Showing posts with label Blogfest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blogfest. Show all posts
August 17, 2012

A Magical Journey

My  late...late entry for the WHAT IF? Fairytale Madness BlogFest! 
·          Best Love Story

Sadat seemed pleased as he turned to me. His long, delicate fingers created butterflies in the air and as usual in my gut.
"The Sultan, may the merciful one give him long life, has agreed to annul our wedding. But..."
I knew it! The greedy, 'honey with noodles' loving character hadn't changed in all of my 17 years on this dwelling of humanity. 
Sadat, my gazelle eyed beauty, was harping about the other crook in our lives, his father - the vizier. 
"Two marble palaces with walls encrusted in precious stones?"  Did I hear that right? The ethical djinn world was restive as it is with the marked lack of Arab spring out here. 
Sometimes, I wish I hadn't found the lamp. At least, Jasmine was out of Sadat's life. What was she thinking, flirting with my boyfriend in a transparent two piece?...Shaitan forbid, even my djinn has picked up her silly song as his welcome tune. I linked my coarse, browner hand in Sadat’s and sighed...
His face was adorned by an enchanting smile that revealed his pearly whites. Time to wake up the 'A whole new world' guy.  Rubbing the magical lamp never felt so good.

"Well, well, well! What have we here?" Imhotep ran his fingers over this shiny, bald pate. The crystal had revealed more than he had hoped for. His naughty 'nephew' was alive and the magic lamp--so near and so far. His eyes took on a glassy look, his pupils dilated and he drew a sharp breath at the sight of the pretty boy seated next to the thief.
'The temple of Anubis would be barren without this jewel.' He rubbed his ring. 
“My Akka, your wish my command." 
“Kublai Khan's Palace,” resonated through the empty chamber.

*Shaitan - Satan *Akka - Master 
* Imhotep -  High Priest, Egyptian architect, engineer and physician elevated to demigod, given evil traits in novels and myths.  "A greedy immortal here".

*Kublai Khan - Grandson of Mongol Leader Genghis Khan, created the Yuan Dynasty of China and played host to the Italian traveller Marco Polo.

Wc 290
* Got tired of writing hetero romances...

May 22, 2012

Journey's End? - Flash Fiction Blogfest

It's the 2nd Annual Flash Fiction Blogfest (may21-23) hosted by Cherie Reich to celebrate her third year blogversary. It doubles up as a competition with three winners getting Amazon gift cards.  Open voting on may28.
Check out the linky list of other flash writers here.
A piece of flash 300 words or less beginning with the words Lightning Flashed.

Lightning flashed in the distance. They sans one huddled closer drawing comfort from each other. The swirling black clouds were visible indicating that their journey was at its end. Yet, darkness would arrive before them. The winding road seemingly friendly an hour ago was at its treacherous best. The trees lining both sides were gnarled in places, hideous stumps at others, the roots spreading out onto the pathway like greedy fingers. The leafless branches rustled and bent towards them. This is an illusion. The shaman’s dying warning echoed. Icy hands trailed through their limbs. Fear, the warriors accepted, welcomed, but this unseen entity chilled their hearts, dulled their instincts, made them cower like the villagers they were bound to protect.
Ashan, the self appointed leader, twirled his blood stained scimitar. Basher balked at the other’s impatience, then nudged the unsure group forward. He waited for the one tagging behind. She moved with firm, alert steps belying her tender age. She had impressed Bashir by offering to be the bait. The council had happily agreed.
 He had sworn then to protect her with his life.  
A flash of light revealed the looming grey castle. Thunder made its presence felt. Then. Utter silence. They stopped a few feet away from the gates. Ashan turned to Bashir. “Take the girl and walk ahead. We follow close behind.”
Why single me out? “Come. It’s time.” in the kindest tone he could manage.
One of the gates unbolted, wide enough for a person to pass through.
 He stopped her as she moved forward. “I go first.”
The iron door closed behind them. Bashir rushed back trying in vain to wrench it open.
His reward was bloodied fingers.
Yasmin watched him, the slow hunger now a raging need. The warrior’s blood smelled sweet. A feast tonight.

Wc 300 Exact.
*Love using Asian characters since they are few and far between beyond our shores.

