door began, I had little choice left. The lights were strange, how they could be seen across an entire forest was a feat that seemed impossible. Even as I lay their with my eyes closed and breath catching in my chest, they penetrated my eyelids...

“But why would you stay?” Clover asked, her voice barely a whisper above the hum of the forest “The gates were never closed, you could have left any-“ Reia cut her off with a slight shake of her head. “There are some burdens we bear not because they are crushing, but because our shoulders have been empty for far too long. I stayed because I had to take responsibility for you. I had to.”

Recently, I have been wondering about the phrase ‘Nature vs. Nurture’. I have been questioning how much of my personality- as I am at this very moment- is due to outside influence, and how much of it is wholly unabashedly me. There are parts of myself I am sure are byproducts of my upbringing in a Western society- things such as my language, look and worldview. However, how much of who I am as a human are parts that I would have grown to be had I been brought up in any other society? What would have been if the feminist fire in my veins? What of the ambitions and aspirations that I have today- would they have been different or mirror the ones I have now? Who would I be if circumstances were different and new? I would not be who I am today and that is a fact because as much as we would all like to...

Home for me is not a place, rather it is a feeling. It is the moment when I stand in front of my group, my team, my fellow humans and laugh. It is when I deliver the joyous news of a victory or a job well done. I am a person who likes to lead. When we are set a task and we have to deliver upon that, I am the person who steps up. Delegating tasks, organizing a plan and boosting morale are all tools in the belt of a leader. All necessary, but like everything- best in moderation. I feel at home when my team is working, when I check everyone’s tasks to make sure we’re up to speed and the elation we feel after finishing. I feel at home after a job well done, high fives shared and smiles exchanged.



That is my home.

Harry Potter received his letter 
Katniss Everdeen volunteered
Tessa Grey stepped into the Dark Sisters coach
Julian Blackthorn and Emma Cartairs felt the burn of the Parabatai rune
Tiberius Calore gave Mare Barrow a silver coin
Starr Carter cried for Khalil Harris 
Kaz Brekker floated his way through the harbor with Jordie

Small
        moments
                      tip
                           the 
                                 scales.
 

If you ever find yourself bored with reality and looking to take part in an enthralling escapade into a fictional land, I would recommended to you 'Six of Crows'. The dusty streets of Ketterdam carry with them mystery, blood and ashes. It is a city where trying to keep your wits about you is almost as hard as trying to safeguard your wallet.

The brilliant author Leigh Bardugo focused her story on a cast of 6 misfit characters- each carrying with them enough baggage to fill all the boats in the harbor with jurda shipments. We have our main demjin Kaz Brekker- a teenage gang leader with no taste for mercy and lovable nicknames like 'Dirtyhands' and 'Bastard of the Barrel'. Then we have Inej- Kaz's right hand woman with silent feet and a mind of faith. Jesper- our tall, brown and conspicuous sharpshooter with a chronic gambling problem. Wylan- our bombs expert who lucked out in artistic ability but...

If you ever find yourself bored with reality and looking to take part in an enthralling escapade into a fictional land, I would recommended to you 'Six of Crows'. The dusty streets of Ketterdam carry with them mystery, blood and ashes. It is a city where trying to keep your wits about you is almost as hard as trying to safeguard your wallet.

The brilliant author Leigh Bardugo focused her story on a cast of 6 misfit characters- each carrying with them enough baggage to fill all the boats in the harbor with jurda shipments. We have our main demjin Kaz Brekker- a teenage gang leader with no taste for mercy and lovable nicknames like 'Dirtyhands' and 'Bastard of the Barrel'. Then we have Inej- Kaz's right hand woman with silent feet and a mind of faith. Jesper- our tall, brown and conspicuous sharpshooter with a chronic gambling problem. Wylan- our bombs expert who lucked out in artistic ability but...

Jeryulium: home to all wanderers and lost souls. It is not a city that is attached to the ground, it is a city that is as lost as its residents. Sometimes materializing as a couple farmhouses by the country road and sometimes as entire empires, it is a city that is known by all who wish to leave the familiar behind. There are no permanent residents here; no one can stay past two nights and those who try will find themselves awaken in a mossy underbrush instead of a pillow and blankets. Those who manage to find it once, will never be able to find it again; with a blink of the eye it is gone. However, none of the creatures who inhabit the land, ever seem to forget it. In a corner of their mind, they always seem to remember a word spoken with an edge of peculiarity: Jeryulium.

