Psych Ward Chronicles

Some of the stories that were featured on True_George Psych Ward Chronicles have been removed from the website; the stories were reedited and are now published in book form as a paperback that is available on Amazon and electronic version that is available on the Kindle readers. The title is of course “Psych Ward Chronicles.”

This is True_George’s has fist publication and hopefully that will be followed by other publications.

   

Psych Ward Chronicles

Psych Ward Chronicles

by True George | Nov 15, 2019

Paperback

$10.95

Get it as soon as Sat, Nov 23

FREE Shipping on orders over $25 shipped by Amazon

Psych Ward Chronicles

Psych Ward Chronicles

by True George

Kindle

$0.00

Free with Kindle Unlimited membership

Or $4.49 to buy

Advertisements

Amazing life transformation stories (be inspired today 366 by Ngobesing Suh Romanus)

There are some rags- to-riches stories that you hear and they sound like fairy tales. Yet, they are true.

Take the numerous people all over the world who spend many years sitting on mud but later on, through their effort move on to live in ivory towers.

If these amazing life transformation stories sound like fairy tales, I want to assure you that they are real.

The good news is the heros of the stories are not the only ones who can bag such spectacular accomplishments. Anyone can. That includes you. What is needed is:

  1. Motivation
  2. Determination.
  3. The willingness to learn what it takes
  4. The readiness to do what it takes,
  5. Belief in God’s ever present guidance;
  6. Belief that you can do it.
  7. Hard work.
  8. Persistence when you meet obstacles or challenges on the way.

For sure, you can. You can also create an amazing but true life transformation story that will also sound like a fairy tale.

Sweet stories from a great story teller

Laleh Chini’s stories in The Voice from Iran are so thrilling and edifying. I was pleased with the lesson I got from the Gem’s Mount. Isn’t it true that the evil that we do lives after us? When you sow be ready to reap. 99 days for the thief, one for the owner. I really admire the brilliance of the young man in Gem’s Mount and the unforgettable lesson learned by the rich man.

And while we are with Laleh’s The voice from Iran, let me mention her post Valuable Words in which she talks about hope.

Here is my input:

I believe in hope;
Love your take on hope;
Hope many hear you;
It is good to hope;
Do not lose hope;
With no hope
You are hopeless.

I love reading stories from The Voice from Iran. If you want me to recommend any of Laleh’s beautiful stories, I will tell you all are sweet. You could take Free your Bird if you have already read Gem’s Mount. Then pick anyone at any time. You will enjoy it. Please, kindly let me know when you read Laleh Chini’s stories how you find them. Lots of love.

Join Me for Short Story by Lucius McCray, and then Ask Me Anything

When I joined success inspirer over a year ago, I was writing short stories almost every day as I worked on my first novel. Part of those stories was developed from a fictional author I created named Lucius McCray. Lucius even published a book of anecdotal stories called, “Country Boy” last year.

At the end of March, Lucius has another book coming out called “Humor Deeper Than A Holler.” Today on my Twitch channel I will be reading one of Lucius’ original short stories he wrote on my website in 2017. Please join me on Twitch for fun, laughter, and an opportunity to ask me anything tonight at 7 pm Eastern Time.

The Berserker Livestream

Ayub’s Recipe (A Very Short Story)

It’s bound to be utterly delicious “, he said, “cooks are from Qatar, no joke.”

I was waiting for my turn sitting in a corner with my head buried in the newspaper when this remark made me look up; he was cutting hairs of an elderly half-bald man while talking to another old guy sitting at the other end of the pew, almost on the edge, with his head tilted to the left like he was really enjoying either the talk or the wait, not that he had that much time on his plate at this age but he wouldn’t have any choice, I thought.

Ayub is talkative and it works out well for his profession as a barber. You could spend hours listening to his narratives and not get bored.

“Only thing is, that I am not invited”, he continues, “and he is”, he adds further pointing to the soda stall next to his shop.
“This is funny because I was the one who introduced them, and now they seem to be going at it without me”, he said with a scoff followed by a grin, and then a self-assuring smile which remained plastered to his face for few more minutes until he started to speak again, “Have you ever had such a relishing dish?”, asked he to the other old man sitting at the corner of the bench.

Man shook his head.

At this point Ayub picks up a different pair of scissors and steps out for a few seconds, looks here and there on the road and then stares at the hardware store across the road from his shop.

They are going too”, he said as he started trimming moustaches of the man in the chair, “You should know the recipe is pretty special and intriguing, let me tell you.”

He goes on without waiting for any response, “First chicken will be washed in detergent powder for an hour..”, I tilted my head, “..then it will be dried out and immersed in boiling kerosene.”

I was trying to find any hint of jest on his face but it looked sincere as he continued telling about the recipe.
“Once fried in kerosene, four bags of chewing-tobacco will be poured into it and then it will be mixed and mashed into keema.”
And he remarked, “Who would not want to be invited to a party where one will be served with such delicious chicken-keema!”

I continued staring at his face in awe and amusement. If he was laughing in the inside, he certainly was doing a great job hiding the expressions from showing up on his face and in his sad but twinkling eyes.

“That is what takes him through the day.. he keeps amusing himself and everyone around him”, I thought to myself.

I was interrupted by a nonchalant voice, “You’re next! Please come”, it was Ayub, smiling at me as I rose and went to sit in the chair.

Woman On That Wood Log

Priya and Rajesh used to go to this garden almost every weekend as it was the place they first met. People often used to ask them if they have seen the ghost of the woman sitting on the wood log there, as others say. But they never witnessed anything like that. Also, they never believed in ghosts and ghostly rumours.

One evening while returning back home, Priya was hit by a car and lost her life. Rajesh isolated himself and stopped going out anywhere.

But one evening Rajesh decided to go to the garden. Tears started rolling down his eyes.

The woman on the wood log got up and began consoling Rajesh. She told him, “I have also lost my husband 4 years back. I often come here for some peace. I can feel your pain.

Rajesh felt an instant connect. Maybe it was this pain that connected their souls.

He vented out all his pain and asked her, “why you keep crying but never talk to people? Why you never react to those ghostly rumours? She smiled and said, “Because I am a ghost, not everybody can see me but only a few lonely souls with the aching heart can, who have nobody to talk to. I committed suicide because I couldn’t handle the pain of losing my love. I was all alone. Take care of yourself. Try to help someone dealing with pain and loneliness, this will heal your pain too”.

And she disappeared again.

ezgif

To Read More Short Stories By Me Please Click Here ⇒ SHORT STORIES BY SAURABHAVNA

My Newly Re-Designed Website

In the video, I walk you through what has changed on my site, what stories are still available, how to navigate to future stories, and what sort of information you get from my website going forward. Additionally, links to my site are available in the YouTube video description.

 

Thumbnail

Click on the link and check it out.

Video tour of gmacwriter.com

Books 

 
Smell so refreshing, yet old at the same time. Collated in a row for the amusement of the eyes; ‘beauty is in the eyes of the beholder’ they say; yet wishing they were all mine. 

Feel so soft, so gentle, yet powerful at the same time, ink on the pages ensure a new excitement, new journey, a new vision or frame of mind. 

Caressing the books gently, lifting one at a time, which can I choose to take home to be mine. 

Mind struggles to narrow for one or two; looking eagerly from left to right, hoping, searching; for clues. 

Heart sinks at the thought of abandoning any, I gaze, I adore, incase I lose interest in any, as time ticks away; I conclude, clutching the entire bundle, reassuring that it’s the right thing to do. 

Walking away with my new collection, eager to seep through, I won’t buy anymore I assure myself, it was the best thing to do. 

For all the book lovers.

Sobia