BE Storybook

 Emilio had always believed in freedom. It was why his beloved parrot, Verde, was never caged. Every morning, Verde would perch on the windowsill, greeting the sun with a burst of cheerful squawks before soaring over the village. The villagers often marveled at Emilio’s trust. “A bird that isn’t caged will never return,” they warned. Emilio only smiled. During August, a terrible storm swept through the village. Trees were uprooted, and homes were damaged. When the winds finally calmed, Emilio called for Verde. But the parrot did not return. Days passed, and the usual melody that filled Emilio’s home was replaced by silence. Despite his sadness, Emilio chose gratitude. He thanked the universe for the joy Verde had brought into his life. He found comfort in the memory of the bird’s laughter, the way its feathers shimmered in the sunlight. Though his heart ached, he refused to let sorrow turn into bitterness. Then, one golden morning, just as Emilio poured his coffee, a familiar flutt...

 Hector sat at his desk, staring at the screen in front of him, his fingers hovering above the keyboard. For months, he had been toying with the idea of becoming a digital advertising consultant for large companies, a career he dreamed of ever since he’d first discovered the power of online marketing. He knew he had the skills, the drive, and the passion, but something held him back. He glanced at his reflection in the window, watching the sunlight filter through the leaves of the tree outside. His dreadlocks, still in the early stages, framed his face like a work-in-progress. He had always admired the freedom and individuality that dreadlocks represented, but today, they seemed like an obstacle. Would potential clients see him as too unconventional? Would they take him seriously if his appearance didn’t fit the mold of the typical corporate consultant? He had read articles about successful entrepreneurs, all polished and primed for business meetings, with crisp suits and perfectly...

 When Rachel was eight, her grandfather gave her an old, beat-up acoustic guitar. The wood was scratched, the strings were rusty, and the case smelled like forgotten summers — but to her, it was treasure. She wasn’t the type of child who fit neatly into the crowd. While her classmates scrolled through endless videos and compared followers, Rachel sat on the front porch, plucking strings, learning chords from YouTube tutorials and scribbled notes from her granddad. There were no fancy lessons although her neighbour hearing her efforts and chimed in to help. She had no expensive equipment, just her stubborn fingers and a passion that made time disappear. Her parents told her to focus on school. Her friends teased her for staying home on weekends, strumming instead of hanging out. But Rachel felt something every time her fingertips ached from hours of practice: purpose. By 14, Rachel was writing her own songs. They were rough around the edges, but they were honest songs about growing ...

 Vasha had always believed that success was about perception. She moved through life with an air of confidence, dressed in designer clothing, dining at the finest restaurants, and driving a sleek car that turned heads. Her social media brimmed with curated snapshots of luxury, weekend getaways, elegant outfits, and exclusive parties. To the world, she was thriving. But behind the façade, Vasha was drowning. Her bank account was nearly empty, her credit cards maxed out, and her bills piled higher than the designer heels she proudly showcased. Every night, when the carefully constructed illusion faded, she sat alone in an apartment she could barely afford, feeling the crushing weight of her deception. She had wanted to impress others, to be admired and envied. Yet, in the pursuit of this admiration, she had become a prisoner of her own expectations. Her lifestyle was unsustainable, but the thought of scaling back, of admitting she wasn’t who she appeared to be, felt like a worse fate...

 Vashti and Sharma had always been inseparable. Born just a year apart, they shared everything, clothes, secrets, dreams, and even the small apartment they rented together in the city. They had promised each other as children that no matter what, they would always be each other’s biggest supporters. But lately, Vashti felt a growing distance between them, and it wasn't physical, it was emotional. Sharma had always been the ambitious one. While Vashti struggled to find her footing in her career, Sharma had already climbed the corporate ladder, earning promotions and recognition. She was thriving, while Vashti felt like she was stuck, running in place. One evening, Sharma found Vashti staring at herself in the mirror, tears threatening to spill over. "What's wrong, Vashti?" she asked, placing a gentle hand on her sister’s shoulder. Vashti sighed. "I am... worthless. You're achieving so much, and I feel like I’m failing at life. It’s like I can’t catch up, no ma...

