94 posts
  • quoteinterest 1w


    The everlasting Supporter
    More than a friend
    Trusts me always
    Stands up with my passion
    Agrees with my decisions

    Happy Birth Day to My Best Dad Ever


  • kavyasri 1w

    Any daddy's gal over here?

    Read More

    Though I had a lot to speak out , I was speechless..
    Though I had a lot to express , I was just idle...
    I was totally messed up before he wrapped his arms around me!!
    Thank you papa for all the support and love you gave me ...

  • mkandres 1w

    Burial Plot

    Being the daughter of a real estate mogul sure had perks. As I pumped gasoline into my shiny red sports car I grinned with glee. Daddy had made some lucrative investments recently and they thank the Lord above, trickled down to me. I was fortunate to reap those benefits. Or, perhaps, deserving was a better word.

    Placing my stiletto heel on the back bumper, a groan escaped my delicate white throat. "Damn, run," I had complained. My sheer black stockings were ruined. Catching a glimpse of myself in the vehicle's rear view mirror, I tossed my long blonde hair to the side and admired my porcelain-doll features. I was gorgeous. The boys at Bridge Academy were going to love me, but I was looking for a man, not a child.

    "Oh, baby," I heard him exclaim. "Look at her." The long, low whistle that I had grown accustomed to quickly followed.

    "Mmmm, let's go check out the goods," another male voice had replied with a not-so-suttle guttural laugh.

    I had grinned, giddy from the attention, enjoying the playful turn on.

    Replacing the gas nozzle into its receptacle, I turned to find two older men, much older compared to my seventeen years, rushing toward me. Looking back, I'm not quite sure how or why I thought they were older, just women's intuition, I suppose.

    They were moving fast. Much too fast. Both were wearing black clothing; pants, long-sleeved shirts and ski masks.

    Ski masks? In August? In Texas?

    "What in the world?" I remembered screaming vividly as one of the men hit me upside my left temple with his tightly-balled paw of a hand.

    "Sweet Daddy will pay what he owes when he finds out we have his little girl," the second man's lisping spittle landed across my tight cheekbones as the parking lot shimmered, swayed and went dark.


    Stifling heat. I could feel my skin prickle, almost squeezing my insides as a boa constrictor would squeeze its prey. Perspiration poured down my face, neck and chest. I couldn't see it. I just knew. I couldn't see a thing. Nothing. Pitch black enveloped me; threatening to take over my mind, heart and soul. The aching throb in my temple was becoming louder and louder, filling the obviously small space in which I lay.

    Shaking my head slightly from side to side, I tried to clear my foggy brain and thoughts. What had those men done to me? Why? Why me? Every fiber of my being told me this was no random act of violence.

    Neck muscles straining, I lifted my shoulders and head just a fraction of an inch. My nose touched the top of my enclosed Hell. I pushed and pushed and pushed. I began to scrape and scratch. Pain radiated down both wrists and traveled through to my elbows as three long fingernails tore off into the quick. I could feel tiny splinters embedding themselves into the fleshy parts of my hands, like a rabid dog ripping me apart.

    Tears rolled. I knew I must look hideous, mascara staining my pretty face. Oh what a sight to behold!

    I needed light so I could see myself. I was expected at Bridge Academy in the morning.

    My stomach began to growl. How long since I had eaten? How long had I been here? Short puffs of breath came faster and faster. The air seemed thick; rancid.

    I tried to slow my breathing; think rationally. My mother had always been good at that, thinking rationally. It had never been my strong suit, nor Daddy's. We had been lost without her after she died. Lost, until Daddy had become a financial success.

    Mother's patient, yet sweet urgings made Daddy the man he was today, in my opinion. Whenever Daddy had something on his mind, he would run it by her. If she felt his latest project had merit, she would say, 'Do or die.' I laughed aloud now at that expression but felt Mother's sweet urgings from the grave. My grave.

    I still needed some source of light. I tried to straighten my legs a bit to kick out the end of the wooden box but all attempts failed. My body was becoming weaker, the air more sparse.

