"I love you, Amrita!" Advait exclaimed loudly."Advait, shhhh! Everyone's sleeping," Amrita whisper-yelled."Then admit it!" Advait urged, raising his voice.Amrita sighed but smiled. "Fine! I love you too," she conceded. Advait let out a triumphant yell and scooped her up, and Amrita laughed in his warm embrace.________"The court acknowledges Mr. Advait Mehra and Mrs. Amrita Rao's 10-year marriage and their efforts to reconcile, and therefore, grants their divorce."

A single tear escaped Amrita's eyeAdvait, closed his eyes in defeat

A heavy silence hanging in the courtroom and someone whispered, "They were supposed to make it."

Mud and Twig, a young pair of siblings flee their home after it is attacked by dogs and their family is murdered. The pair travel through the lands in search for a new forest to call home. Along the way they meet other cats and form friendships. They meet a cat who tells them the tale of 4 great clans. Inspired by this story the pair decide to start their own clan....and so the story begins...

----NOTES----

!!!!I DO NOT OWN WARRIORS. WARRIORS IS OWNED BY ERIN HUNTER!!!! !!!!All the characters mentioned in this story are owned by @H.L.A.G!!!!!

(This is also posted on wattpad!)

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SHOW COMMENTS (1)

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What’s your name? My mama doesn’t know, and I asked her to ask your mama, but she said she doesn’t want to go anywhere near your house. I told her that’s mean because she doesn’t know you. None of us do. I’ve only seen you from across the street. You have black hair, and it’s very dark, which is why I call you Raven. If you tell me your real name I will use it.

Is black your favorite color? You wear it a lot. I’ve never seen you wear anything but that black dress with the poofy sleeves and lacy collar. Or are you sad because someone in your family has died? My mama said that black is a color for being sad, and for funerals. I’ve never been to one. My favorite color is all of them.

Do you go to school? I’ve never seen you there, and I think there’s only one. Do you have many friends? I have lots. They wave at me when they see me and say hi when I’m walking down the street. Sometimes I forget their names, so I make up names in my head, like there’s this red-haired girl I call Poppy, and this boy who only brings peanut butter and honey sandwiches for lunch, so I call him Honey, because the peanut butter isn’t the unusual part. His hair is also yellow like honey.

What do you eat for lunch? I don’t think it would be peanut butter and honey sandwiches. I imagine you eating raspberries.

Tell me what your name is so I can use it.

Sincerely,

Robin

P.S. Did I spell that word right? Sincerely?I asked my mama how to spell it but I don’t think she’s very good at that sort of thing.

Dear Robin,

I’ve seen you across the street too. You live in a white house with light blue shutters. Your screen door is white metal bent into a bunch of nice-looking old shapes. I can hear when someone lets it go and it slams against the door frame.

Did you know you have a bird’s nest in your rain gutter? It’s a blackbird, I think.

I don’t have a favorite color. I do have a favorite dress, and it is black. My mother says it looks very well with my hair and that it makes my eyes look like sea glass. She wants to take me to the sea.

Black is a color for being sad. I am not sad.

I don’t go to school. My mother teaches me things. She taught me to read and write and do math. After we’re done I go to the park and sit on the swings. The left one, not the right. I watch leaves fall from the trees. I don’t have any friends, because no one talks to me. I’ve seen the boy you call Honey at the park; I know because sometimes he doesn’t finish his peanut butter and honey sandwich and he eats the rest of it on the bench. I can always smell it from the swings.

I don’t eat peanut butter and honey sandwiches. I don’t eat raspberries either.

Also sincerely,

Raven

P.S. You did spell it right.

Dear Raven,

A bird’s nest! I must find it right away!

I don’t know what sea glass is, but that’s okay. If I get to look at your eyes one day and see what color they are, then I will know. You should go with your mama to the sea. I bet you would like it. Then you must come home and write me a letter all about it. You must tell me what kinds of birds live there so I can tell Honey. He likes birds, and they like him.