Flash Fiction Blogfest

May 14, 2012

My First Loves - For The Blogfest

 First Loves Blogfest hosted by Alex Cavanaugh...

First loves blogfest by songsnwords on GoAnimate

Hi Alex...bloggers, blogettes...welcome to my version of the First Loves Blogfest. You can see and hear the one minute video if you are feeling lazy to read...more or less the same words.

 At 9 years, second year in the new school in first love, you could say, offered me chocolates for his birthday. All I remember is his being tall for our age, with a cute smile and beautiful light brown eyes.
The other real one was an unrequited one at 22 but that's "classified information".

First book I loved was a gift by my dad's cousin, 'Firebird And Other Russian Fairy Tales' printed in what was once U.S.S.R. It has beautiful illustrations and pages with border art, but now kind of brittle to touch.

Let's get this straight...I am saying, the first movie I loved was Jackie Chan's 1978 released Drunken Master with atrocious English dubbing.

First English song l loved was Boney M's Rasputin, and the first band I listened to and liked was Beatles, the song Kansas City.

Glad to have you here and hope everyone who visited enjoyed this rather one sided conversation, hee hee.

March 27, 2012

The Dance - New Beginnings

 This piece is for the blogfest at Unicornbell.

"Dya*, hurry. They are coming." I panted through the half open door. My ribs ached with every short breath taken.
Had never run so fast, doing 5 miles without a pause. The silence from within caused strange sensations in my stomach. The hinges creaked in annoyance as I pushed the obstruction away. The room was in disarray, everything upturned. From the centre of the hall I could see that none of the adjoining areas had been spared. There were wet, muddy shoe and foot prints overlapping as though jostling for valuable space.Three clear sets led me to the bottom of the stairs, to the bedrooms above. I crept up slowly unsure of what lay in wait, the Swiss knife transferred from the back pocket to my trembling hands.
I wouldn't wish the scene before my eyes on even Stefanek, the village bully. I vomited my morning meal on the dirtied carpet under my feet. A low moan from the nearest figure brought to life my fleeting courage. Wiping away the hot, furious tears I stumbled forward. She was still breathing. The book was safely hidden for now. I covered the shredded remains of her dress with a blanket, lifted her in my arms as tenderly as I could and fled through the back door.
I have been standing for more than an hour in the abandoned house on the hillock, watching with tired eyes and limbs the devastation below. Half glad Aishe* wasn't with me, conjured a mental image of the agonised screams of the dying. Her kind heart would have never permitted this. The other half willing to give up the world to see her awake and smiling. The swirling, blackish grey waters mirrored the stain on my soul. Large carcasses of their livestock and pieces of wood, the remnants of their mighty houses and boats floated idly along. Pity, a couple of young trees had to give way. The flood waters would take a week or more to recede, competently destroying whatever stood in their way including the fresh harvest.
This has been the most exhilarating dance I have ever attempted. The river, my companion and slave mimicked my movements as she spread over the accursed village. I played the Kristora* sparing the villages that didn't harm us. The memories gushed back, uninvited. My father's pleas of innocence falling on deaf, hateful ears. His last words before they staked him, "Make them pay."
They stole our land, our home, murdered my mother, violated the elder sister beyond human endurance. She sleeps the sleep of the living dead. 
A tiny hand tugs at my shirt sleeve, whining,  "Let's go. It's cold here."
I pull him into the warmth of my arms reluctantly, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins screaming 'Enemy'. Our clan control the elements, a gift passed from the mother to her first born. Grandma refused to let him die, so he lives to see the death of his unknown fathers with his eyes. My father had been the youngest of six, as powerless as the the ones who accused him of black magic.
I stood silently for a few minutes more before trudging back to the trees, the tall pines already casting their needles on the floor.
Harman* loves the rustling sounds around us. He turns back and forth in jerky movements causing my shoulders to ache some more.The clan believes that the winter winds are less harsh since his birth. We live deep in the forest. The ignorant folks in the valley below think it is enchanted and evil and refuse to enter. Sometimes, blind faith can be a blessing. We planted the stories for our survival.
The ancient book says that our ancestors came from the East, from the land of seven rivers. One day, we will journey back, beyond the narrow confines of our adopted homeland. Harman and me.
We live in tents now, easier to assemble and dismantle in times of danger. Grandma is waiting by ours with a scowling face. She knows, always does. 
"Where have you been wandering about at this hour?"
"Nowhere. Just attending to some unfinished business." as he jumps out of my hold and scampers off to the dinner fires.

