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
Finally he boarded a random bus unaware of its destination.
He alighted at the next stop and decided to pen about moron earthlings metamorphosed
written for : Flash Fiction for the Practical Practitioner - 2017 week 31
word count : 192