 Every Saturday morning, the city seemed to pulse with its usual rhythm of horns blaring, engines revving, and people rushing in every direction. But for Leah, Mark, and Camille, these sounds had become unbearable. The constant hum of the streets, the chatter of people, the relentless cacophony was starting to feel like a weight, heavy on their shoulders and even heavier on their minds. They had tried everything to block it out: noise-canceling headphones, playing calming music, even yoga sessions at home. But nothing worked quite as well as the beach. It had started with a conversation one evening at their favorite café, as the sun dipped behind the skyline, casting long shadows across the table. "I can't do this anymore," Mark confessed, his eyes tired from the endless noise of city life. "I’m so mentally drained. I feel like I always on edge." "I know what you mean," Leah added, sipping her coffee. "The noise just don’t stop. I feel like it...

 Sunita lived in Valsayn, an affluent neighborhood in Trinidad. She was proud to be Trini, always talking about the things she loved most: doubles, the spicy food, hard party life, festivals, and the sunshine that seemed to touch everything it reached. Most of all, there was Carnival—a celebration she cherished with every fiber of her being. Every year, she’d lose herself in the music, the costumes, and the sheer joy of it all, dancing through the streets of Port of Spain like the very essence of freedom. But this year was different. This year, she had Kumar. Kumar lived in Toronto, far away from the sunny beaches and tropical warmth Sunita had grown up with. Their relationship had started online, born of late-night chats and long-distance texts that spanned the time zones between them. She’d never met him in person, but the connection felt real, deep even. Kumar was kind, caring, and, as she soon discovered, more than a little conservative in his views. He was from an Indian famil...

 Alejandro was a quiet man who worked the fields in a way that seemed almost too gentle for the harshness of the pineapple farm in Mexico. His hands, though weathered from years of toil, moved with a peaceful simplicity that many of the other farm workers didn’t understand. The other men, rough and hardened by the grueling work, would often mock Alejandro's calm demeanor. "You’ll never make it with that slow, soft touch," they’d say, their voices heavy with the weight of their own struggle. But Alejandro never rushed. He moved through his tasks with a quiet certainty, nurturing the pineapples with care, almost as if he was sculpting each one. The others would laugh and push harder, their hands calloused and quick to finish, but Alejandro simply smiled, as if in tune with the rhythm of the earth itself. One scorching afternoon, the farm faced a problem. The crops had begun to wither in the heat, and the workers were frustrated, pulling up the plants with anger, their impat...

 The village of Eldermere was home to a grand, historic fort—one of the finest in the region. Restored and well-maintained by the government, it stood as a proud symbol of the past, drawing in historians and tourists alike. But while the fort shined, the people of Eldermere remained in its shadow. For years, locals and outsiders referred to them as the downcast,a people of no ambition, no greatness, only criminal tendencies. “A village with a grand fort, but no worthy citizens,” they whispered. Even some of the villagers believed it, resigning themselves to a life of mediocrity, convinced that nothing remarkable could come from the once great area. Then came Nadine, a young woman who refused to accept the narrative imposed on her people. She saw what others overlooked, the resilience of the youth, the quiet wisdom of the elders, the untapped potential in the children playing near the fort’s imposing structure. If the village was to change, it had to start from within. Nadine began ...

 Armando was a general laborer, the kind of guy who could lift, carry, and push through the toughest days with little complaint. He worked in Puerto Rico, helping construct towering buildings that would eventually define the skyline. His workmates included every type of personality, but none more challenging than Ramón, the project manager. Ramón was intense, demanding, and always pushing the crew to the limit. His obsession with precision, deadlines, and perfection often made him a tough figure to be around. Armando, on the other hand, preferred to keep things simple, get the work done, follow instructions, and go home. They didn’t click. Ramón would bark orders, and Armando would grit his teeth, resenting the constant pressure. Ramón saw Armando as someone who didn’t take the job seriously enough; Armando saw Ramón as a man who demanded the impossible. Their interactions were often tense, like two gears grinding against each other. One day, as the early storms of the rainy season...

