#BlogChallenge, #fiction

Soulmates #WriteBravely #Day4


She was called the ugliest woman on earth, but she refused to believe it. Yes, she wasn’t like the other women around her, but that’s where her beauty lay.

He was someone who had seen too much. He just wanted to feel now. Good things, the right intentions and positive vibes.

They met outside court. They laughed about the irony that the place where people and families were split apart was the place that brought them together.

He never remembered her birthday, or brought her flowers. She laughed it away, as he stood by her when it mattered.

When she had to go to court, he held her hand and never left her side. When the barbs of the world pierced her armour of defence and she cried into the pillow, he sat by her side rubbing her back and running his hands on her hair, calming her down. It always worked. Her sobs subsided and she felt better.

She then made them cups of her famous Kadak Chai and they enjoyed sipping it as they ate their way through the butter biscuits studded with raisins he had introduced her to, and she had grown so fond of.

‘I have never known bliss like this.’ She let out a contended sigh.

‘Neither have I.’ his brilliant smile lit up his face.

‘Aren’t we the luckiest people on earth!’ she exclaimed.

‘Yes, we are…’ his hands made their way towards hers, entwining their fingers together.

‘You know I watched this film, Ratatouille, a long time ago. It was about a Rat who dreams of becoming a French Chef. When he realises he can’t possibly become one he joins hands with a boy, Remy, who can make his dream come true. A line from that film, ‘You must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from. Your only limit is your soul’, has stayed with me. I am the Rat and you are my Remy.’ She placed her head on his shoulder, as she looked at their reflection in the mirror.

She, with her melted face and neck, the result of an acid attack by a jilted fiancé. And at him, with his beautiful face, and burnt out sockets in place of his eyes, a mark left by an irate foster parent, in one of his many homes away from his orphanage.

This post is written for Day 4 of the The Write Tribe Festival of Words June 2018. 

I used 2 Prompts: 

The Photo Prompt you see at the top of the post 

and the quote

‘You must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from. Your only limit is your soul’ – Ratattouille

Write Tribe


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