Wc 703

*Dya - Mother, Kristora - the judges.
* The words used are Romani - the language of the Romas, the gypsies of Europe whose ancestors are said to have migrated  from northern and central India around 1000 years ago.
Linguistic and genetic studies prove with reasonable accuracy that they belong to existing Indian tribes of travelling musicians.
* I wanted to give the dancing aspect a magical touch.
March 17, 2012

Wee Story About Wee Creatures? - Got Green?" Blog O'Hop

For the get green bloghop at Mark's blog... I emailed him; about having nothing remotely Irish in me, though some 19th century Irish thinkers loved to postulate their theories of racial ties of Druids with Indian Aryans based on language similarities. He baited me in with the hook of a flash fiction on Wee men and their pot of gold. Well Mark, a belated St. Patrick's day.

Courtesy Karenswhimsy- public domain images
She came gliding in her emerald studded, golden glass slippers. The swishing of the grass gown, distracting.
 "Very green" grumbled one the members seated on the semi circular rainbow table, secretly wishing he was single.
"Energetic, not our trait." the wee woman's nasal snarl.
The hatted man chuckled happily, gathering ominous stares from the others. He ignored them, thrilled at the prospect of a female assistant. Bushy eyebrows and matching beards tortured his daily vision.
"Oh my! Exquisite shoes!"  the secretary with her hand on her heart.
" Boyfriend’s gift for St.George's day." Leaned closer and mouthed in her ear.
"English!! Ya codding me? Wind your neck in, Colleen," the older woman cautioned.
She laughed happily, showing off her perfect, square teeth made of gold.
She moved to where the impatient trio waited, pulled out a chair, and passed her green leather folder.
Pale hands went through the embellished cards neatly stacked in chronological order. Accompanied by sighs and eyebrows lifted in disbelief, it passed at last to the older man .
He winked at her; she winked back conspiratorially.
"Impressive accomplishments. A talented family indeed." He added with a smug look.
"King Midas?" barely withholding a snuffle.
"That would be my great-great-great grandfather. Tricked into touching his favourite daughter was so devious." 
The snarl turned into a smirk.
 The soon to be single man, "Explain Julius Caesar."
"His sister. Smart duo. As Cleopatra's bosom friend, she taught her the womanly viles."
"Who is Silas Marner?" 
"Oh...that would be Móraí...can I tell a secret?"
Wizened eyes sparkled. "She never..."
She looked at her uncle warningly. "She loved him. Espie foiled her plans."
"Dubai shopping festival?”
"Brother Patrick. They love gold even black ones ."
"What do you bring on board?"
"Federal Reserve vaults. Three bars for three plus three given."
Few minutes of hushed conversation,
"Welcome, our newest portfolio manag..."
The secretary interrupted, “ Lucifer on the line, again..."
“ Tell him, 'Leprechaun Gold Inc' are greed investors not soul collectors.”

WC 333
Not Irish, not Leprechaun but can I spin a tale? Tell me pleash...

For those unfamiliar with:
St.George's day - Holiday of patron saint of England
St.Patrick's day  - Holiday of patron saint of Ireland
Irish Slang
Codding me - kidding me 
Wind your neck in - be careful, think about it
Colleen - young Irish woman.
Móraí - Grandma in Irish Gaelic

March 08, 2012

The Tryst - Second Campaign Challenge

Using four of the prompts, doing a flash fiction, a pitch or logline,  an inspired poem.
attempting three of the  activities tied by a common theme,
in a genre never before attempted,
and requesting a critique.

Flash Fiction

All that was left was to wait it out.
He stared at her, elegant looking despite the wet hair from the drizzle that caught them unprepared. Shooing away the starving kids at the garbage dumps hadn’t been easy, grim remainders of his past. He shifted his leg stump away from the jetting rails of what had once been the bridge of Bridgewater town. The pain would resurface soon making travel a nightmare.
The message had been delivered, the bird in his trap, dawn bringing the well earned reward. He day dreamed of the golden patterns, enjoyable side effects of the pain killing serum.