The most remarkable thing about Alexa was not her eyes or her hair or her face, her mother would have said-it was her affinity for leading a life of paradoxes. She was always tall but never domineering; she hated her english classes but had always loved writing. However the most important one it seemed, was the fact that Alexa loved singing but was born deaf.
Her mother was heartbroken initially, after hearing her daughter sing for the first time. Yet, she was never one to take circumstance to heart and started off her child’s life with a tone that would dictate the rest: a light-hearted joke. ‘My baby, you have been born in this world with a great burden off your shoulders! Your poor ears will never have to suffer through the pain of endless lectures.’ Young Alexa would laugh and giggle, never knowing quite what her mother meant.
    She grew up living life as a normal child would-...

New Years always calls for resolutions. Changes we hope to make within ourselves in the coming year. To work out or to study more or to go out into the world. This year, mine is to write more and write well. To try and capture the journey of my life and the journeys in my mind in ink and letters.

Here’s to a new year of growth, improvement and hardwork. All the best in any resolutions you wish to make :) 2019 here we come.

As we head into the new year,
I encourage you 
to look around.

At the vast sky,
or the dark clouds
at the green grass
or the white ground 

I encourage you,
to feel and think and breathe
to remember and reminisce
to exist, to be

But most of all,
I encourage you
to look around,
at the people who stand by you

In the coming year,
you could lose some  
you could gain some.

So hold on tight,
as we brace ourselves,
and step into
The Unknown

Merry Christmas everyone! (And for those who don’t celebrate, Happy Tuesday! :D) 

I hope all of you have an amazing one surrounded by friends, family and fellow human beings who bring you joy ! 

‘My music is my very soul, captured within little harmonies.’

1) Shut up and dance- Walk the Moon
This song holds so much nostalgia from my past. ‘Oh don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me. I said you’re holdin back, she said SHUT UP AND DANCE WITH ME..’

2) Counting Stars- One Republic
The first song I ever listened to in our beautiful language. ‘Lately I been, I been losin sleep. Dreaming about the things that we could be.’

3) Airplane Pt.2- BTS
A song that talks about staying humble even when you’ve got your head in the clouds. How even when you’re on top of the world, things can still fall apart: “One day it works out too well, then the next day I’m completely screwed.”

4)High Hopes- Panic! at the disco
A song about having high hopes for yourself and dreaming big no matter what: ‘Always knew I’d be...

    A sense of anticipation holds the city tightly. Christmas creeps around the corner, subtly surrounding the city's subconsciousness. First, its Christmas lights around lamp poles glowing at midnight like rows of multicolored will-o-the-wisps. Then, it's the wreaths and stockings that seem to appear at every door one visits. Next, the usual songs by Ariana Grande and Camilla Cabello in shops are replaced by Mariah Carey and Partridges in Pear trees. Christmas has come.

    All the eye can see for miles and miles is white. The snow once begun, never shows any sign of relenting till the new year. It comes down in sheets, blanketing the city and dampening everything but the peoples spirits. For the positivity in the air is practically palpable. Smiles light the faces of most and a chorus of laughter mingles with the chorus of carols being sung. There is a single street in the heart of downtown, cobbled and with shops on...

We have been taught that at a young age, our opinions are invalid.

We have been taught that just because someone has lived longer, they are wiser and stronger and that their opinion matters much, much more than ours. That just because we are younger, we simply cannot fathom the depths of their intelligence and would be fools to even attempt to do so. Brushed aside with shhs and let the adults speak, we are dismissed.

We the youth, stand today to reject that philosophy.

We live in a world where information is as readily available as bread, yet even though we have the tools, people fail to understand that we have ideas too. Ideas are not products that have limited stock, they are limitless and boundless and free to any who choose to open their minds to the unknown. While decisions about our planet, our future are decided in court rooms and government buildings, we live inside walls of...

