Not a perfect murder.

                          

In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story without ice. It can be a world without ice or a 

summer camp that runs out of cubes for lemonade.

Inspector Ghote finds it hard to believe that it is a Perfect Murder. What is the motive? 

No clues.

The billionaire’s obituary extends to a full page in the newspaper. The dead man’s chest 

is cut open.  Looks like the work of a surgeon.  All the family members are abroad. The 

lone maid retires after serving supper.

                  

                                                             **********

Ghote stares at the cylindrical ice in his lemonade.

“Water can take any shape to form ice and melt away”, quips Pratima.

Ghote kisses his wife.

The murder weapon too melted away. He will search for the motive. The murderer is 

zeroed.

    
                 Written for  Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction. Thank you Charli Mills.

Young

                       

          Prompt : In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about growing older. 

“You will give wannabe models a run for their money. 500+ likes on Facebook. You are 

ruling Twitter, Instagram and Snapchat “.

“Thanks, darling”.

“How do you manage to punch in all these things in 24 hours?”

“Time-management, Honey”.

“You seem to have drunk on the nectar of youth.  Are you ageing in the reverse? You 

seem to be Master of all trades. Fashion, literature, cookery, women’s empowerment.”

“Sweetheart, you start to age not by advancing years but when you stop growing. 

Jettison stagnancy. Encourage yourself and others. Love yourself, be your own friend”.

 “Yes Daadi”.

                                        Happy Mother’s Day.

                       Written for Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction.

                  

Word count : 99

Daadi means paternal grandmother in Indian language.

                         

Ravenous

It slithered around the rough bark climbing up. Twenty pair of black claws impeded its 

progress. However, the scaly creature defied the cacophony of cawing and clawing to 

reach the eggs cocooned in the nest on the highest branch. It was a war, a war of one 

species versus the other. Nikhil held the pink slip between his fingers and un-spooled in 

his mind, the war fought in the boardroom with his own species. The Law of the Jungle 

was very much evident in the urban concrete. He had to fight his own battles. The ravens 

were still cawing.

                                      CARROT RANCH FLASH FICTION.

The harvest

He had drawn a blue print plan to put his free time to better use long before retirement. 

Working in a corporate office he had lost touch with Nature. The farmland in his village 

was sold off to the highest bidder after his father’s demise. How fervently Sridhar wished 

he hadn’t.

After a session of yoga, he sat at the table with renewed vigour chomping on the freshest 

tomato-cucumber salad. The aubergine vegetable tasted the best he ever had. From his 

potted plants in the verandah straight into his kitchen.

The seminar on urban farming has found many takers.

                  

(Google pics)

Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction.  Thank you Charli Mills.



                                           

busy-bee

Aunt Charlotte being a very fastidious person, I am on tenterhooks about a slip.

The brownies and cookies are baked to perfection. Darjeeling tea is ready to be 

brewed. The expensive crockery is laid on the table. The curtains match with sofa 

upholstery.

How did I miss this? I station the wooden-stool and hitch my dress high to climb 

despite feeling giddy. I am busy cleaning the ceiling-fan. The landline-phone springs to 

life.

                                             

I lower myself huffing, losing my balance to fall on the phone. I just pick the receiver.

“Okay Aunt”, I mumble.

She has cancelled her visit.

            Written for  : Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction. Thanks Charli Mills.

google pic

fear

                               


August 17, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write about an escape artist. It can even be you, the writer, escaping into a different realm or space in imagination. It can be any genre, including BOTS (based on a true story) or fantasy. You can focus on the escape, the twist or the person who is the escape artist.

The thought of looking down erupted beads of sweat on his face and his heart raced in his 

ears. This was before he met her. 

He stood unflinching. His feet in unison took the plunge. He was tearing down with 

speed, his lungs flush with fresh air. The canopy opened just in time and his soles kissed 

the ground.

She welcomed him and he thanked her for her timely intervention.

Nikita’s extraordinary powers helped him cure of acrophobia. She invaded his brain and 

excoriated a small part of his childhood hysteria.

                  Wish the parachute never opened, his wife gnashed.

written for :  Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction . Thank you Charli Mills.

(pie)ce of my mind.

                                 

July 20, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that features a pie. You can make it any kind of pie, focus on filling or crust, or tell us about the pie-maker. How does pie set a tone in a story? Does it warm the hearth or bring disappointment?

She bought all the ingredients from HyperCity.

                                    There is no market for my emotions.

Sieving the flour, granulated-sugar, baking-powder.

                                   Sifting my anger from my failures I should take stock of   

                                  my residual expectations.

Kneaded the dough firmly.

                                 I have to shape and mould my ambitions to rise in life.

She stuffed crushed dry-fruits into the pastry and covered it.

                               My confidence needs to be upholstered to boost my image.

The oven is heated up.

                             

                              The fire in me has to be re-kindled.

The pie is baked to be devoured by family.

                             I am going to be MasterChef on television.

                                                 

        
written for  :  Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction.  Thank you Charli Mills.


                                 


HyperCity is a supermarket chain.

ground crisis

In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about an unexpected landing. It can be acrobatic, an unplanned move or created into a metaphor. 

The geography of Leh had many an experienced pilots short of anxiety bouts. But for 

Captain Sharma this was a cake-walk.

A co-pilot greeted him,”Juleh”.