In a happier time reflected in her grandfather’s picture in the burlap, the sneak would have a name not just a number. The one who had foreseen the rise of Stonia, now something evoking fear and despondency was long dead but the movement he co-founded was alive in the hidden depths. She often wondered what had turned the still beautiful woman into the epitome of sadism.
Eric, she felt an ache at the very sound... this pathetic human staring at her brought her closer to the goal, the mission’s success hanging on his ignorance.

wc 198


 In a world bereft of most natural resources, the International Council rules with an iron fist. The  self labelled high priestess and sadist Stonia, the true wielder of power ruthlessly mows any opposition. But the MOB, an underground resistance plots her demise, their reluctant assassin, the unassuming Charlotte, granddaughter of one of the founders,
A simple plan that needs only an image and the medical skills of the widow of the previous leader, finds her embroiled in a moral conflict that could sabotage the mission and destroy the movement...

Wc 89

Poem - Form 'Ode'

Grey cloaks the land,
Where once walked the green maiden
Lovely and captivating visions she spun.
The birds sang, the river hummed
the mad wind whistled in passing.
Happy faces, laughing eyes, scampering feet
were not yet yellowing postcard smiles.

She stood there, straight backed yet unsure,
taking in the detail,
stilling the mind and heart
with the skilled hands of years past.
The expectations weighed
heavy on her chest.
The spirit never truly waned nor wavered
until she met her,
The mother who could have been hers.

For the Rach Writes' Second Campaigner Challenge

Prompt 1: 
Two people are sitting together under the remains of a concrete bridge. Their backs are against a rusted bridge support. One person’s leg is cut. The other person has wet hair. 

Four picture prompts.

Do one or more of the following:
  1. Write a pitch/logline for a book based on the prompts (less than 100 words)
  2. Write a short story/flash fiction piece of less than 200 words based on the prompts
  3. Write a poem with a twist using the prompts as inspiration (in less than 200 words)
  4. Write a story/poem in five sentences, each sentence based on one of the prompts
  5. Write a poem/flash fiction piece (in less than 200 words) about the water pear *without* using the words “pear”, “spoon”, or “droplet”.
For added difficulty/challenge:
  • Complete at least three of the above activities and tie them all together with a common theme (feel free to either state the theme in your post or leave us to guess what it might be)
  • Write in a genre that is not your own
  • Ask Challenge entrants to critique your writing.
March 05, 2012

A to Z Video And A Parting Shot

This is my entry for the video contest that serves as an appetiser before the main course of the A-Z challenge.
The blogfest, third year in running demands just two things:

A Prepare 26 posts for 26 consecutive days (except Sundays) based on the 26 alphabets in the English language.
Can be any topic in line with your usual posts or a particular area of interest like music, book, movies, sports, art, science, religion even your photographs, artwork, poetry and flash fiction (anything P.G rated, non racial and inoffensive).

B Comment on as many fellow A-Zers as you can or wish to, at least a dozen a day since there were over 1500 participants last time and may be more this time.

A great way to have fun, get out of the writing rut and make new friends, some of last year's A-Z friends still visit my blog. To join click on this Link on or before 31 March - A-Z Challenge

Now for Jenny Matlock's Saturday Centus...I missed it for almost a month.
Fellow Centusians have tolerated my crazy love for mixing challenges/ do bear with me as my centus is based on this first uploaded YouTube video of mine.

For Saturday Centus at Jenny Matlock's blog...any genre, P.G as far as possible, not to exceed 100 words excluding the prompt in bold. Based on the given picture, this time permission to add as many pictures granted.
Check the other adieus there.

She sifted through the growing collection, the idea slowing taking shape.
As she glanced at them, some evoked forgotten memories, some an unplanned smile, some leaving her feeling nostalgic and sad. Their expressions, bright colours, careful outlines were indeed deserving of more curious eyes, inquisitive minds.
It took her all day to choose the final pieces, yet some would not make it to the board. They would be discarded, often without a second thought.
After much chopping and crafting, were ready, each one decked in complimentary accessories.
It was time to create a video out of them and yet…saying goodbye was harder than she thought...