    I coughed, my chest heaving with spasms. God, I could go for a cigarette right about now! Wait! I am so glad I never gave up smoking! I had heard all the lectures about how smoking is bad for your health but, Hell, being buried alive is pretty damn bad for your health too.

    Fishing through my skirt pockets, I clutched my chrome cigarette lighter in shaking hands. Flicking the striker with my thumb, a faint blue spark filled the rectangular wooden box for a minute instance.

    I flicked again. And again. And again.

    "C'mon, dammit!" I screamed. "Come on!" I clutched the object tightly in one hand, took a deep breath and flicked the striker once more. I almost dropped it in my excitement as the flame caught and held.

    The small sliver of fire seemed almost mystical as beautiful oranges, reds, blues and even greens danced in my hand. I had never seen such a brilliant display. I was on the verge of a hypnotic trance.

    'Do or die,' I heard my Mother's voice reverberate off the wooden walls. 'Do or die.'

    Flinging an elbow over my nostrils, I held the small silver lighter to the spot I had clawed at earlier. Patience was a virtue, I had heard someone say once. Now I fully understood what that meant.

    After an eternity, or just a few minutes, I did not know which, I could see, hear and actually taste the wood burning. The small circle was becoming larger and larger as the fire darkened, changing the wood's integrity. I began to cough and gag as smoke slowly filled my lungs.

    Then, it hit me. Excruciating pain. An iron grip squeezed my lower right calf and would not let go. A Charlie horse. The cramp lasted several moments. I gasped, coughed and writhed in agony. Unable to contort my body in directions it needed for comfort, I bit my lip and prayed. Salty blood covered my tongue. My stomach gurgled in protest.

    "Don't throw up. Don't throw up," I commanded myself. I willed my stomach to settle and continued on with my task.

    I was perspiring again, this time more profusely. As I wiped damp hair from my stinging eyes, the cigarette lighter slid through my fingers, falling with a THUD that echoed through my coffin.

    I cried.

    I sobbed.

    I thrashed about like a temper-tantrum-throwing two-year-old. I couldn't do this. I wasn't made to handle situations like this. I took another deep breath and punched my fist at the wood in raw, deep, hatred. Hatred at Mother for leaving me to handle this alone, hatred at myself for not being stronger and hatred at the two men who had caused this entire mess, obviously due to a case of mistaken identity.

    I punched and punched and punched. The wood gave way beneath the force of my knuckles and, unbeknownst to me at the time, more than lumber was cracking and breaking. Adrenaline began to flow as did deep, dark soil.

    I was able to maneuver my face from the dust and grime that ensued but panic clutched my throat with cold, steely fingers. Had I done the wrong thing? Should I have done something differently? It was pathetically too late now. Dirt was flowing fast and furious.


    The next coherent memory I had was walking down Tolley Lane. A car horn was honking.

    "Get off the street, lady!" a man was yelling. "You homeless people need to get a job!"

    Homeless? I wasn't homeless. I was going to Bridge Academy, the private school for the well-to-do, the brightest and the best.

    Reaching my hand up to smooth my hair, I found it tangled and caked with blood and dirt. My skirt was tattered and torn. My legs scratched and bleeding.

    Everything came flooding back to me. The gas station, the men in ski masks, the one with the lisp saying, 'Sweet Daddy will pay what he owes ...' And the grave; that horrible burial plot.

    I turned onto Harner Avenue, where Daddy and I had lived for the past six years. We had moved in shortly after Mother's death. A fresh start, he had said.

    As I approached the house, I noticed my little red sports car in the driveway. I was confused but I just wanted to be inside, to take a hot shower and to call the police.

    As I quietly opened the front door, I heard my father's voice.

    "You did well, Maurice," he was saying. "No one will suspect that I was the one who plotted and planned this. The life insurance papers will be in the mail tomorrow morning; I can pay off those drug goons, and you, of course, and still have enough money left over to move to the Caymans." He chuckled easily; happily.

    "Oh, yes, no more paying for expensive cars, clothes or schools. I can spend my money on the one who counts the most. Me!"

    I listened as sadness filled my chest. Daddy? Daddy was behind this?

    I heard a long exasperated sigh. "Yes, trust me will you? I told you, I got away with it six years ago when I killed her mother Julie. No one's ever pointed a finger in my direction."

