warmth and heat

       

Anita set the automatic coffee maker and changed the flowers in the vase. Her palms 

hugged the body of the mug sending warmth through her body. Her mouth enjoyed the 

taste and aroma of her morning drink.

The wrinkled hands poured tea from the kettle and stirred with the old spoon. She had to 

finish the ironing chore.

Anita stared at her mom and the old eyes met her gaze. The unspoken communication 

said a lot.

Two coffee mugs lay on the table basking in the sunshine with laughter wafting, the next 

morning.

                              It’s time to leave the past behind.

                                   Written for : Friday Fictioneers. Thanks Rochelle W.


                               



click HERE to read all the FF stories.

Property

                                                                 PHOTO PROMPT © Ceayr

“Sir, this beautiful property is owned ….

“….by a landlady who suffers from OCD. Blue being her most loved color she wears her 

heart on her sleeve and prefers to keep pesky intruders at bay.”

“But Sir, how do….”

“She is in the blooming range of 25-35 years and prefers to charge the rent as per the 

tenant’s tastes and intellectual standard. She is a stickler for punctuality and hates to be 

kept waiting.”

The estate agent’s pupils bulge with a farrago of admiration and curiosity.

“Tricks of the trade”. The detective winks climbing the stairs while the agent scampers.

                            Written for : Friday Fictioneers . Thanks Rochelle

                                    

Word Count  : 100

The cellphone

                                                                           PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Eames

His cell phone would ring and he would hold it tighter to clamber onto to a coconut tree.

This ritual was sacrosanct and quotidian affair. She tried her best to hear the one side of 

the conversation. However, the height and his low tone would not reveal anything.

Suzy had heard that he was engaged to a beautiful girl prior to their 10-month-old 

marriage.

People whispered that Suzy possessed strange powers.

She glared at the sagging branch of the tree. Thud. His spine cracked under the weight of 

the tree.

The day after, Suzy answered the call and smiled.

                                           Written for : Friday Fictioneers

                              

Click HERE to read all the wonderful entries.

the dark horse.

                                   

                                      PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Suzy was blindfolded playing ‘tail the horse’. She missed the mark. His daughter’s play 

reflected his state of mind. Charlie had to choose the right candidate to succeed him 

from the promising lot. However, one bloke stood out from the rest. The dark brooding 

eyes, the creased brow and tight lips were a picture of concentration. This young man 

could be a dark horse and Charlie was ready to bet his money on his chosen horse. 

Charlie could see his former glorious self in these eyes. Now wheelchair was his 

companion. Being an assassin requires more than nerves of steel.
    

                               Written for Friday Fictioneers

                                 

barbed fence

                                                                 PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

She stood on the other side of the thin barbed fence, with one of her twins and skeletal 

belongings, meekly partitioning the land with hatred and religious divide. The authorities 

had stamped her papers and thrust it on her face to face a life in another land.

She stood to gaze at the last time, which she had called home. The soil, clouds and 

vegetation on either side of the partition were the same. The border drawn on the land 

was bleeding her heart.

Did her husband and son make it to this side? She knew not. Will time heal? 

    FRIDAY FICTIONEERS. Thanks you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


                

                                                                                  
             


     

Fear

                                                            Photo prompt by CEAyr

The two-wheeler stood in the verandah  with the peepal tree giving it company. A black 

cat stared. I refused to mount on it. He explained to me that the public transportation in 

the villages are skeletal. I understood but refused to bow to his diktat.

“Akka, the lady is in pain”. The farmer came in panting.

I grabbed my white coat and paraphernalia and made a dash.

The road was undulating, muddy and difficult to navigate.

I reached my destination.

The delivery was quick and uncomplicated.

“Congratulations, a healthy boy is born”, said I, smiling.

I had overcome my Vehophobia.

                       


          Written for : Friday Fictioneers

Note : Akka means elder sister. A respectful way of addressing ladies.

Word count  : 100

Miracle

                            

His work as the henchman of the Don was to foment trouble in other’s life and fill his 

boss’s coffers. He realized the gravity of the situation when he got a dose of his own 

bitter medicine. An upside down image stared back at him from the mirror. His life was in 

disarray.  He could not reverse the needles of the clock.

He wished to start life anew. He couldn’t fathom how he would break away. The 

tentacles of the underworld would spread to ensnare him. Death would be the only 

penalty. He prayed to Lord Shiva for a miracle. 