I also have a favorite dress. It is a lot like yours, only it’s white.

Your mama is your teacher? Does she know everything too? My mama says she knows everything, and that I should listen to her because of it. I wonder if it is better not to go to school. We sometimes have to hide under our desks and put our arms over our necks, or huddle in a corner with the lights off and stay very quiet. I bet you don’t do those things. They don’t sound so bad, but every once in a while one of the other kids cries and the teacher has to give them a lollipop.

I was going to ask why no one talks to you, but then I remembered that I don’t either. I write you letters. That makes me cowardly.

I don’t recommend trying to talk to Honey; he doesn’t speak much. Why don’t you eat raspberries? Have you tried them? I think you would like them.

You signed your letter Raven.I know that’s not your name. If it’s a secret, you can tell me. I won’t tell anyone.

Yours truly,

Robin

P.S. My mama said yours trulyis how grownups end letters to friends.

Dear Robin,

Sea glass is glass made round and soft by the sea. They look like stones of pretty colors. My mother has a piece that she found when she was a girl on her first trip to the beach. It is the color of mint.

If I go to the sea, I will tell you about it.

My mother is my teacher. She doesn’t know everything. No one does. Indeed, we don’t do those things; hiding under tables or in corners.

You are not a coward. Speaking to me is something everyone is afraid to do. It doesn’t mean good things. I don’t have friends.

No one wants to keep my company.

Sincerely,

Raven

Dearest Raven,

I am confused. I don’t believe you’ve never had a friend. What could be so scary about you? Everyone is afraid of something, but that something isn’t always you.

Besides, I am your friend.

I found the bird’s nest you told me about. I climbed out of my bedroom window and had to kind of shimmy down the roof to get to it. Roofs are made of weird stuff. But I got to it and I looked real close at it. It’s got three eggs in it, and they’re this wonderful greenish-blue color that I didn’t know the name of until you described sea glass to me, and now I think about your eyes being the same color of those eggs, and your hair the same color as the bird who made them.

I lost my balance and fell off the roof, but it’s okay because I landed in a bush. It was quite funny.

My mama told me I’m going to have a little sister. I got excited, but she said it will be a while. I don’t know where they get little sisters, but it must not be very close by if it takes nine months for them to arrive. When I said that to my mama she just laughed. I told her the blackbird on the roof is having all of its children at the same time, and she said she wasn’t that unlucky.

I tried a peanut butter and honey sandwich the other day, you know, and I think Honey might be on to something.

You keep saying sincerely, Raven.Do you not want to tell me your name? I will keep asking.

Yours truly,

Robin

***

Dear Robin,

I’m sorry.

I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. I know it’s been a while. I finally went to the sea; my mother took me. It was very windy, and the air tasted like salt and there were seagulls calling everywhere. I found seashells in lots of different shapes, and sand dollars too. I found you the perfect piece of sea glass; I will put it in the letter with a sand dollar, because I think you’d really like sand dollars. I learned that I don’t like wet sand, and that the ocean is very cold. There was a woman there with a little plastic bag, and she sprinkled some gray stuff into the water. There was a very old man with a cane and a younger man holding his arm. The old man couldn’t walk very well. The younger man looked very sad.

Robin, I’m sorry, I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t want to keep secrets from you anymore, but I still do.

You scared me, in your last letter, when you said you fell off your roof. It was a new feeling; I’m not used to fear like this, fear based in affection. I did not know what to do, so I ran away.

You called yourself my friend. You climbed onto your roof to see a bird’s nest I told you about. You keep asking for my name.

It’s funny, you know; I have been given so much attention in concept, but never in truth. I’ve never had anyone be so interested in me before.

And that’s the problem. Look what I’ve made you do. You fell off your roof because of a bird’s nest that I told you about. You say you were fine, but what if you weren’t? People don’t get close to me safely. There’s a reason I don’t have friends, Robin. But I want to keep talking to you. You’re my friend, but I don’t know how to be yours.

I don’t know what to do.

What does your mother say? Apparently she knows everything.

Sincerely,

Raven

P.S. Do you not know where babies come from?

My dearest Raven,

It was very nice to see your letter on my doorstep after all this time. I was worried when you did not respond. I wondered if I scared you, and then I told myself that was foolish because nothing scares you, but it seems I was wrong.

I didn’t think I was your first friend. I didn’t think you’d worry about me. That is new to me as well. My mom doesn’t usually worry because I don’t ever actually hurt myself, I just like to climb over things and under things and through things. I’ve never thought to be careful for the sake of someone else.

Apparently the concept of you is as new to me as I am to you.

I’ve been back on the roof many times since then and I haven’t fallen again. The eggs hatched, and now I can hear chirping outside my window. I took some of the broken pieces. I will give you the biggest one, because I think it’s a nice thing to have. Tell me if it matches your eyes.

I asked my mom how to do something when you have good reasons to be afraid to do it. She said if it will make me happy it will erase my fear.

You want to be a good friend to me? You’ve given me things that I already like more than my favorite dress. You are a different kind of person to me than anyone I know. You could only be a better friend if you give me your last secret. You say you can’t keep secrets from me anymore, and you still haven’t told me your name.

Yours forever,

Robin

P. S. I had my mom make the piece of sea glass into a necklace so I can wear it all the time. And you’re right, I do love the sand dollar. I promise I’ll never spend it.

Dearest Robin,

I saw one of you the other day. Did you know that robins are heralds of spring? Of new life? Somehow I feel like spring is your favorite season. Is that why you call yourself Robin?

Don’t ask for my last secret when you haven’t given me yours.

The eggshell piece was a very nice gift, thank you. It is a strangely beautiful thing that comes from such an ordinary and common bird. The color is very like my eyes, but it is too dark. Imagine that turquoise but lighter, and you’ve got it. You know, I’ve never asked you what color your eyes are.

I think your mother is right. But I don’t think the fear ever leaves you. Maybe that is why I hid things from you. Why I still do. I tell myself that it’s because you are just as guilty as I am, but maybe I am just making excuses. What do I have to lose in being honest with you?

Really, Robin. What will I lose?

Sincerely,

Raven

P. S. There was a bit of red on the sharp edges of the eggshell. Were you not careful?

Dear sly Raven,

What told you that I have secrets from you? Was I not the first to reach out? Was I not the first to write a letter?

I do really enjoy springtime. Especially when the cherry trees blossom and birds are singing every morning. The robins were my first friends, I think.

Thank you for the very clear image of your eyes. Now I can imagine your face when I write these words to you. I would wonder why we haven’t spoken in person, when only the street separates us, but I think we both already know.

My eyes are hazel, greener in the center. Does that surprise you? I was surprised to learn your eyes aren’t gray, or black.

With complete sincerity I tell you that you can be honest with me. We are not enemies, Raven. We are anything but strangers. We are friends. That is not a lie. I think you know perfectly well why I first called you Raven, and it is not because you are exactly how I pictured Annabel Lee.

Will I go first, or will you? I can help you out. You don’t have a mother, do you?

Yours still,

Robin

P. S. Yes, I cut my finger on the eggshell. It was sharper than I thought. Leave me alone.

Dear deceptive Robin,

How well you’ve come to know me. I honestly wonder what it was that made you write to me first. Very well, I will grant your wishes. I will comply with your whims, as has been the theme of our correspondence.

The robins were your first friends? I suppose that’s the one thing we have in common.

Your eyes do not surprise me. They suit you. I would eventually like to have this conversation in person, but alas it is not a perfect world.

You are right. I do not have a mother. I couldn’t have a mother. I live alone in my big old house because everything around me dies and I disguise myself as a child because it makes people less afraid of me. What is your excuse?

You are also right that we are far from strangers. We are enemies and partners, according to all the philosophers and the priests and the poets, all the p’s. They would have us wound each other and then take turns cleaning each other’s blood. Perhaps we were friends far sooner than we realized.

