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    Prism
    Prism
    Prism
    Ebook56 pages53 minutes

    Prism

    By Manisha Kalloo

    ()

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    About this ebook

    After a tragic childhood incident Ania has been leading a normal life forgetting the bad memories. She then meets someone who sends her back to her past. During an eerie road trip, she realizes that she may need to get away before she is stuck fending for her life and other’s around her.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherXlibris US
    Release dateAug 15, 2019
    ISBN9781796052718
    Prism
    Author

    Manisha Kalloo

    Manisha Kalloo is the author of Flute’s Heart and Prism. She is broadening her imagination and continuing to splay her fantasies within characters that you’ll grow to love.

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      Book preview

      Prism - Manisha Kalloo

      Copyright © 2019 by Manisha Kalloo.

      ISBN:       Softcover       978-1-7960-5272-5

                         eBook             978-1-7960-5271-8

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

      This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

      Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

      Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

      Rev. date: 08/13/2019

      Xlibris

      1-888-795-4274

      www.Xlibris.com

      801185

      Contents

      Chapter 1 Vesania

      Chapter 2 Absence

      Chapter 3 Ambiance

      Chapter 4 Reconciling

      Chapter 5 The awakening

      CHAPTER 1

      Vesania

      S ometimes I’d like to think how flamboyant I am when I’m alone in my thoughts, but in reality, I’m in a cell waiting for anyone to pass by and throw me the keys. My mind is running a race where the rest of me is restrained. I could wish for a prince to come save me but then I’m trapped in another dilemma, I don’t even know him or myself. Who would I be outside these walls? How did Cinderella and the other girl at the top of the tower survive? Did they really rely on hope itself? If that was the case, I would want my rescue to be theatrical; the guy bursting through the door wearing the most ludicrous outfit, swooping me off my feet in slow motion that he almost falls, my dad racing behind us and me having the balls to look back and sneer…then my dad shoots him, and we’re back to square one. See, even my thoughts don’t even let me go passed my front door. Woe is life, what we dream may disperse in our thoughts time to time, good or bad there’s always a battle. Love and trap are the same difference. If you’re trapped you look for love, if you’re in love you’re trapped. Save yourself, end of discussion. I could fathom stories in my head all day, they all end the same way; one big s plat.

      I looked for my mom in our small basement apartment, my teddy bear was dangling from my hand as I searched and searched. Everything was taller around me, but I can hear pretty good, so I used that to my advantage. There were small cries coming from the kitchen, it sounded like my mom; because I can see under the table with my height, I can see she was slouched over by the stove with her eyes closed. The sink faucet was still running and the dishes began to clash amongst each other. There wasn’t anyone around her, my dad was nowhere to be found. I slowly crept my way to her, she heard the sound of my teddy bear dragging and popped her head up and smiled. I didn’t smile back because there were still tears sliding down her face. I sat with her on the floor and placed my teddy bear on top of her. She grinned but I realize that wasn’t enough, so I pulled her towards the chalkboard that was on my wall. I wanted her to stop crying, so I tried to draw a flower, I struggled a little bit because I didn’t know how to write with either my left or my right hand. She saw me struggling and she took the chalk from me and drew the rest, I looked at her and I saw blood dripping down from her head to her ears. My breathing grew aggressively, and I bursted into tears. I thought she was dying in front of me, just waiting to collapse. I ran to the kitchen and searched all the drawers for tape. I didn’t find anything but cigarette packs. She ran to pick me up and closed the drawers immediately. I looked closer at her head. There were stitches on her head that opened up. She almost looked as if she was balding in one area. I grabbed my hair and tugged on it, hoping it would come off and I’d give her some. She told me everything was okay and when my dad

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