    I looked around the foyer for a weapon; anything. Emotions overwhelmed me. Shock, disgust, sadness, betrayal. I cannot begin to describe the depth of my heartache. How could I face this man? No, this monster!

    Atop a stack of car magazines on the side table sat my cell phone. Pink case, bling-bling up and down the sides. Forget cars, clothes, hair and bling. All I cared about now was justice.

    'Do or die, baby,' my Mother's spirit urged as I dialed 9-1-1.


  • healingquotes 2w

    Daddy is the beautiful thing that have ever happen in this world❤ LOVE YOU DADDY������.
    #cold #writersnetwork #soulwriter #readwriteunite #daddygirl #emotion #father #daddy

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    When ever your dad scold you
    you know that your not at fault
    don't think that how cold hearted he is
    but try to understand his
    care for you☺

  • snnija 2w

    #Father’s love#daddy’s little girl

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    A Father’s happiness

    Those lines in the small hand of yours are the proofs that you have come to this world to be my world ........

    29, March,1995
    6:30 pm

  • s_a_n_a_n_d_a_ 2w

    Parents do a lot for their children... And specially if you are daddy's little princess...he may say u lot of things that may hurt...bt the day u prove him wrong.. No one becomes happier than he!!!
    Love your fathers because they are daughter's first love and son's role model!!
    @mirakee @writersnetwork @readwriteunite @mirakeeworld #pod #ideal #daddy #daughter #love #happiness #pride

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    Ideal Day

    "You are just good for nothing!! Shame to have you"; said dad one day to anita

    10 years later,
    " Dr Anita Sharma"puts on the stethoscope on his dad's neck as a price for calling her to be his shame!!!

    Nothing could have been better than seeing his ideal daughter in front of him

  • syedatahurasaquiba 3w

    Mum & Dad

    I am mommy's heart and Daddy's soul...that's the reason i don't care if you say i am nothing to you!

  • kuhelika 3w

    The entire world turn into a mere being when you clutch my hands. The entire world seems into my fist when you close my eyes and say that I am your princess. The entire world seems dumb and deaf when we start chatting. Yes daddy yours is the purest smile I have ever witnessed. Through your eyes I perceive the world to be mine. You provided me with all my desires though some were a demand out of complete childishness even when I've grown into a teen. Yes, I am too naughty and demanding even today. Yet I've a heart to feel that you've provided me with the best gift daddy...and it's you, only you. I need no one else when you're my everything. And yes I promise you to provide you too with the best gift, your best daughter. Thankyou daddy for tolerating a kid like me!

  • itz_prokins 4w

    Read this article yet...




  • santhiya 4w

    The love in your sacrifices,
    Taught me the lessons of Life,
    © Santhiya

  • wordweb 5w

    This is to the first love of my life
    Fortunate is he
    Because my mom became his wife
    He is surely a man of few words
    I can't thank him enough
    For giving me wings of a bird!

  • yaksa7 5w

    I turned the hardest man in the world into my soft mushy teddy bear.

    As the world portraits him as a rough and tough guy only I know how cute he is in every possible ways.

    Yes, he is a great gym freak who kick you off like a bug...if you chose to hurt me all you have to do is cross him which in this lifetime you can't.

    Tho, his squeezy crushing hug gets out the tiniest of saddness in me and his warmth heart fills me with infinit happiness.

    He is my favorite companion who is always available to watch my back.
    He keeps motivates me to do all the scariest things as I quote "Behind my every success he is there in the corner smiling at me but behind my every failure he is the first person to lift me up for the most needed consoleto".

    All I wish to hear is "It's okay, You are okay... Let's try next time, Darling!"

    Sometimes I get overwhelmed with chasing up my dreams during my sick times I need to break and rest for a while. Those funny sick night I work on table for hours and black out. The best thing is as I think I am going to die in table where I miraculously found myself in a comfy bed. Definitly not myself walked to bed (too tired to do so) Who carries me?! Who else rather than him!

    For a man who raised me as a warrior girl in the world of princesses!
    He might be bad and the worst person to the world... But to me he is best person in the World.... In world where everything ends, I found myself a never-ending kind of TRUST in you Daddy...!!