March 02, 2012

Tagged Quarto

Tagged me in a Q & A meme. (You may find words with extra vowels like U or use of S instead of Z...I tend to write in British English since that's what we grow up learning in Indian Schools)
Now for your questions, I choose to answer: Sorry its twice as long as most of my posts.

Donna Hole who has written three contemporary women fiction novels and currently querying one of them. I met her during the Rule Of three blogfest and find her posts interesting with useful tidbits and reviews.

Who is your favourite fictional character, and why?
Very difficult to answer but the ones I love are Elizabeth Bennett from Pride And Prejudice and Jo from Little Women, a lot like me except for the bold/outgoing part.

How do you come up with the names for your own characters?
 I use a word that sums up the basic nature/reason for the character in a story and choose Sanskrit, Latin, Arabic or French names based on that or anagrams of them.

What book would you pass up, even if it was offered for free?
 Mostly horror books and Mills and Boon kind of books (impossible romance)...after reading Salem's Lot by Stephen King at the bright old age of 13, developed an irrational fear of vampires and the dark...took me two decades to get over it, thanks to the sparkly ones of Twilight. ;D

Do you listen to music while you write? If so, what is on your playlist?
No, because I tend to get lost in the music...but when I am listening to a song, a quirky idea for a scene may pop up.

Do you have to make time to write, or have a set schedule; do you have any writing quirks?
When I first started writing full time in 2010, wrote in fits and breaks..After
 NaNo Nov 11, I make it a point to write atleast 500 words a day (for five days a week) on any of my WIPs but real life and health get in the way, often. I day dream of my main characters and it helps too.

Who is you dream agent/publisher?
 In India, the concept of agents hasn't kicked in yet, most publishers directly accept printed manuscript be published by Rupa or Penguin India (the biggies) would be a dream come true.

Do you prefer printed books or ebooks?
Printed obviously, the feel of the yellowing pages, the musty smell, and touching those images in  artistic/picture books. But realise, my books may end up as E publications.

What is the weirdest dare you ever accepted?
Nothing weird, very boring that way...just that once, called up one of my best friend's colleague whom she had a crush on, to strike up a conversation and know him more. :P

This one by Heather Murphy who is an aspiring writer cum case manager for people with disabilities.

What is your dream vacation?
 Italy for the history and Bali/ New Zealand for natural beauty.

Are you spontaneous or do you like to plan ahead?
 A mix of both .

Tell us one thing you want to do but don't dare do it.
Adopt a girl child...but a divorcee with ageing parents and not so healthy bank balance doesn't stand a chance.

What's your biggest phobia?

Being alone in the dark scares me. (not scared of death but turning into something evil) ;(

If you were stranded on a deserted island-what three things would you want with you? (Not including your laptop or family)
A high frequency Walkie Talkie with batteries.
Alum crystals to purify drinking water.
A clean set of undergarments. (hygiene freak)

Name three blessings in your life.
My Parents
Brother And Sister In Law

Cousins, Nephews & Nieces.

What was your nickname in High School?
None unless you count teasing names like double battery and four eyes by boys when I studied for the first 6 years in a co-ed school.

If you could meet the President of the United States, what would you say to him?
Be the strong man who won the elections and take a tough stand where needed.

If you could be any literary character, who would you be?
Faramir from Lord of the Rings to see if I can handle the ring's lure like him.

What is your favourite quote/s?
Not all tears are an evil.
Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. (my own words - think no evil )
Life is what happens when you are looking the other way.

From Sher A Hart a YA fantasy author of the Earth One Series and a mother to four scouts.

If you were the main character of a book, what genre would it be?
Fantasy or historical.

If you could have a superpower, what would it be and why?
Telepathy...I could avoid a person based on their thought process.

List the top three websites you use.
Google search
Absolute Write

Besides reading and writing, name two other hobbies you have.

Fabric Painting (on cloth, even clay, leather) and Photography.

Do you use Word Verification and why? (Better check first)
No, I prefer comment moderation for older posts. I hate the newer double hex ones...prefer not to comment on such blogs unless they have left a comment on mine or an old follow.

When visiting a Blog what bothers you most about the format?
Tiny fonts, very dark backgrounds, too many graphics.

 Do you have your email address listed on your profile, if not, why?
Yes, of course.

 How often do you post?
Sometimes on all days, at times once a week...mostly 4 days a week.

