Detached

It was dark by the time she boarded the 7.15 bus. The seats at the rear would not be 

occupied as commuters gave last preference to them. A smile behind the silk scarf 

appeared at the sight of vacant seats. With none for company , she was happy to be in 

her own company. She scanned the area between the driver and herself. A few stray 

female commuters with bawling kids were to be seen. The kids kept their moms occupied 

so there was no fear of her being noticed by them.

She kept her head low while passing through the condominium gate. She rummaged into 

her tote if any neighbor made an attempt to greet her. She ditched the elevator to take 

the flight of stairs. Her legs needed the exercise, she justified it to herself. Moreover it 

was good for her heart. She had read in a Health Magazine.

Inside the safe confines of her apartment she breathed freely. The wall of loneliness and 

enigma was a bulwark, which she painstakingly built brick by brick, around her. The 

barrier or defense wall collapsed and she felt emancipated. 

Daisy clambered on her. Her feline friend purred with excitement and she  reciprocated 

the feeling. They both ate fish in silence.

Night seemed to embrace her like a warm blanket and she gazed at the twinkling spread 

up. She loved to talk to the residents of the skies. They asked her no questions. They 

were faceless and nameless. She was comfortable with the soliloquy . The distance 

between her and the constellations melted way. Sleep kissed her eyelashes and it was 

time for the rays to wake up.

                         This was a quotidian ritual without fail.

                                  

                                     

As her heels hit the hard ground, a pair of a dozen curious eyes behind the mango tree 

stared at her silhouette.

" I wonder where does she work?"

"She is a witch devoid of a broom"

" Does she practice black magic?"

" Shush".

"She cannot hear".

And she heard it all.

                                                         

Plot

The swords were out of the sheaths, brandishing and gleaming. They threatened to harm each other and she would not hesitate to slay her opponent.

                                   


The white coat's sword clanged and a sonorous atmosphere filled the air. Her mouth winced as her arms bore the brunt of the constant defense. The black mask hissed and spread her hands that seemed more like claws. She tried to pierce the white coat. The white coat resisted the onslaughts. Beads of perspiration sprang on her cherubic , serene face. The mad dance refused to die down. The white coat made slight inroads and wounded the black mask's facade. The injuries were deep and red liquid coagulated on the skin. Realizing that she was on the verge of losing, the black mask nodded and winked. The grey mask jumped from behind the white coat into the arena with a piercing scream. The white coat got a whiff of the scheming alliance after being taken by surprise. This ain't not a fair duel, white coat sensed.

                            But, is the world a fair place to dwell in?

The white coat lashed out at lightening speed. She valiantly battled with the dual evil forces with gusto. 'Now or never' seemed to be her motto. God and Satan both watched from the skies that threatened to shake humanity. 

On the periphery, the various 'body' spectators watched helplessly.

The eyes refused to see the bloody battle. The pair of hands washed themselves off. The heart wished it could provide reinforcements to the white coat. The legs didn't move an inch to intervene.

The battle  raged in the arena of my mind. The Good, Bad and Ugly thoughts pulled me from on all sides. The Bad and the Ugly battered my soul while the Good awoke my conscience.

                                            Who will win?
                       And where would the losers be lodged?

The Good thoughts fluttering with white coat adorned the tiara and the Bad and Ugly with their masks, beat a hasty retreat from the arena. Flowers spreading fragrance once again bloomed in the garden of my mind. Peace reigned.

                      Readers, how do you tackle the negatives of your mind?

                            

                                   

(Google Images)

The living ghost

Chomp Chomp Chomp...... the bowl of white radish , cucumbers and carrots generously sprinkled with salt and lemon juice is polished off and only the residue stains sat in the middle of the steel container.

"Ughhh. Were you a goat in your last life ?"

"And you were the King of the Jungle, isn't it?"

"Meat is delicious". Ivanka devours on the piece of chicken.

"Salads keep my bowels clean". Anita rubs her right hand on her well-toned abdomen.

" Girls, place your plates and bowls into the sink", orders the matriarch.

" Ivanka, you picked a fight with that bully Sam?". Anita relishes the cucumber bits still stuck in between her teeth.

" He started it first".  Ivanka rolls her eyes and stresses on the first pronoun of the sentence.

"You could have ended the war of words, Miss LazyBones". Anita piles the dishes in the sink while Ivanka rests her feet on the table.

"I had my fists on him and the red oozed from his nose". A satisfied smiling Ivanka relishes the chicken gravy still on her tongue.

Anita startled , looks up, from scrubbing the kitchen platform.

"Miss Preacher, don't start your lecture on non-violence". I believe : an eye for an eye", Ivanka heaves and  signs off in her usual trademark line.

" Mom , Ivanka is in trouble again". the soft-spoken lass is extending her neck so that her voice can travel to mom's room above.

"She is sleeping. don't disturb her. Papa will be proud of his daughter. ", and Ivanka feels the flush of pride spread on her face. She is the apple of his eye, a soldier's daughter. Anita feels that papa's genes runs in her sister's bloodline. 

"Did your finish your homework, Ivanka?"

A question mark stretched on Ivanka's face and words barely escaped from her mouth. Her legs spring into action faster than her brains and she searches for her books.

"How many times have I asked you to arrange to study table?". A precocious Anita is picking a novel.

"I prefer it my way", scowled Ivanka.

A pair of wrinkled eyes and ears is an invisible  witness to the  drama.  A murmur is whispered , unheard to anyone in the house, " Identical twins with non-identical outlook towards life.  They look alike yet so different". And the grandma vanishes through the roof in resignation.

                                               

Festival of Lights.

The bursting crackers outshone the twinkling skies but darkness multiplied in his heart. 

He wished that he could celebrate Diwali as other fortunate kids.

The Sunshine caressed the nondescript facade as his tiny feet made a way out 

with a childless couple. He had a last look at the orphanage and desired each kid, a home.

The lady with wings and wand pronounced Tathaastu.

                                                             

Thread of life

FFfAW Challenge – 190th

               He looked at the box and his eyes turned moist.

The noise of the sewing machine woke him up. He knew his mother was up 

with the Sun.

He was her sole reason to be alive and she felt alive seeing him smile with the 

glistening trophies and certificates. He was the apple of her eyes and a blue-

eyed boy of his teachers and professors.

She would often tell him that clothes do not make a man but manners make a 

man stand out. He was never ashamed of her humble work and took pride of 

her independence.

When people asked him for the secret of his success, he said there was not 

secret. The coloured threads unspooled and unleashed his academic and 

management talents. His mother was a blanket of security for him.

                          

                                (photo Credit :Yarnspinnerr)

                                               Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. 

                                                               

(134 words)