    I call him Daddy!
    With infinite love for you,
    Your Kutty daughter forever :)

    P.S After all true love is never ever kept behind my reach or around the world all along and as he is right in front of me from the beginning!

    #daddy #daughter #love #truelove #happiness #care #trust #safe #motivate #mystory #life #live #ways #kind #goodforme #badforrest #writer #warriortale #mirakee #forever #always #kindle

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    He is the biggest and baddest guy for the whole World
    Yet he always choose to be good...

    Only with me!

    ©Selvabhavani Shanmugavel

  • vani_shiv 5w


    कृत्रिम से इस संसार में पिता का प्यार ही सच्चा होता है, क्योंकि जहाँ पूरी दुनिया जताने में विश्वास रखती है, वहाँ पिता आपकी खुशियों में, आपको छोटी सी गलती के लिए माफ करने में और अपना अपार प्रेम न दिखाने में विश्वास रखते हैं।

  • theperfectimperfection__ 6w

    "This is the last chocolate you are having today." he said.

    "Okay promise daddy. No more chocolates for today." 5 year old replied.

    The chocolate hidden under her pillow winked.


  • bishal 6w


    Jab aaya tha mai is duniya me..
    Pyaar se liya tha apne god me..
    Chalna sikhaya tha apne hath pakar k..
    Gir kar kaise uthte hai ye v sikhaya tha apne..

    Kya apko v yaad hai vo din?

    Subah school chorne jaya karte the apne bike pe..
    Vahi fir apka, chocolates aur chips kharid k dena Chutti pe..!
    Padhte waqt padhana, khelte waqt sath me khelna.. khaate waqt apne haatho se khilana..
    Fir vahi mar v khana apne galtiyo pe..!

    Kya apko v yaad hai vo din?

    Mere sath hassi mjak krte the..
    Ek sath hass hass k girte parte the..
    Abhi toh do pal ki baatein v nhi ho paati..
    Kaha gaye vo din, Jb aap mujhe lodi suna kr sulaya karte the..!

    Bohot satati hai vo yaadein, vo din..
    Har roz karta hu mai unhe yaad..!

    Kya apko v yaad hai vo din?


  • love_mugdha 6w

    Door kar diye saare gam,
    Har dard ko kar diya kam.
    Beinetehaan pyaar karte jo hum,
    Papa k yaad mein har beti ki aankhen ho jaate hain nam.


  • shahulmansha 6w

    Teddy to daddy

    I remember when I was a kid, my father tested me saying, "beat me, beat me, dear!"

    At that time I had not paused for a while, realising he was testing me. I beat him with my small hands, instead.

    Whenever my father remind me that, I feel stupid for doing that.

    But, Let us assume, at the same time If he had asked for my fluffy teddy, of course I would have given it.

    Yes, It shows my childish love of doing what my parents ask for, without knowing its consequences.

    But now, as an adult, I am showing my love in form of actions which makes them feel proud!

  • shalini1801 7w

    There are so many people whom I want to thank but there is someone whom I love the most and want to thank them. They are my parents.

    #thankful #parents #mummy #daddy #brother #writersnetwork #readwriteunite #mirakee #MirakeeWorld

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    Daddy you know I love you. Your cute expressions when you are angry makes me laugh. Mummy you know that you are my bestie I can share my everything with you. You two never scolded me for getting less marks. You always understood me. You always fulfil my necessities without me asking. And scold him (my brother) whenever he teases me. Thank you for everything.

  • kavyasri 8w

    "she blossomed into a beautiful flower from a small bud,in my soul"

    _ says daddy

  • anila_n 8w

    Walking down

    Today I hold your hands my darling and cruise all over the world..
    The entirety I find in you never lets any boredom or pain settle in me, for you make sure you envelope me with your unending and undying love..
    Being your Queen of hearts..Your Empress of crimson rose is my pursuit of happiness and solace I admit..
    But still! Being my dad's little angel is my favorite lane..the path I crawled at first..
    The runway where I stretched out my wings..
    The memory etched in my heart..
    So close to my soul..today and always.