Today's prompt is the word  Miracle and the photo prompt via Pexel.


                 I'm Writing Bravely for the Write Tribe Festival of Words -March 2019


                                

The archways

                                                  PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

She wore white, and stood under the stoned archway, her sombre eyes staring at

him till he was out of sight. She was always there as if she had a prior inkling of

him pass by. Never was a word uttered nor a greeting exchanged.

Today he has returned to the cobbled pathway after a quarter century.

She still stood under the fading archway wearing white and didn't look a day older

while his pate wore a receding hairline. His efforts to break ice with her was

greeted with stony silence.

A passer-by if he was talking to the stone-walls.

                            

                                          written for Friday Fictioneers

                                               thanks you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields



Read all the wonderful stories HERE.

the siren

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

A black blanket enveloped the modest annexe. The 

electricity had been switch off to avoid further

damage. People moved around under the glare of their 

cell-phone lights waiting for the engine to arrive. The 

approach road to the annexe was narrow and cause for 

concern. All the evacuees stood nervously choking from 

the smoke.

Suddenly she rushed into the dark entrance. The staff 

tried calling her name dissuading her not to commit 

hara-kiri.

The uniformed men arrived and the hose pipe came to 

life. The ladder was extended.

Nurse Catherine came out carrying a cherubic bundle

from the neo-natal ward.

Thanks Rochelle . Written for Friday Fictioneers.


Click here to read all the wonderful stories.

'Test'ing times

Loud noises knocked on her skull. The clock struck nine, every stroke sending

her body into shivers. Jolted, she got up with rivulets trickling down her bosom.

                   

She sprinted into the venue clutching her duffel.  The Physics lessons seem to 

echo into her psyche, her nervous feet refused to move forward. She stood rooted 

into the deserted school compound. She brought her wrist up. The seconds were

ticking. “I overslept, missed the test. I will flunk. Oh God Newton, help me!  ”

Her quivering lips widened into series of smiles letting off the suppressed tension.

Phew.

Physics test is tomorrow.

Prompt: Write 100 words on anything without using the letter A.

conquest

Oxygen barely flowed into her nasal passage but she was flush with the 

excitement despite the arduous journey. Every sinew in her body screamed.

She was not alone. The wafting clouds kissed her triumph, long-cherished, 

now fulfilled.

The howling winds acknowledged her presence.

She unburdened her baggage. Her needs were small.

She like the many had harboured a faint flicker of failure. Her expectations 

were moderate.

But try she would, never bow to failures. She secretly kept her aspirations high.

She hoisted the tri-colour on Mt.Everest and said a prayer.

The climb down was treacherous but her adrenaline rising up.

                                 

The sentence prompt is 

Keep high aspirations, moderate expectations, and small needs. 

-William Howard Stein

Road to freedom

She ducked out of the path and the mirror behind her shattered into hundred shards.

Furious, at missing his mark, the savage charged at her. The splintered reflections pierced his soles as he slipped and hit his head on the ornamental chair edge. His limp body lay sprawled.

She was on the Interstate, richer by a million dollars transferred to her account, to a life sans bruises.

The cop’s siren sounding harsher by every nanosecond, her moist hands shivered on the steering. The shrill sped past her to become a dot in the distant.

                      She took a detour to freedom.

              Written for : FRIDAY FICTIONEERS

                               Photo prompt : The Reclining Gentleman

                                      

Click HERE to read FF posts.

Boat

The shadows dwarfed as the perspiration beads bathed them.

Stepping into the rusted body, they perched on the edge, “wasn’t Old Pedro’s

disappearance a mystery." 

The drawl evident in Harry's speech. 

His remains were never found. Folklore concluded that the boat was haunted.

"Let's not dig up graves after a hearty repast", Sam said as the spicy curry 

taste still lingered on his tongue.

The abrasive boat long depreciated its value had sunk deeper into the earth. 

The ground beneath them rattled.

"Was it an earthquake or am I drunk?” Harry's pulse rising.

Old Pedro turned in his grave, beneath.

Written for : Friday Fictioneers and photo prompt provided by  Jennifer Pendergast

To read all the FF posts, click  HERE.

Extinct

PHOTO PROMPT – © C.E.Ayr

“It’s so succulent ", biting into every morsel of the crustacean.