Are you on Facebook or Google plus?
Yes, both, but prefer to keep them (including twitter) seperate from my blog.

How often do you check your stats?
Once or twice a month maybe.

What one thing in the grocery store do you always want to buy?
Choco Cornflakes... (but can't buy, now that I am trying to shed excess weight)

Last through Traci Kenworth a writer of YA novels and short stories.

Daymare or Nightmare?
Nightmares often, especially that my 'psychologically disturbed personality' ex husband forces me to go home with him.

How many books/short stories/poems/songs etc. have you written?
Around 75 poems, 10 short stories, 100 pieces of flash fiction, half a short novel in progress (3 WIPs added up) in the last 1 1/2 years.

What genre is your current wip?
 Fantasy/Romance/ Sci-Fi/Contemporary all concurrent.

Do you have someone in your life who keeps you on track with your stories? Give them a shout out!
My Brother, cousin Nimmi who double up as my beta readers, given that both have a love for books.

Do you write what you know, or stretch your imagination, or both?
Both, depends on the genre and poetry inspiration too.

Who would you like to see on a coin/money?
A tigress since she is an endangered species, help create awareness.

What’s your favorite place to write and why?
 Anywhere but most comfortable in my bedroom.

 What would you describe your “Voice” like? I.E. Southern gothic…
Tending towards classical, literary.

Do you mix genres? Which ones?
 None so far unless you are talking of flash fiction.

If you could move anywhere in the world where would it be?
Back to Mumbai (Bombay), my home for 27 years.

What book (craft or otherwise) have you learned the most from?
The book of life, literally.

Anyone who reads this is tagged except the 4 ladies who tagged me, take 11 or 22 questions of your choice, let me know if you post them so I can know a little more of the real you.
February 27, 2012

Evil Genius Blogfest

The Eagle's Aerial Perspective aka Golden Eagle turns two years old today!

 A flash fiction blogfest to celebrate the occasion...check the others there and vote for me if you like.
On the other hand forget entry gets lost among the writer crowds.

Create a story, in any format whether that's flash fiction or poetry, where the aforementioned character does something qualifying them as an evil genius. You can also choose an already-existing person, perhaps from one of your favorite books or movies--just tell us why you think they're the best.

He paced across the floor, impatiently awaiting the messenger’s return.
‘The fool of an imp must have left the mansion four hours ago, can’t these useless fools do one thing right?’
He dismissed his personal aide with a flick of the hand, causing the poor creature to crash onto the cold stone floor outside the room.
The crystal revealed nothing as yet.
‘The ancients had set strong wards…but not for long.’
The curse was almost ready. The final words of the mantra left, to be uttered on the blue moon night, two days hence.
Hidden by him in the old walls 150 years ago, it slumbered waiting the unleashing of its dark potency.
“Only the mad bat knows where…”
He chuckled loudly, scaring the Bagoons in the cages.
She had played her part well, all these years, and would soon be rewarded for her loyalty.
They would be ‘The Lord of the lands and his consort.’ with all the high born crushed under his heels.
The Council had exiled him over his dark aides as they called them. In reality, he knew that they were scared and envious of his newly acquired powers. The spineless cowards had been unwilling to break the ancient oath and grab at everlasting glory, proclaiming truth and light as the greatest gifts.
‘He would show them the meaning of greatness, true power.’
 A scrap at the open roof grabbed his attention, the vulture glided down, encircling the clustered room.
Casting a quick, non verbal spell; transformed the scavenger into the hideous shape of his slave.
Trembling hands handed him the silk scroll wrapped up in protective Kusha grass.
‘Remove the grass blanket!’ he thundered, pulling away his hand as though it had been singed.
If things went well, the hated Charis’, Shaks’ and Warriers’, in particular, would be graced by an ancient visitor on the next moonless night. The Green Dew would bring with it, this time, the Elder Borns’ decimation. 

Evil Genius

WC 327

* The villain from my Fantasy WIP- Restless, who won't appear before 20000 words at least.
* The story is basically set in India, loosely based on Indian Vedic magic and Arabic Magic.