 Chyou had always been a busy soul. The constant hum of city life, the never-ending to-do lists, and the pressure to keep up with everyone around her had left her feeling lost, like she was running on a treadmill that never stopped. There were moments when she longed for quiet, for a space where her mind could slow down and her heart could breathe. One evening, while walking around the Queen’s Park Savannah, Chyou noticed an older woman sitting on a bench, eyes closed, her face serene. The woman’s peaceful aura intrigued Chyou, and she decided to approach. "Hi…How can you stay so calm?" Chyou asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. The woman smiled gently, her eyes still closed. "I meditate," she replied softly. "It helps me connect with the world around me, and most importantly with myself." Chyou, always searching for peace but unsure where to find it, decided to try meditation for herself. She found a quiet spot in the nearby Botanical Gardens the next ...

 The Kalloo family had always been known for their deep connection to nature and their love for the winding rivers that surrounded their village. For generations, they had lived off the land, relying on farming and fishing to sustain their large joint family. While they were content, they often struggled to make ends meet. Opportunities to increase their income came and went, but fear of uncertainty kept them from taking risks. One evening, as they gathered under the massive mango tree in their backyard, the topic of their financial struggles resurfaced. "We've been talking about change for years," said Rajiv, the eldest son. "But talking isn't enough. We need to act." His younger sister, Priya, chimed in. "What if we start a business giving river tours? We know these waters better than anyone, and tourists are always looking for unique experiences." Their parents exchanged hesitant glances. The idea was exciting, but it was also risky. "What ...

 Omar and Faruk had always been inseparable. Growing up in the coastal town of Azura Bay, they spent their days diving into the cerulean waters, dreaming of sunken ships and hidden treasures. But as they grew older, their paths diverged. Omar became the responsible one, studying marine engineering and building a stable life. Faruk, however, fell into the grip of addiction, first to alcohol, then to gambling. The sea, once their shared sanctuary, became a distant memory.   One stormy evening, Omar found Faruk slumped on the doorstep of their childhood home, drenched and disheveled. “I’ve lost everything, Omar,” Faruk muttered, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how to fix it.”   Omar helped his brother inside, his heart heavy. He had tried for years to pull Faruk out of his downward spiral, but this time felt different. Faruk’s eyes held a flicker of something Omar hadn’t seen in years, bitter remorse.   “Remember the *Celestial Dawn*?” Omar asked, hand...

 Shireen watched from the shore as her grandfather, Elias, set sail once again, his weathered hands steady on the ropes. The old man had spent a lifetime on the sea, but at eighty, Shireen worried. Each time he ventured out alone, her heart clenched. One evening, she confronted him. "Grandpa, why  you always sailing alone? What if something happens?" Elias smiled, his deep-set eyes reflecting the waves. "Shireen, the sea is like life. You must meet it with an open heart. Fear will keep you on the shore, but trust will let you ride the wind." Still, Shireen’s worry remained. One morning, after a storm, she saw his boat missing from its usual spot. Panic surged through her as she ran to a nearby lookout point. Relentlessly she searched until she spotted him, sitting quietly by the water, his boat anchored nearby. She hurried down to meet him. "I stayed ashore today," he admitted, patting the wooden planks beside him. "Not because of fear, but because I ...

 Rebecca had always been a go-getter. From the moment she opened her eyes in the morning, her mind buzzed with the day’s to-do list: meetings, emails, deadlines, and the constant juggling act of her busy lifestyle. As a project manager at a fast-paced tech company, she was used to being on the move, always in motion both mentally and physically. But beneath the surface of her efficiency, Rebecca felt an undercurrent of stress that seemed impossible to shake. One afternoon, after a particularly grueling week, Rebecca decided she needed a break. She found herself pacing around her apartment, her thoughts tangled with the weight of a dozen unfinished tasks. She glanced out the window at the vibrant green hills that lay just beyond the city. There was something about the sight of those hills that beckoned her, offering an escape, even if just for an hour. So, she grabbed her shoes, packed a bottle of water, and drove to a nearby nature trail. The moment she stepped onto the trail, the ...

