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.

The homecoming.

                                     

                                          



In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes colonnades. It can be natural, architectural, or a metaphor. Take a stroll and go where the prompt leads.

The tourist guide leading the Brit contingency started to rant the history of the historical 

monument. “This was the royal dancing hall where danseuses exhibited their talent and 

paid obeisance to the local deity. These colonnades are a mute testimony to the bygone 

era. If these colonnades could speak, a thousand tales could be heard. At the end of this 

hall…

 “……a giant kund existed where Soudamini jumped to her death”, said Sandy, the British 

born girl of Indian origin who had set her foot for the first time on the Indian soil, “ to 

escape from the Raja”.

                                             written for : Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction. 



word count : 99

Kund : a tank or a water reservoir.

Raja : King.

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