Why does being Stuck in the Middle resemble Climbing the Mountain?

Time for RFW - Romatic Friday Writers and Saturday Centus weekend combo. The devilish part of me  loved meshing two meme prompts often, earlier. Time to pay attention to the curve-tailed me!

I put the book down, awaiting the phone call. Mom came in and handed me a cup of coffee. The author's mind reader had nothing on her, sipping the still hot beverage.

TRING...I spilled the contents of my cup, enough to feel the burning sensation through the thin cotton of my salwar. 

"Mohit..." "David here.”

"Sorry, I was expecting Mohit's. What did he say?"

He cleared his throat. I didn’t need his jumble of words to know. I hated romances for a good reason.

"Are you ok?" I wasn't, but had to be...she would need strong shoulders to cry on.

*Salwar - leggings of the traditional South Asian wear salwar kameez.

*edited piece from my short story, the Ring of Finality being the ending.

Wrong Timing?

After two months, back with my entry for Saturday Centus at Jenny Matlock's blog...any genre, P.G as far as possible, not to exceed 100 words plus the prompt in bold.. Check the other pleasure trips there.

The interview had held a lot of promise, one of the better ones she had given in recent times. Nevertheless, waiting for the elusive call was unnerving. She went about the everyday chores, no longer languorous. The meals were planned,  their calorie content checked, examined her closet, deeming most of the clothes as good enough for office wear. She checked her inbox a dozen times a day. The phone went everywhere she went. Today, at lunch, a beep was heard. She unlocked the screen in nervous excitement. The message read, “It is our pleasure to invite you to Exhale holiday homes, nature awaits.”

Some 55 ers

Curve Ball
Sometimes life throws you a curve ball before you can throw one back.

Everything arranged to perfection, the invites were out.
The surprise party, a celebration of our fifth anniversary.

Today he dropped a bomb, he is seeing someone and wants a divorce.
The report lay unopened on the dressing table, I was finally pregnant.

Submitted to Love in Creativity Project (flash Fiction)


Twin No More?

Disjointed arms flay helplessly; for the price of gaining one, the loss of the other.  
Can you choose to snuff off with a knife?
Will he miss the one that's gone or this so called bonding just a scientist's game?
 Will he smile now, he of the ones whose grimace bespoke the pained, gasping existence?




The Stampede

I moved along with the surging crowd, a pilgrimage after two months of religious austerities fulfilled...

I knew not, I would breath my last before leaving God's Abode...

Buck passing between the Government, the Temple board and Forest Reserve Officials starts; while my mother, wife and child weep over me in the ice cold morgue.

(Based on the stampede in a major pilgrimage centre, Sabrimala Temple, Periyar Tiger Reserve, Kerala where over a 100 men from the four southern states lost their lives  last week.)

The Dietician

Seated in cosy chairs the three waited impatiently as the aroma wafted around…she asked her sister if she wanted a cheesy crust…the reply was negative, couldn’t pile on the kilos….finally it arrived…satiated they asked if he wanted another slice, should they order another?…”but mom, pizza makes you fat”, the wise three year old retorted sharply.

 (Based on a true talk between my nephew Sidartha aka Sid, his mom {my sister in law} and me.)


The Gift
'Go on' said the laughing voice. She gingerly unzipped the bag.....squealed and waltzed around  with the gift in tow. The father looked on with disdain and reprimanded, 'shouldn't be spoiling your 22 year old sister like that'. He grinned broadly and whispered through a suffocating hug,'a girl is never too old for a teddy!!'.


The Nightly Ritual

She stared at them, they stared right back. Should she, should she not?... One swallow was all the act needed. One today, one tomorrow, one the day after and so on. Till a day came, when she lost and they took over. She stared at them...Pure and enticing, promising dreamless sleep : Her white pills.

Heavenly Matches

‘Matches under the stars’ the message had coded a dozen times. She debated the futility of it, desire overriding her fears, slithered her awkward way to the booth. The bored looking assistant looked her once over, before leading her in. Strapped to the ‘Biosync’, Zooawoong made her specific request.

“Outcome not possible,” the machine replied.

She eyes would have watered, but for the lack of tear ducts. As the assistant waited, she sought ‘his’ help.

His rolling gait, meant, a reprimand was to be expected. His thoughts filtered through. “The Boh-ring are better suited, child.”

She remained unmoved, looking in disgust at the appendages that served for limbs. Two legged was so graceful!

He glanced at his lovelorn spawn. Being the Emperor of ‘Piles Star Systems’ wasn’t easy.

The Solians were shrewd, driving a hard bargain. The young male she fancied was no match, lacking the tentacles - their power source.

“Appearances don’t matter to him. I hear him say, all the time.”

Surely not, he wasn’t the one losing precious assets. An icy moon and a moon base hadn’t been enough. Maybe, the smallest of the ‘Diamond’ planets their captain fancied would clinch the deal, get her the mate.

was the search over?

‘Magnolia virginiana’...was his search over? He twirled the dried flower in his hand, its whiteness showing signs of fading. The collection was strikingly similar to Rachel’s arrangement. His childhood memories were hazy at best, but some retained their clarity. The vanilla scent had soothed him through those difficult years and now seemed to waft around. Three years of devoted research had brought him to their doorstep. Their initial reluctance had faded under his passionate plea; he wasn’t one to give up easily. The foster parents had been kind enough to leave him alone, in, what might be his playmate’s room.