 On the edge of a golden sunflower, two ladybugs sat side by side—Luna and Sol. They had spent days together, basking in the warmth of the sun, sharing stories of the wind’s whispers and the scent of the morning dew. But as the seasons changed, so did the winds, and Sol felt the urge to fly beyond the field, to see the world beyond the petals they had always known. “I want to go with you,” Luna whispered, her tiny legs trembling. “But what if we get lost? What if the wind carries us too far?” Sol smiled. “What if it carries us somewhere even more beautiful?” Luna hesitated, staring at the sky that seemed so vast and uncertain. But then, she looked at Sol, brave, steady, waiting. And in that moment, she realized the fear she held only existed because she had given it power. So, together, they took the leap. The wind did not swallow them. It lifted them, carrying them across fields of wildflowers and endless possibilities. And as they soared, Luna laughed, realizing that lovewas neve...

 Bernisha had always loved makeup. As a child, she would sit in front of the mirror with her mother’s old eyeshadow palette, blending colors with tiny fingers, fascinated by the way a simple stroke could transform a face. Years later, her passion turned into a YouTube channel “Beauty by Bernisha” where she shared DIY beauty hacks, honest product reviews, and heartfelt stories about her journey as a self-taught makeup artist. Her authenticity was magnetic. Viewers loved her raw energy, her unfiltered joy in experimenting with bold looks, and her unwavering honesty about what worked and what didn’t. The subscribers rolled in by the thousands. Brands took notice. And then, the offers came. At first, she was selective, only endorsing brands she truly believed in. But as her inbox flooded with paid collaborations, the temptation grew. One day, she received an offer she couldn’t ignore. A hefty check for a glowing review of a foundation that she knew was terrible. “Just one time,” she to...

 One evening, as the sun dipped low behind the hills, Ella stood by the window, staring out at the quiet expanse of the world before her. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, the sky painted in shades of purple and gold. She had always wondered, in the quiet corners of her mind, what her purpose was, why she was here, what she was meant to do with her time in this vast, seemingly indifferent universe. That night, as the world around her hummed with life, she had a sudden thought: What if the universe was not something she simply observed, but something she helped create? What if every question she had, every uncertainty she felt, was not a sign of her helplessness but a call to action, a call for her to shape the world, to give meaning to the moments that seemed so small? Her heart raced as the thought bloomed within her: The questions are not just for me to ask. They are for me to answer. She realized then that her thoughts, her choices, her very presence were not just responses...

 Hamid sat by the window of his small apartment, staring at the vibrant city. The noise of honking cars and distant chatter filled the air, but his mind was elsewhere. For years, he had been haunted by an idea, a simple yet revolutionary product that could change the lives of millions. It was a solar-powered water purifier, compact and affordable, designed for communities without access to clean drinking water. But every time he shared his vision, he was met with skepticism. “It’s too ambitious,” they said. “It’s impossible.” One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Hamid made a decision. He would stop doubting himself. He would plant his idea like a seed in the fertile soil of his open mind and nurture it, no matter how long it took. He cleared a corner of his tiny room, set up a makeshift workspace, and began sketching designs late into the night. He read books, watched tutorials, and reached out to experts, absorbing every bit of knowledge he could find. Slowly, his vis...

