the prisoner of sand castle 8

the prisoner of sand castle

Sharmishtha Basu is an unemployed artist, writer who is out to test her works, eagerly looking for publishers, publicists, literary agents and huge hearted generous readers, to see if they can help her to build an “unorthodox” career, a path followed by many before, some has been blessed with success, most have not, let us see what you make of her attempts! A failure or success- it all depends on you. These are pieces from her book, the book is available on createspace and amazon- This book is of course a collection of fantasy stories, starting from ghosts, demons, aliens to fairies and mermaids.

The prisoner of sand castle

The prisoner of sand castle
piece 3

It seemed Dyuti had some invisible connection to storms.

That night when the storm raged her foster parents were reminded of the night when Dyuti’s mother entered their lives.

Morning came and they became busy, cleaning up the debris left by the storm.

Dyuti headed for the beach after helping them for a while, that girl was so attached to the ocean that her foster parents called her sea turtle.

She did not return.

When she failed to show up for the lunch her foster father went looking for her, there was no sign of her, he looked everywhere, the island was not that big but there was no sign of her.

They combed the island but the girl was nowhere.

They realized the thing that her mother has warned them against has happened; she has fallen in the hands of her father’s enemies.

They gathered in a hall, discussing, trying to find a way to find her and bring her back.

Dyuti was standing on the deck of a huge ship, heading further away from the island. She was watching the activities on the ship with amazed eyes.

A handsome man was standing beside her, with a big smile on his face.

People like us, experienced in human ways will instantly certify that man as a shrewd man but Dyuti was too innocent to know anything about such men. All she has seen was the very best of human nature.

When she came to the beach on the morning she met this man. He was sitting on a rock, holding his head.



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