February 20, 2012

Painting At Night

Shadows crept across the wall. Lights from the opposite building through the thin curtains and the night lamp added to the effects…so quiet, she could hear her palpitating  heart.  Taking a deep breath, she picked up the thin brush, mixed the three  colours and carefully painted the petals.
‘Bitchy Prostitute’* the voice echoed, stronger than it had all week. She barely managed to pull away the shaking brush. The leaf was now shaded orange.
‘Damn!  Get a grip.’ 'It kinda looked nice’,  she noted…autumn leaves on the blouse would stand out indeed. She glanced at the clock on the wall, 12.45 a.m…half an hour more before  sweet talking  the mistress of dreams.
Lost in the swirling colours , she barely heard him till he stepped close. Laughed at her efforts,”Well, Picasso, get back to bed.”
“ A few minutes” the pleading voice.
“You know who’s up at this time?”
“Not that word, I will definitely leave this time.”
“Really? Poor Mrs Virgin, pity your face didn’t find any takers in college. We both know, your parents will send you right back.” walking away.
Ignoring the rolling tears, blurred eyes sought the brush… clutching it tightly, in its strength everything faded.

* the closest translation of the cuss word in English

WC 200 with the word 'orange' , the end words 'everything faded' and in my usual genre of  Realistic+ Contemporary Women fiction.

( Scene from my WIP on domestic violence  Scarred ....modified)

     At Rach Writes,  First Campaigner Challenge, woot!!! The Challenge is:

Write a flash fiction story in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, including a poem. Begin the story with the words, “Shadows crept across the wall”. These five words will be included in the word count. 
If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), do one or more of these:
  • end the story with the words: "everything faded." (also included in the word count)
  • include the word "orange" in the story
  • write in the same genre you normally write
  • make your story 200 words exactly!

Check other entries there. 
February 13, 2012

My Humble Origins - Blogfest

 Origins Blogfest

Co-hosted by DL HammonsCreepy Query Girl KatieMillsAlex J. Cavanaugh and Matthew MacNish,  

To share when, how and why my writing began

A nervous hi, takes a seat...
"My origins...from India, so I guess ..." jumps up in alarm as Robyn Engel  from Life By Chocolate, present here on persistent pleading butts in.
"Rek, Rek...%&#$@" does a face-palm, accuses me " You hoodwinked us all this time!! Took you to be a smart, witty woman who knows her ifs and buts..."
I , as usual, burst into tears melting her kind heart. She pats my head (in a petting way) " Come now, here, have a chocolate."
Pouting "Hello, trying to lose weight here."
She mutters" More like losing steam and our audience."
"Alex! Tbone!" she hollers, literally yanking them off their them a 'don't mess with me' look
"Be my guest!" and thunders her way out.
I whimper, still licking a dark bit, "Robyn, Wait!"
Tbone clears his throat, "Look Lady, We don't have all day...220 odd others waiting, so cut the crap!"
In a stronger, cocoa dipped voice, "Written essays and poems in school and college and books too. Summer vacations meant my cousins would hide away their books lest I spent less time with them."
Alex looks at Tbone, a telepathic exchange, 'Next time, our Blogfest is by invitation only!' and emphatic nods.
"My 8th grade(13yrs) English teacher liked my story, especially about a ranch reminded her of Black beauty...she loved my first line for another one, the one which went,"Under the star lit sky, with only the full moon for company, here I lie in a corner, a street dog."
Looks around for applause, none...stammers on, "But never aspired to be a writer, a published one at that."
Alex ""Finally!"  Tbone "No grovelling for sympathy!"
"Ok." "Written on and off for two decades now, till I joined Twitter in 2009 after my ... hmm...still a very bad word  here 'D'. Met two cool bloggers (now friends) T.S Hendrik and  Aditya, followed their blogs for a year before taking the plunge."
'"Joined some creative blog groups for poets and flash fiction writers, their encouragement helped as did that of my first few followers...then gave into my ambitious, pestering brother's advice and took up writing full time in 2010."
"Moving out of Mumbai meant I could only hold a part-time accountant's job since I never managed to crack my C.A (C.P.A equivalent) final exams. I lick my wounds with the hard fact that in the 90s only 3% of 15,000 students got that elusive title every year, maybe because of fewer job openings then... sigh...but on the flip side, I have a lot of time to read, write, research, submit and get rejected, photograph, fabric paint, mess around with different software applications and blog now."
Alex softly "Lets get back to writing."
"Did I mention I got a commerce degree just because Arts is not a cool career option for the great Indian Middle Class! To cut the long story short...finally found the courage to get around doing what I love and what I think is one of the few things I am good at. So, if my books get printed or not, sell or not....I am and will be an Artist/Writer!!"