When did you realize? I’ve been here a long time. I remember when you moved in across the street. What took you so long?

My very last secret, I’ll give it up to you, even though you’ve promised me nothing in return.

I don’t have a name. Only the ones everybody knows me by.

Finally yours,

D ---

P. S. Annabel Lee? A girl after my own heart.

My dear philosophical friend,

We have more in common than birds.

I don’t know, I suppose I finally found the latest hidey-hole of yours and thought, why not get to know you better? We’ve been in it for the long haul, and it’s not going to end anytime soon.

Everything around you dies? Everything around me grows.

I know where babies come from; I wanted to see if you’d play along. Have to say though, I don’t have a dad, so I don’t know where my mom got the other half of that baby.

You turned out to be much more giving than I knew you to be. I have treasures now because of you.

Despite what you think, I have no secrets from you. You’ve cracked all my codes yourself. I never lied to you.

I don’t know why I truly thought you had a name. I don’t have one either! I like the ones we came up with for this. Could I keep calling you Raven? This is a game we could keep playing. When we grow up we’ll move to another little town and do it all over again. There’s a strangely satisfying longing in something fleeting.

Call me Robin, and I’ll call you Raven, and we’ll fly away together.

Eternally yours,

L ---Dear Robin,

chinadi cheneduj kumari pathalCHINADU CHENEDUN  #CHINADU CHENEDUN# chinadi cheneduj kumari pathal​​​​​​​CHINADU CHENEDUN  #CHINADU CHENEDUN#chinadi cheneduj kumari pathal​​​​​​​CHINADU CHENEDUN  #CHINADU CHENEDUN#chinadi cheneduj kumari pathal​​​​​​​ chinadi cheneduj kumari pathal​​​​​​​CHINADU CHENEDUN  #CHINADU CHENEDUN#chinadi cheneduj kumari pathal​​​​​​​CHINADU CHENEDUN chinadi cheneduj kumari pathal #CHINADU CHENEDUN#​​​​​​​CHINADU CHENEDUN  #CHINADU CHENEDUN# chinadi cheneduj kumari pathal

CHINADU CHENEDUN  #CHINADU CHENEDUN#CHINADU CHENEDUN chinadi cheneduj kumari pathal​​​​​​​

Music

Music is a vital part of different moments of human life. It gives happiness and joy in a person’s life. This makes it the soul of life and gives us peace. It is a nice sound that is a blend of melodies and balances that calms you.  This may also refer to the art of make up such pleasant sounds with the help of various  instruments. Its ability to excite, heal, and bring joy is unique, making it an important part of our daily experiences.

Importance of Music:

Effects of Music

The Various types of sound on people are there in many views:-

Essence of life.

Everything that has rhythm has music. Our breathing also has a rhythm. Thus, we can say that there is music in every human being or living creature. Song can convey all sorts of emotions to people. Melody is also a very powerful means of connecting with God. We can conclude that tune is the purest form of worship of God and of connecting with our soul.

Medical Benefits

One of the amazing aspects of songs is its ability to heal and soothe. It can provide comfort during difficult times, offering a form of therapy for those who listen or create it. Many find solace in melodies, using music as an escape from their worries and a way to achieve a sense of peace and calmness. It can also foster creativity and self-expression, allowing people to know their emotions and feels through writing and performance.

Numerous styles

India is a country of variation. Some of them are Classical, Pop, Ghazals, Bhajans, and Carnatic. Musical styles are extremely various with genres like classical, jazz, rock, pop, and folk starting from different regions and cultures around the world. Each style has its features instruments, and histories, contributing to the rich human look. Whether it's the difficult rhythms of Indian classical tunes or the catchy hooks of pop songs, sound reflects the diversity of human life and creativity.

Use in Society

Sound has social and popular aspects; indeed, it often unites people during celebrations, ceremonies, and groups. Furthermore, it promotes connections and creates shared feels between individuals. It's a powerful tool for bringing communities together; moreover, it increases shared experiences and celebrates cultural heritage. For instance, from weddings to protests, song serves as a backdrop for important moments in life.

