Stories are not just a creation of writers but it is a part of their souls. Stories of happiness and sorrows, stories of victory and failure, of breakups and togetherness come together and forms a fully painted picture. Thus, giving a meaning to that soul. Stories happen each day and each moment. Each and every day if planned gives us a well planned and formatted story and if it not planned then gives an accidental planned picture which gives birth to uncalled events. Those events delight us or gives us an unpleasant surprises. As it has bits and pieces of every emotions that are tied together in a string, it stands tall and lofty to get noticed. Some days are like sunshine which glows and some are like dark tunnel which has seamless darkness spreading shadows of hope. stories pave the way to our heart and brings a smile to our faces but some gets into our nerves waiting to be erased from our heart and mind. Stories are smaller constituents of our souls which forms a bigger part called life. Characters of the stories build the plot and make it strong. At the same time, the stories give each character a defined role to play and grow in that territory, also to carve a niche in whaterver role they are offered. they give each character a sense of identity and purpose which holds together. They give them a gripping part to play and rule. Life is to be created into a story and stories give life - a life and heart.
“I wanted to tell Mama that it did feel different to be back, that our living room had too much empty space, too much wasted marble floor that gleamed from Sisi’s polishing and housed nothing. Our celing was too high. Our furniture was lifeless: the glass tables did not shed twisted skin in the harmattan, the leather sofas’ greeting was a clammy coldness, and the Persian rugs were too lush to have any feeling. But I said, “You polished the etagere.” " The above text appears when Jaja and Kambili return from Nsukku, their Aunty Ifeoma’s house, and witness their place as dull and lacking warmth even though the house glistened like a palace. The warmth that Aunty Ifeoma’s house had carried during the days they spent despite having a nondescript house and where they prayed every day for Peace and Laughter. Laughter among all the things. Because Laughter was valued in their house everyday despite living with shortcomings something that Kambili hardly got to experience in own h
Beautifully written.A new insight into stories Thanks
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