We have been taught that at a young age, our opinions are invalid.

We have been taught that just because someone has lived longer, they are wiser and stronger and that their opinion matters much, much more than ours. That just because we are younger, we simply cannot fathom the depths of their intelligence and would be fools to even attempt to do so. Brushed aside with shhs and let the adults speak, we are dismissed.

We the youth, stand today to reject that philosophy.

We live in a world where information is as readily available as bread, yet even though we have the tools, people fail to understand that we have ideas too. Ideas are not products that have limited stock, they are limitless and boundless and free to any who choose to open their minds to the unknown. While decisions about our planet, our future are decided in court rooms and government buildings, we live inside walls of...

We have been taught since a young age that our opinions are invalid. We have been taught that just because someone has lived longer, they are wiser and stronger and that their opinion matters much, much more than ours. That just because we are younger, we simply cannot fathom the depths of their intelligence and would be fools to even attempt to do so. Brushed aside with shhs and let the adults speak we are dismissed.

We the youth, stand today to reject that philosophy.

We live in a world where information is as readily available as bread, yet even though we have the tools, people fail to understand that we have ideas too. Ideas are not a product that have limited stock, they are limitless and boundless and free to any who chooses to open their minds to the unknown. While decisions about our planet, our future are decided in court rooms and government buildings, we live inside walls...

Rays of sunlight dance
Flowers shine, golden halos
Mother Nature smiles

•  What do you most value about Write the World? 

I definitely value the atmosphere of unbiased feedback from other writers and editors from around the world. It gives us a sense of community as well as helping us improve in writing.

• What would you like to see Write the World do differently?

Maybe creating a Write the World app would be helpful. As a lot of writers are generally on their phones and other devices it would be much easier to have it in a way that doesn't require us to sign in every time.

• Are there any changes you would make to the site?

Honestly, I wouldn't. I think that everything we have so far is pretty great.

• What types of prompts or competitions would you like to see more of?

The website could definitely benefit from having some more essay writing prompts about current issues.

• How could we encourage more peer reviewing? What would make you write peer...

    When you toss a pebble into a still pond, ripples originate from the point of contact and reverberate outwards. They change the once smooth exterior into one of motion and movement. Moments in our lives can arguably do the same thing. One individual Moment can alter our simple, uncomplicated lives forever. 

    For me, one of these Moments happened within my first grade classroom at the local elementary school. I was the new girl and paired with my old shy, quiet demeanor, I didn't exactly scream 'Popular'- maybe it didn't help that I also couldn't understand the very language being spoken. Regardless, for the first little while, I happily found solace in solitude and tried to understand what was happening in the class. We had a little easel in the front with activities, and one was 'Free Writing'. My Moment was during that period when I put my bitten No. 2 Pencil to the piece of loose leaf and wrote down a...

Life, they say is measured in moments rather than minutes. A collection of quintessential moments that shape you into who you are could be considered the basis of your life. A DNA of sorts, created by nurture rather than nature.

For me, one of these Moments happened within my first grade classroom at the local Elementary School. I was the new girl; and paired with my old shy, quiet demeanor, I didn't exactly scream 'Popular'- maybe it didn't help that I also couldn't understand the very language being spoken. Regardless, for the first little while, I happily found solace in solitude and tried to understand what was happening in the class. We had a little white easel in the front with the days activities, and one of them was 'Free Writing'. 

My Moment was during that period when I put my already bitten No. 2 Pencil to the piece of loose leaf and wrote down a story idea. At that...

    Life they say, is measured in moments rather than minutes; a collection of quintessential moments that shape you into who you are as a human being is the very makeup of what we are and grow to be. A DNA formed rather by nurture than nature if you will.

    For me, one of these moments happened in the classroom of my first year at the local Elementary School in the heart of downtown; I was the cliché shy new kid, and didn't speak to anyone for a few days-perhaps it didn't help that I did not understand the very language that was being spoken. I spoke a different language and that was lonely until I met a girl with long brown hair and kind eyes who spoke both the one I knew and the one I ought to learn. Our classroom had a red and white easel that held the days activities; as of now I can only recount two:...