thoughts

"And if she doesn't come?"......thought I, as my soles boarded the bleak vehicle. The 

content of the bag was weighing down my shoulders but not my 

conscience. Ughhh!!! does the uniform dress colour have to reflect on the bus's exterior? 

It makes my mind sick. Wish I could dip the brush into the palette of my mind and colours 

of Nature would be splashed on the bus. Now the dull hues of smoke grey and black 

dominate my body and vehicle.


Pushing back the curtain of colours, my mind raced to the 'Little Angel' as she is known to 

everyone save me. 'Green eyed monster' as I have silently baptized her. She would be at 

the school gates with her mom and a smiley pasted on her face.

I have a strong urge to put an end to her but don't know how to.

If she accidentally slips into the pool. No-one will suspect me...oh no!! she is born with 

fins. Plan drowned.

I could mix some poison with her food? I know not where to find that stuff. Idea kneaded 

away to cold storage.

Could I put her into a spaceship and orbit her away to outer-space? There would be aliens 

to praise the  'little Angel' in the unknown territory. Option not a feasible one and 

aborted before take-off.

The school bus came to a screeching halt and so also the train of my thoughts.

"I have brought a chocolate donut for you, Hazel" and my thoughts melt away at her 

sweetness.

There is another chance, I console myself.

                                                         

shadow of doubt

"Good-night, little Princess". 

“Don’t leave me alone, Dad. The monster under the bed keeps me awake the 

whole night”. I bend. She is sitting with her arms encircled around her knees, 

her face ashen.

“Dad, don’t believe her”. I go numb.

But when my eyes scan the bed, nothing is there.

Laughter resonates the room.

But when I check under the bed, nothing is there.

                                    

unmatched combination

                 YeahWrite’s Weekly Writing Challenge #390

If you wanted to set your life on fire, there wasn’t a better combination.

The warning pronounced was not heard by anyone in the room but resonated in the labyrinthine 

folds of her grey cells and I seemed to absorb every word of it. But I failed to grasp the 

intensity of the prognosis. A silly assumption laced in over-protectiveness , I concluded and 

brushed off. She felt it as intrusion of my basic privacy while my interpretation was his fondness.

He kept tab of every phone calls I made and received. Questions were raised and I stood in the 

defendant's box explaining to him my every move . Sulking became his middle name  and I took 

pride in pacifying him.

The arduous hours behind the counter , the stilettos pinching my independence earned a pretty 

sum. A large chunk of it footed his vices.  

She fought tooth and nail imploring me to set aside a sum for rainy day. I brushed her fears 

under the carpet.

The landscape of my body was contoured with blue and black marks. I subjugated to slavery 

losing my self-respect. I hid every punch under the guise of a branded scarf.

                            She died a thousand times breathing worry and helplessness.

I stood on the threshold of her house nay my home, defeated. My mother's warm embrace 

and acceptance injected a hope in my battered soul.

                                                      



The first prompt : If you wanted to set your life on fire, there wasn’t a better combination.


The second prompt from the narrator's point of view  is: Death.