Inhaling the fresh mountain air, he checked his messages.

He sat down with a thud.

The landing and maneuvering of the giant metallic bird in a tough terrain proved to be 

easier than handling his domestic crisis. His larynx ran out of fuel. The air pressure in his 

eardrums had dropped low. His better half was leaving him with a bitter taste. Alimony 

compounded with fear stared bleakly at him. She had enough proofs. 

               written for Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction. Thank you, Charli Mills.

                                               




Read about Leh Airport.

Read about Juleh.

Mother Hope

In 99 words (no more, no less) write about a beacon. It can be from a lighthouse or other source. Use the word literally or figuratively and go where the prompt leads you.

Flashing the red beacon light and a shrill siren announcing urgency, the white metal body 

moves.

A budding life, inhumanly left to wither is picked up with love. The ‘unwanted’ tag is 

abandoned and a new name and home is given.

The wrinkled destitute breathe their last with dignity.

Bodies afflicted with diseases get palliative care.

Women and children counselling programmes uplift the society.

Refugees, prostitutes, street-kids are accommodated.

The selfless Sisters at Missionaries of Charity in the City of Joy spread sunshine under the 

darkest conditions.

The Mother in white and blue sari is a beacon of hope.

                                

                          written for : Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction.


Note :  read about Missionaries of Charity.

            City of Hope : Kolkata , a city in India.

            Sari : An Indian attire.

Tattered

“The blue represents the water bodies", replied Amrita 

with complete concentration on her school project.

"And the adjoining green body is land-mass."

" There aren't demarcated boundaries on this globe", I 

reminded my daughter in amusement.

"There shouldn't be any. A global village in the truest sense 

is what we need."

"The lines on the land fray people's emotions segregate into 

nations and separate humanity", she continued in even 

breath.

I inhaled deeply. The Amritsar air seemed less polluted.

I thought about my estranged cousin in Lahore. The lines of 

communication have to be kept open obliterating all 

barriers.



written for  : Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction

                                         


History : India got its Independence from the colonial rule on 15th August ,1947. But was partitioned into two countries. Geographical lines were drawn on maps but these lines affected human emotions. what followed was massacre and bloodbath. Read more about Indian history HERE.

Amritsar : a city in India.
Lahore : a city in Pakistan.

dream

June 22, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that involves a dream. This action could have happened while awake, such as daydreaming, or make up a dream when asleep. Go where the prompt leads as it could be a nightmare or just fond memories or ambition.

                                  

She lay supine on the hospital bed surviving on prayers of children and modern

medicines.

She feels her soul separate from her mortal body as Chitragupt calls her name.

"Beware, thorns and stones that hurt you" he cautioned.

"I have experienced pains and downfalls", she trailing him.

“Regrets?”

“None”, confidently.

"Wishes?"

"My Home needs a replacement to be run altruistically. The children would

suffer", she requests.

"Those orphans?",

"They’re my children", she emphasizes.

Doctors credit her recovery to a miracle.

"Was it a dream or trance?"

“Was it re-birth?”, questions a journo.

 She nods, waves at the vanishing Chitragupt.

                             Written for :  Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction

read about CHITRAGUPT

contentment

June 1, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about feeling content. Explore what is contentment and any direction will do. Go where the prompt leads.

I make an arduous mental effort to garner sepia toned 

images vividly scattered on the periphery of my subliminal 

existence and they slowly coalesce   to form a perfect 

collage. 

As I obambulate the muddy road, the sights and smells 

tickle my senses.

The play-ground reminds me of the agility of our minds 

and bodies.

I lose myself in the pages of the library to find my voice.

Rainy splashes bring out the fecund innocence.

Pals widen the curve of my lips to spread consoling 

warmth.

I refuse to come out the labyrinthine garden of 

contentment.

             Return If Possible, childhood.

written for : Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction

grey wisdom

Combing my long silky tresses, I admired my reflection in 

the mirror.Tessie grimaced.

I turned to face her.

Her celluloid image had painted nails, each hair in place 

and a made-up face hiding all its flaws while my oils were 

a connoisseur’s prized possessions.

“Silver streaks in your hair”, almost gasping.

“I know”, a calm and confident me.

“Let me fix an appointment with Yasmine’s Colour 

Parlour”, Tessie panicking, “You have hit fifty”.

“I have accumulated streaks of wisdom in half a century 

and will unabashedly flaunt it”.

Thud...... Tessie’s cell -phone lay on the floor, broken, 

bruised.

written for Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction.

Miss Universe

In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about trading.
It can be the profession of old or of modern day traders on Wall Street.
It can be trading places or lunches at school. What is traded? 
Is it a fair deal or a dupe? Trade away and go where the prompt leads you.




“World peace is the need of the hour”, she mouthed and a thunderous

applause deafened the stadium.

She adorned the sparkling tiara, as the curve of her lips widened.

                                            


Uneasiness lies in the head that wears the crown, Mrs. Ruth’s words

buzzed in her head.

Her new itinerary made her travel through various time zones.

                               ********************


The little fingers generously dug into the sinful chocolate.

The anorexic frame balancing the crown bent down to kiss the orphaned

cheeks while television screens beamed her actions.

“Will you trade places for a day?” begged the Miss Universe.

The innocent eyes stared disinterestedly. 


written for : Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction