A Creative Story

The Silent Scroll of Sonargaon

( writing By : Milon Khan )

( Poste By : https://theheartstalestory.blogspot.com)

The air in Sonargaon hung thick with the scent of wet earth and ancient dust, a familiar perfume to young Kamala. Her grandmother, an elder with eyes that held the wisdom of a hundred monsoons, had always warned her away from the crumbling remains of the city's once-grand mosque. "Some secrets," she'd often murmur, "are best left undisturbed." But Kamala, with the restless curiosity of a monsoon storm, found herself drawn to its decaying beauty.

Today, the warning echoed in her ears, yet her nimble fingers traced the cold, moss-covered stones. A loose brick, dislodged by a stubborn root, caught her eye. Behind it, nestled in the damp earth, lay not gold or jewels, but a scroll, tightly bound and surprisingly well-preserved. It felt ancient, its parchment brittle to the touch, and it was entirely blank.

Back in her grandmother’s humble hut, the scroll lay on their worn mat. “It’s empty, Dida,” Kamala said, disappointment lacing her voice. Her grandmother, usually quick with a story or a scolding, simply examined it with a puzzling intensity. "Empty, yes," she finally said, her voice a low whisper. "But not without a voice."

Over the next few days, Kamala tried everything. She held it to the light, hoping for a watermark. She even tried gently wetting it, thinking of ancient inks. Nothing. The scroll remained stubbornly blank. But then, one sweltering afternoon, as the sun beat down through the gaps in their thatched roof, a curious thing happened. A single bead of Kamala's sweat, tracing a path down her temple, dropped onto the parchment.

Slowly, impossibly, a faint, shimmering script began to appear where the sweat had touched. It was Bengali, but an archaic form, woven with symbols Kamala had never seen. Her grandmother gasped, her eyes wide. "The sweat of the living," she breathed, "awakens the words of the lost."

The scroll began to reveal its secrets, line by agonizing line, only when touched by the warmth and moisture of skin. It spoke of Khalifa, a master craftsman from centuries past, tasked with building a secret chamber within the mosque. It hinted at a hidden treasure, not of gold, but of knowledge – a collection of ancient astronomical charts and herbal remedies, meant to save Sonargaon from a coming blight. But the final lines were fractured, incomplete, speaking only of betrayal and a "star that fell."

The mystery deepened. Who was Khalifa? What was the blight? And what did "the star that fell" mean? Kamala knew one thing: this blank scroll, now slowly revealing its eloquent voice, held the key to a truth long buried within the silent stones of Sonargaon.

(Story End )

The Girl Who Walked on Lily Pads

( writing By : Milon Khan )

( Poste By : https://theheartstalestory.blogspot.com)

Rani, a young girl from a small village nestled beside the vast haors of Bangladesh, had always been drawn to the fantastical. While other children played in the muddy fields, Rani would lose herself in the shimmering expanse of lily pads, their giant, platter-like leaves like stepping stones to another world. She often imagined tiny, jeweled creatures dwelling beneath their cool surfaces and the clouds above as floating islands carrying whimsical beasts.

One particularly hazy morning, as the sun painted the sky in hues of mango and rose, Rani noticed something peculiar. One of the lily pads, larger and brighter pink than the others, pulsed with a soft, inner light. Intrigued, she carefully stepped onto it. Instead of sinking slightly as usual, it remained firm, and a gentle warmth emanated from its surface.

Hesitantly, Rani took another step, and then another. The lily pad began to drift, not with the current, but in a direction of its own choosing, away from the familiar shoreline. Fear mingled with excitement as Rani found herself gliding across the water, the air growing sweeter with the scent of unknown blossoms.

As she journeyed further, the clouds above seemed to solidify, their wispy forms taking on the shapes of verdant islands suspended in the sky, just as she had always imagined. Upon these floating lands, she could make out strange and wonderful creatures: long-necked, gentle giants grazing on glowing moss, and smaller, iridescent beings flitting between luminous flowers.

A swirling vortex of rainbow light opened in the sky ahead, and Rani felt an irresistible pull. Her lily pad carried her towards it, and a sense of anticipation bubbled within her. Was this the gateway to the world she had only dreamed of? Taking a deep breath, the girl who walked on lily pads braced herself for whatever wonders lay beyond the shimmering veil, her heart filled with the thrill of a journey into the truly unknown.

(Story End )