Saturday, 12 August 2017




                                                             JulyMorgueFile file6681324364046

The wheels wobbled in the uneven potholed road rocking the spines to and fro. The 

creaky bones cringed as the engine trembled. All heads were bent, the pupils glued to 

the palm that treasured the piece of modern technology of communication. Only one 

neck remained erect, the eyes scanning the contents of the bus as the scenes outside 

kept hurtling in the opposite direction. There was no action to arouse interest and his 

eardrums ached for a conversation.

As the vehicle hit the speed-breaker he became acutely aware of his Writer’s Block. It 

clung like an infatuated lover.  Nikhil’s keyboard had draped a thin film of dust. 

His fingers hadn’t tap-danced on the alphabetical pieces. His anxiety had made him take 

refuge in every element of Nature to stimulate his creative juices. Excess intake 

of caffeine was blamed as his body tossed on the mattress. The night seemed to stretch 

beyond its finite time to torment him infinitely. No inspiration sprouted on the barren 

linguistic field.

Finally he boarded a random bus unaware of its destination.

He alighted at the next stop and decided to pen about moron earthlings metamorphosed 

into zombies.

                  written for  : Flash Fiction for the Practical Practitioner - 2017 week 31

word count : 192

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