“……….and a prized delicacy for its rarity".

"Hope it will not be confined to just being a member of the zodiac constellation”.

“Look there ", pointing to the oil painting on the Michelin restaurant wall.

"This water spouting Piscean mammal actually swam across the oceans".

"The last of the species was hunted for its meat and oil three decades ago".

From being abundant to endangered. Finally, extinct species.

Sigh. A colossal loss.

A wave of stoic silence hit the partying group.

The birthday boy stared at his succulent piece.

      

                       Written for : Friday Fictioneers

                      

Click HERE to read all the FF enteries.

I would never forgive....

Wordy Wednesday #3- August 2015 #SentencePrompt

this Week: Sentence Prompt  I would never forgive her for what she’d done.

Seeing both of them locked in a passionate embrace, he storms out of the 

thatched hut searing with rage.

The shimmering water starts to flow backwards, the monkeys chatter 

wildly and the petals huddle closely embracing their fragrance.

The celestial beings hide behind the clouds to watch the earthly 

catastrophe.

"I will never forgive her for what she'd done", and a curse escapes his 

volcanic throat.

Gathering his angvastram and having satiated his lust he beats a hasty 

retreat leaving her at the mercy of her old husband.

                   Ahalya waits for Lord Rama's feet to touch her stone body.

                                Written for : B-A-R- Wordy Wednesday.

                                       

 Click   HERE  to read all the wonderful B-A-R- entries. Happy reading.

Click HERE to read more about Ahalya.

Read more about angvastram HERE

Shooed off

              


Their rendezvous on the bright maroon and white wall failed to perk up her mood.

The aroma of freshly baked pizza made her aware of her gnawing hunger pangs.

The buzz of youngsters inside cordoned them off making them aware that their species was not welcomed.

She cajoled him to enter the spacious joint.

Wanting to impress his lady-love, he made a brave attempt.

A pair of gloved hands shooed them off.

They scampered and their maiden date nipped in the bud.

"I will open a pizza joint exclusively for moths", said he, pacifying his green partner.

“Amen”, said she.

                              Written for : Friday Fictioneers 


Read all the FF stories HERE

writer

              
                                                          PHOTO PROMPT -© Madison Woods

The humid Mumbai air wrapped warmth around her as she sat huddled.

The waves lapped against the tetrapods insinuating of some company.

The eerie silence compounded with the luminous moon peeping slyly 

through the stirring branches seemed more ghoulish. Thoughts flowed 

seamlessly in the quietude and translated into the nib moving furiously 

on paper. 

                           She preferred words on her screen.

The door creaked and faint light invaded her dark bedroom.

Standing in the doorway was her mother, "Ananya, off to bed. Only ghosts 

write at night".

                         "Ï am ‘ghost’ writing for my papa".

                 An invisible loving hand caressed her head.

                                 Written for :  Friday Fictioneers

                           

Auditorium

                                                               PHOTO PROMPT © Dee Lovering

The white flakes settled on every possible space blanketing the chilly gloom

prophesying the inevitable.

A binocular lay on the palisade.

All eyes turned in the direction of the chauffeured silver metallic BMW 

heralding the arrival of fur and solitaires adorned Duchess Slakefield.

Two pairs of polished red stilettos followed the dowager with hurried steps.

The temperature inside was optimal and the shadows dim.

The curtain parted revealing the grand setting and the characters.

A gunshot.

Chaos reigned.

Audience went berserk.

The binocular smiled.

Four stilettos missing.

The slumped fur-coat stained red.

The finale of “Who killed Mary?” remained incomplete.

Linking to Friday Fictioneers and Three Word Wednesday

                 

building a dream

Standing in the shadow of the impressive Gothic building with arcs and cobbled pathway, Stanley's haughty gaze slowly caressed the behemoth structure. He was elated to have made an outright purchase when the other merchants just dreamt to own it in the distant future.

The deal had to be inked and was only a formality. Stanley lifted the diamond studded gold pen to sign the legal documents when felt the chill and his tweed

shirt soaked.

“Get up, you lazy-bone Stanley. Who will sweep the pathway?” the old man with an empty bucket hollered.

                                                                                         

                               My unrealised dream, sigh, concluded Stanley. 

                                                  Written for :  Friday Fictioneers


                               


Read all the entries HERE.