 Kwame had built an empire. After leaving the Caribbean for the United States, he had clawed his way to the top of the tech world, founding a US billion-dollar startup that revolutionized financial transactions. His face graced magazine covers, venture capitalists fought for his attention, and his calendar was filled with high-profile meetings. Success had come at a price, his friendships. He barely spoke to the people he had grown up with, brushing them off as unambitious and stuck in their small island ways. In his mind, they didn’t understand what it meant to be wealthy, ambitious and great. Then, one evening, an unexpected email arrived. “Wedding Invitation – Marcus & Eliana” the subject line read. Kwame frowned. Marcus? His childhood best friend? They hadn’t spoken in over a decade. Attached was a personal note: "Kwame, bro, it’s been too long. I know life has taken us down different roads, but I’d love for you to be there on my special day. It’s a small beach wedding in ...

 Paula slumped on the couch, her eyes fixated on the pile of work cluttering her desk. Emails, reports, and bills, an endless to-do list that seemed to stretch for miles. She sighed, wishing the world would slow down just a little. Then she turned to Sammy, her ever-enthusiastic cockatoo, perched near the window. “Hey, Sammy,” Paula said, her voice laced with reluctance. “What should we do today? It’s too much work, I might go crazy.” Sammy tilted his head and fluffed his feathers before hopping over to her. He opened his beak, squawking in his own way. “Come on, Paula! Get to it!” Paula laughed, a little surprised. Sammy often chirped out his favorite phrases, but today his words felt oddly… timely. She glanced at her desk, then back at him. Maybe tomorrow, she thought. But Sammy, always the optimist, was having none of it. “Stop! Stop!” Sammy squawked louder, flapping his wings. “Bad! Bad! Work is good!” Paula grinned. “You’re really pushing it today, huh?” Sammy strutted closer,...

 In the bustling, sun-drenched streets of Trinidad, where the hum of city life often drowned out the whispers of tradition, Travis stood at the edge of his workshop, staring at a piece of raw mahogany. The grain in the wood was deep and rich, its texture almost calling out to him. For years, Travis had nurtured a quiet passion for crafting wooden homes, a skill passed down from his grandfather, who had built homes that felt like they belonged to the land itself. Yet, in recent years, Travis had felt the weight of change pressing down on him. The once beloved wooden homes of his Caribbean community were being replaced by sleek, modern American-style houses, with sharp lines, glass windows, and minimalist facades. The rise of these modern designs, with their cold materials and unfamiliar aesthetics, left Travis feeling like an old relic, a craftsman whose skills were no longer in demand. He could see the allure of the new homes, stainless steel appliances, open-concept designs, and t...

 Penny had always been different. As a child, she’d seen the world through vibrant colors and patterns, turning old fabrics into art. But as she grew older, the world didn’t share her vision. In secondary school, close friends often dismissed her art designs as “in a hot mess,” and that comment lingered for years, shaping Penny’s doubts about her work. Now in her late twenties, Penny had almost given up on her dream of being a fashion designer. After years of trying to fit in at a prestigious design school, her creativity was suffocated. “Fashion is about harmony, not noise,” one professor had said, and Penny began to doubt her eccentric, bold designs, trying instead to mimic the more conventional styles that were praised. But one rainy afternoon, as deadlines loomed, Penny dug out her old sketches, the ones that were all color and chaos. She had been afraid to show them for years, but now, they called to her. She threw out the safe designs and poured herself into what she truly lo...

 Andrew sat at the small wooden desk in his cluttered apartment in Nassau, the low hum of the ceiling fan barely cutting through the thick, humid air. The sun had dipped below the horizon hours ago, but his mind was still ablaze with thoughts. The email had come earlier that day, an opportunity unlike any he had imagined. An aviation company in the Maldives had reached out to him via LinkedIn, offering a job to pilot their fleet of seaplanes. They were impressed by his expertise in navigating through storms and high winds, a rare skill that had saved countless flights in the region. They needed someone like him, with experience, someone who could handle the fiercest squalls of nature. He'd always dreamed of flying, but this was something else. The Maldives, with its pristine beaches and turquoise waters, was far from the bustling streets of his island home. It was a world away, and that was part of the allure. Yet, the decision to leave felt overwhelming. The thought of flying over...

