Thrill Or Trick - 2

 Part  1 is  the previous post.

Shammi replied “The Green Dew.”

Simi looked at him, a fear and question in her eyes as the others looked to the edge.

Ria or her lack thereof forgotten.

“Gather your clan children here,  protect them all.”  Time to seek his estranged warrior brothers, their very existence at stake.

 Image Courtesy Libertatea

For Saturday Centus at Jenny Matlock's blog...any genre, P.G as far as possible, not to exceed 50 words. Based on the literary device of a cliffhanger...this is the second part of last week's cliffhanger to conclude the story.. Check the others hanging offs there.


*Not keeping well, hence will get back in a day or two, my fellow centusians.

Thrill Or Trick - Part 1

"Some things never change around here." Simi poked around trying to fish out the harried souls.

The souls in question seeking solace from the stern elders, often alone or in groups of two and three by the lake.

'Sharing secrets inside the mansion walls was both embarrassing and dangerous' opined the teenagers.

This bunch was not smarter than the ones in the preceding years but used a different system of disguises. Hard to know if the portly, middle aged man she detected was indeed Shammi Uncle.

'Offending a senior member of the household meant hanging off a cliff like... Ria...
what the hell was that?'

Google Image modified

For Saturday Centus at Jenny Matlock's blog...any genre, P.G as far as possible, not to exceed 100 plus the prompt in bold. Based on the literary device of a cliffhanger...that is, the second part next week will complete the story.. Check the others hanging ons there.

A Story Grows

For Saturday Centus at Jenny Matlock's blog.. any genre, p.g as far as possible, not to exceed 100 words using the prompt in bold to create a story on the picture this time around....
Water the other saplings there.

I saw him there, busy with his axe slicing through the branch he was seated at the edge of. I screamed almost,  ‘you will fall down, you dolt!!’ The watch could only let me stay not change. 

Countless retelling didn’t prepare me for gravity’s working. He fell; branch, the weapon and all.

Could he be the Master, history proclaimed him to be? The language he choose, as classical as his imaginative works.

Were they even his? Didn’t the skeptics say The Bard too was a fake?

I would prove them wrong. I planted a little story seed and out sprouted "Of Shakuntala recognised by a token"*.

* It was among the first Sanskrit works to be translated into English . Written by Kalidasa,  believed to have lived around 4th century CE and sometimes referred to as the "Shakespeare of India".