Conclusion

Songs is the art of arranging sounds, typically involving melody, unity, rhythm, and expressive elements. It is a means of personal expression, cultural saving and communication that has been present in human societies throughout history. Music surrounds various genres and styles, played on diverse instruments or using the human voice. It can raise emotions, convey messages, and provide entertainment.

The Lost Patriot follows Professor Harshad Mehta, a devoted Indian independence activist who seizes an unexpected opportunity to fake his death in 1946 when authorities close in on his underground network. Assuming the identity of Ahmed Khan, he builds a quiet new life in what he doesn't realize has become Pakistan after partition.

Set against the tumultuous backdrop of the Indian subcontinent's division, this poignant historical drama explores the profound irony of a freedom fighter who misses witnessing the very independence he fought for. As Ahmed establishes himself as a respected bookkeeper in a small Pakistani village, his rescue of a stray cat leads to a meaningful connection with Fatima, a local widow, and her children.

His carefully constructed world unravels when he gradually discovers the stunning truth: India achieved independence in 1947, but was partitioned into two nations along religious lines—the very division he and his fellow activists had fought against. Faced with the choice to reclaim his true identity or embrace his new life, Harshad/Ahmed must reconcile his revolutionary past with his peaceful present.

The Lost Patriot is a moving exploration of identity, purpose, and belonging that asks whether a person's significance lies in their name and achievements or in the quiet dignity of the life they build and the connections they forge.

In the heart of San Remigio, where rolling hills meet sun-kissed orchards, twelve-year-old Lila finds solace and adventure amidst her grandmother's sprawling peach farm. The annual harvest brings more than just sweet fruit; it brings Rafael, a traveler with kind eyes and a warm smile, into her life. As their bond deepens, whispers of strange occurrences in the surrounding hills begin to surface, stirring old tales of restless spirits and guardians of the land. When a mysterious figure emerges from the shadows, threatening the peace of the orchard, Lila and Rafael must confront the secrets hidden within the ancient trees. Their love, tested by fear and uncertainty, becomes intertwined with the fate of the orchard, leading them on a path of discovery, danger, and the unveiling of a magic far deeper than they ever imagined.

© FLUFFENDREAM 2025. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The views and opinions expressed in this book are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of any other person or entity.

❝ 𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧, 𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗝𝗘𝗦𝗨𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗘𝗖𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗖𝗔𝗞𝗘 ❞

━ rickey, the adoptee, finally lands in the small town of thornwood bridge. his "father" moves the three of them along with his new wife and daughter to the new place.

rickey remains indifferent as he hopes for a change in his father's personality, yet billy believes his brother is foolish. however when he goes exploring one night, he encounters a strange girl dressed like bubblegum *･῾ ᵎ

inspired by :stranger thingsyellow cab mv by dpr live ( dabin )

This is a cute fan fictional story

Y/n=your name

I are 5th member of black pink, u took inspiration from BTS,

Jisoo

Jenny

Rose

Lisa

Y/N💗

I told u... Now.. Read... The storyyy...!!!

Cute, short story created by NFT Sizzle

Cute, short story created by NFT Sizzle

Humans are sometimes caught in a moment and feel uncertain of who we are and where we are going. I have had times when I was not especially confident in my resolve and often felt as though I was on the move, so to speak, with no clear idea of where I was going.

The quest to find out what one's mission is can be compared to walking through a vast, lonely space, a battle that sometimes feels as if it will never end. Yet, these trials are the linchpin of our growth. In this post, I tell the story of a man who is in quest of the meaning of life, drawing my own experiences and the will to accept one's true nature as the sources of inspiration.

Let us be companions in our addressing of the multifaceted pathways to self-discovery and the challenge of purpose.

If any of you guys have any ideas write them here and I will put them all together and create the next chapter. Put all of your suggestions on here for chapter one and if you have any questions please ask me on here and start talking to me on here and not on text because some people have the same questions. Thank you and I am so exited to start this book with you!