 Kelly and Marcus were a young couple, freshly married and full of ambition. They lived in a sleek apartment in Woodbrook, surrounded by the hum of corporate life. Both had secure, high-paying jobs, Kelly worked as a senior strategist for a modern fast-paced marketing firm, while Marcus climbed the ladder in a high-pressure finance firm and was dedicated to his job. Their salaries were impressive, their careers promising, and the world seemed to applaud their success. At first, they reveled in the excitement of their respective roles. They spent their evenings celebrating their professional victories over dinner, discussing strategies and numbers, comparing who had faced more challenging clients or bigger deadlines. Success felt like a shared journey, their bond growing stronger as they supported each other through the endless waves of work. But as the months passed, the thrill of their accomplishments started to wane. The hours in the office stretched longer, and soon, work follow...

 Ethan had always been the kind of entrepreneur who wore his busy life like a badge of honor. His phone buzzed incessantly, his laptop was never far from reach, and his weekends were often spent catching up on emails or fine-tuning business strategies. But one Friday evening, as he sat at the dinner table scrolling through his phone, his 6-year-old daughter, Maya, looked up at him and asked, “Daddy, can we bake cookies tomorrow? Like, real cookies, not the ones from the store?”   Her question hit him like a punch to the gut. He realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent a full day with his family without distractions. That night, he made a decision: he would go screen-free for the entire weekend. No emails, no notifications, no endless scrolling, just time with his wife, Sarah, and their two kids, Maya and Marcus.   Saturday morning, Ethan left his phone in a drawer and announced, “Today, we bake.” The kitchen quickly became a flour-dusted playground...

 Kathy Ann stood behind the counter of her small flower shop, tapping her fingers against the register. The shop smelled of fresh roses and damp soil, but all she could focus on was the empty doorway. Another slow day. Another day where she felt like she wasn’t blooming fast enough. She had dreamed of this shop since she was a child, watching her grandmother tend to her garden with gentle hands and endless patience. But patience wasn’t Kathy Ann’s strength. She wanted things to happen now with customers flooding in, orders piling up, success blooming overnight. Instead, she was met with quiet afternoons, wilting hope, and a creeping sense of business failure. One evening, as she watered the potted lilies by the window, her grandmother stopped by. She watched Kathy Ann sigh, frustration evident in the way she misted the leaves too quickly, spilling water onto the counter. “Why you always rushing,” her grandmother said softly. “Flowers don’t bloom faster just because you want them to...

 Cassandra, Nicole, and Lakeiska had been carrying invisible burdens for too long. The stress of work, the anxiety of unspoken fears, and the grief of personal losses had left them drained. So, when Cassandra suggested an outdoor retreat in Dominica far from the noise of their everyday lives, her friends eagerly agreed. The first evening, as they sat around a flickering fire under the vast expanse of the night sky, the weight of their emotions became evident. "Every scare, every fear, every doubt… they don’t just disappear," Nicole murmured. "They always shape us." Lakeiska nodded, watching the embers dance. "And even joy, sorrow, and happiness… they all leave their mark," she added. The days that followed were filled with quiet hikes, deep conversations, and moments of solitude. In the stillness, Cassandra found herself reflecting on the past, her insecurities, her hesitations, the anger she had long suppressed. Nicole and Lakeiska, too, felt the echoes o...

Danielle leaned back in her chair, balancing it on two legs as she tossed a pen between her fingers. The classroom was abuzz with discussion, but she wasn’t particularly interested in the debate on whether success was measured by financial stability. “Danielle, what you think?” Professor Malik asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. She grinned, straightening up. “I think that question is wrong.” The professor raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” Danielle leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “You’re asking if financial stability equals success, but that assumes life is just about survival, just paying bills, buying things, stacking up numbers in a bank account. But what if success isn’t about the finish line at all? What if it is about how you play the game?” A few students scoffed. One, a finance major, rolled his eyes. “That’s nice in theory, but you can’t live off philosophy.” Danielle shrugged. “Maybe. But you also can’t live off numbers alone. Look at kids, they’re not worried about taxes, but th...