 Alternate version

There was a little girl who was a bit different, impulsive, hot tempered, rebellious dreaming false worlds when she should have been studying some more. The daydreams grew larger, more verbose and sometimes silly. As the space between the grey cells shrunk, she took to writing on pieces of paper... some saved, some frittered away carelessly...she never showed them to anyone lest she be mocked at by the uncaring. Then it happened, the stuff that her fears were made of. Unlike other kindred spirits, the more she read others, the less pieces of her own got written till a day when the dreams knew better and took flight to the nether regions of her mind, a self  imposed exile.

Time flew, walked, crawled, the dreams peeked out now and then and verses took shape that were protected fiercely for years and yet the best ones cast one day into the fire of battered self esteem (especially the ones dedicated to her fiancé-husband who broke her spirit)....and then after years of grey bleakness, the tumultuous life led her back to the road she had long ago abandoned, the only one left she could travel through, to save her sanity. The journey was risky, shaky, encouraged by loved ones who had secretly read her amateur works...she trots along enjoying the passing scenery.

* My heartfelt apologies to Robyn, Alex And Tbone.... One of my beta readers (aka cousin sister Nimmi) feels that my writing: poems, flash and short stories had one thing in common - sadness. At her request I am trying my hand at humour and other streams.

*Sorry to have put you to sleep...wakey, wakey....time to blogfest surf....

Before I leave....some cool Blogfests to be a part of if you haven't joined yet. ...


 a way to link writers, aspiring authors, beginner bloggers, industry people, and published authors together with the aim of helping to build our online platforms. 

The challenge starts on Feb16 and flash fiction work posted on three days and winners chosen. A chance to get some good books or a critique as some of the prizes.
Last year they created a E book with over 180 entries , the proceeds going to a charity.
Joining Link Open Till Feb 15.

CHALLENGE YOUR BLOGGING SKILLS - every day for 26 DAYS all of April

 Post on  any topic but based on the alphabetic order. Last year over 1300 bloggers participated...a great way to met more people
 Sundays are the Sabbath days here.
 Links open till March 31. They even have a video contest related to the challenge, open for entries till Mar 11

 Evil Genius Blogfest By Golden Eagle to celebrate two years of blogging.
Create a story, in any format whether that's flash fiction or poetry, where the aforementioned character does something qualifying them as an evil genius. You can also choose an already-existing person, perhaps from one of your favorite books or movies--just tell us why you think they're the best.
Word limit for entries: 400.  There will be prizes too.
On February 27. Link closes By Feb 26

February 10, 2012

Tumble For Ya Blogfest

Image Courtesy Amazon.Com

 Well, no prizes for guessing my 80's crush....

He holds the privilege (hee hee) of being one of the rare actor-celebrity I have crushed on, it helped that my guilt (as in creative snob) was soothed by the fact that he could act as well given the right script and director.
Can we leave his religious, political, sexual leanings aside??

Where was I? Yes, I have a tendency to admire people for their creativity, skills or brains not looks. Judging from the other famous personalities admired in the late 80's, Tommy 'Cute boy next door' look however won hands down...its a different story that I saw the movie on a VCR three years after my brother bought the Top Gun audio tape in 1989 and saw his earlier movies at a much later date. It was the  combination of the songs and the face that captured this then 15 yr old's imagination for a long time, I still make time for his movies even the dull MI Sequels.
 Heard they are going to release a 3D version of TG in 2012...wonder if I should watch it or let old memories remain in a beautiful place like this post?

There, my secret is out, I do believe in our alien origins, after all the singe cell organisms could have traveled to Earth on a meteor as some scientists speculate....
 Please don't brand me crazy...I'm not even sure how to spell Scientology without Google's help. :D
By the way, Who's yours?

Today I'm participating in the Tumble 4 Ya Blogfest hosted by Nicki Elson,  M. Pax from Wistful Nebulaeand Suze from Analog Breakfast.

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