StoryBooksMania

Some stories teach us about life. Others teach us about survival. This is a story about both—about existing, and even thriving, when the world offers nothing but resistance. It’s a tale of quiet courage, and of the profound beauty that can grow in the most unexpected places. This is the journey of a flower that bloomed against all odds. Born not in soft soil, but from the cracks of a broken cement wall, surrounded by noise, dust, and struggle. Yet, it still found the light. It still chose to bloom. This is a powerful reminder of resilience in nature—and in ourselves. Read the Story: "The Wall Flower" A seed began its life tucked deep within a broken seam of an old cement wall—part of a half-ruined house on a crowded, restless street. The walls were cracked and tired, holding themselves up out of stubborn habit rather than strength. Somehow, the seed found its way into that narrow gap. Carried by a bird or the wind, it settled in a bed of dust and crumbling cement. And there, ...

  Inspired by the wisdom of Elizabeth Gilbert There are moments—often subtle, often quiet—when something taps gently on the door of your consciousness. It doesn’t demand. It doesn’t insist. It whispers. And in that whisper lies the beginning of something sacred: an idea . In her book Big Magic , Elizabeth Gilbert speaks of ideas as living entities—energy forms floating around, seeking human collaborators. If an idea comes to you and you don’t act on it, it doesn’t punish you. It simply moves on. It finds someone else who’s ready to say yes . That thought stayed with me. It felt magical… and deeply real. 🌟The Gentle Whisper Ideas don’t usually appear in fireworks. They arrive in quiet moments: During a walk. In the middle of a mundane task. In a dream you barely remember. They ask softly: "Will you listen?" Most of us are too distracted to hear them. The noise of the world, the chatter in our minds, the endless scroll—it drowns out these delicate nudge...

Listen, some stories reach your heart because they are meant to be written . I believe we all have some tales to share or to write. We all are, somewhere, searching for some beautiful stories—just so we can understand what the heart wants to say through them. I believe tales are beautiful, whether written or not, because tales are a part of the universe . Whenever I see the sky changing colors, I believe each day holds a new tale. And when you feel lost in the complexities around you, I think looking at the sky—trying to understand its tale—can help you reconnect with your world. Everyone has some words they've always wanted to write down. So if you’re wanting to write one, write it — before it becomes too late to put it on the page and bring it to life. It’s not always necessary that there are ears to listen to your tale, but I think telling your heart is important,  so it doesn't die. Not die in the literal sense, but in a way where it has nothing left to feel. Writing my boo...

Sometimes, we long for the light to find us — the kind of light that reaches us in a way nothing else can. And when it doesn’t, there’s something else that still manages to reach us, something that helps us rediscover ourselves with beauty and peace. Yes, there is something we turn to when we find ourselves completely lost — in moments of deep doubt, distractions, confusion, and the loud, harsh noise of the world. And when we go there, we realize that there is no companion quite as comforting and true as the one we call music . Am I right? Have you ever felt it? The way music enters your ears and goes straight to your soul? The way it vibrates through your bones as if it knows every unspoken emotion within you? Sometimes, when the world feels too loud or too silent, good music arrives like a quiet friend. It doesn’t demand. It doesn’t question. It just stays . In that stillness, we begin to find ourselves again — softly, slowly, beautifully. I’m writing this not just as a listener, but...

Some poems don’t ask to be written—they just arrive. Quietly, slowly, from a place inside we don’t always visit. This is one of those poems. It came from that small, tender space we all carry somewhere inside us. The space where the inner child still lives—the one who once believed someone would come. Someone strong, kind, and certain. Someone to take their hand, walk beside them, and lead them through the storm. This poem is about that child. The one who still waits. Even after all the growing up, all the knowing better. Even after learning that sometimes… no one comes. It’s about the quiet kind of heartbreak—the kind that doesn’t scream or shatter, but just stands there, holding on, hoping. Still. And maybe if you're here, reading this, you know that feeling too. Maybe a part of you has been standing in that same place. This poem is for that part. The soft, forgotten one. Still waiting. Still believing. Still looking for the hand that never came. Let me take you into this qu...

Hello, creative souls! Welcome to the very first post in my new blog segment, Between the Pages , where I’ll be sharing some of the most soulful, inspiring, and powerful lines I’ve come across in the books I read. Not full reviews—just the magical moments that deserve to be revisited and resurfaced. And what better way to begin than with the book that changed everything for me?

  Have you ever been sitting idle—maybe scrolling through your phone, staring at the ceiling, or simply daydreaming—and suddenly, without warning, a thought flashes through your mind? A perfect sentence, an image, an idea. It arrives out of nowhere, and you feel an undeniable pull to capture it. If you’ve ever had that moment, then you already know one of the golden truths of writing: When you feel the urge to write—write. Immediately. Hello, lovely readers. Welcome back to another post by Mankum , where today I’m going to share just one truth I’ve come to trust more than any rule: If something inside you wants to be written, don't wait. Write it now. ✨ Inspiration Doesn’t Wait—And Neither Should You The thoughts that visit us aren’t always polite. They don’t ask if we’re free or if we have our laptop ready. They just show up —unpredictable, spontaneous, wild. And when they do, if we don’t catch them, they vanish just as suddenly as they came. As Elizabeth Gilbert writes in Big M...