Waiting?

 The interview had held a lot of promise, one of the better ones she had given in recent times. Nevertheless, waiting for the elusive call was unnerving. She went about the everyday chores, no longer languorous. The meals were planned especially their calorie content checked, examined her closet, deeming most of the clothes as good enough for office wear. She checked her inbox a dozen times a day. The phone went everywhere she went. At lunch, a beep. Unlocked the screen in nervous excitement. The message read, “It’s our pleasure to invite you to Exhale holiday homes, nature awaits you.”

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/memes...so 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...

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. 

Hey Olive, R U Listening?

Recession couldn't have come at a better time.
With rising costs and reduced pay, the family budget had to be revamped.
First to go were the non essentials, out came the printed coupons from the kitchen jar.
Food  plentiful in the departmental store aisles, just, out of reach with skyrocketing prices.
Greens had made a comeback with a bang.
Spinach regained her lost sheen, Popeye sat back truly pleased.

Six word stories

Future Bright? 
Money spent : English classes, still jobless!

ouch
 Flower sleeps, nectar denied : Bee stung?

An Ancient Story Retold

She lay by the lakeside; in the moonlight casting no perceptible shadow  against the glistening waters.  Strangely restless and content, weaving and unweaving  her matted coils…some stangled and twisted to hideous effect or laid as they were. Dark, tangled strings that reflected the  surrounding gloom.

He had escaped far too often, she had let him live the ignorant dream…his scent deadly yet irresistible…his high notes ripping her apart…

 Letting him believe to be the victor in this ancient game she had perfected into an art. The night was their timeless friend, eternal enemy; bewitching , betraying, bespoken…rendering them puppets to mutual desire and hatred.

A secret dance,  feverish  glance lacking tenderness…wine and viper, stillness and motion,  beast and prey circling  in vanity and pride.

Soft footfalls, shodden grass groaning under the slight strain…picture perfect. They waited, glinting eyes and forked tongue for the sweet song to soothe and succumb to, for a little while.

 Medusa and the nightly visitor, her  lover and foe, evenly matched but tonight one would fall , the other would savour a shallow victory…as he played his magical notes, the coils unraveled…inhabiting every inch of the tiny meadow that was their’s alone to claim.

That Fateful Day

This small space had become a second home…better than the broken, crumbling walls in the remote village he had spend 20 long years in.

Cramped behind the old walls hid his famous face. The reconstructed interiors which once were the home of nationalists, was now his lair…hopefully for a long time.

 He never enjoyed these rare interactions with the kafirs* or those who professed to follow his religion… the paper rustled in his neighbour’s hands.

What stumped him however, was one of his brethren’s question "Would you like fries with that?"... on reading aloud the headlines on the front page ‘High Court upholds Kasab’s* death sentence.’

Whispers.....

 100 words using the Sensory Details Literary Device (the five senses) 


I ambled along on this weather beaten path to god knows where. The tourist brochure had looked enticing enough to pour non existent savings on a well deserved vacation, a last chance to mend the rift between us.

He bungled up as was he was wont to, not laziness but sheer indifference.

The cottage looked more like a haunt for lost ghosts.

An accidental touch of the wall sent chilling tingles down my spine.

The stench of despair was everywhere inside.

Whispering voices rang the death knell all night long.

I tasted the bitterness of defeat long before the end.

The Suckers

"Looks like we are stuck..."

"Foundation holes suck much like their spewing dust."

"Mother will have to wait for her dinner this year too."

Guilty As Charged?

As she nervously rambled on about the detergent sales dip in their branch; 

he pondered guiltily over their break-up's effect on her.

140 characters

Take A Fall

"How have you endured for a century?" 


"Practice"


The Earth shook violently, left a gaping hole where it had stood.


Perfection took a fall. 


  

Char: 140

Indigo Mood

Image Penny Smith/ Jinksy

‘A walk through the woods...
smell of docca and progo
 lingers on; even after 
the planets are gone’

“Miss home still?”

“when the sky turns this shade...”

“....as does your skin”

“time for the jabs then...should I try tan or mocha this time?”
“Two states this year!! Can't be careful enough...

wait a century, I'd say....”

*Droco And Progo...imaginary tree like formations

An Interview With A .....

Tonight we meet the reclusive authoress of 'If I die Young'.
"Welcome. Can you tell us what inspired the book and the thrilling storyline?"

Rasping in a soft voice, unblinking gaze, “Readers would know that it is based on out of body experiences, my own."

Red faced for a quick second before plunging forward, 
"Can you elaborate for the ones who haven't been able to grab a copy yet?"

 A maniacal gleam in the eye that turns the tomato hues to purple, a euphorical, "the young, such noble sacrifice...so soft and delicate, wonderful shades too. The best picks are the ones between 18 and 22...skin begging to be turned robes, an artist's delight. For a guy, yours is pretty soft too!!"

Reaching for the purse on the table, eyes on a particular man in the audience who nods his compliance.

"Someone call the cops" the last screams heard, before the studio turns dark and quiet...

*The title has been borrowed from "An interview with a vampire", lest poor me gets charged for copyright violation.

*Modern reality shows with emphasis on questionable, inappropriate behaviour, spouting corrupt role models and our infatuation with this disturbing phenomena prompted this piece.

*I have tried to keep it PG...apologise if it offends any one's sensibilities.

A Letter Of Hope??.....

Dear John,


  
          I have carried this burden for far too long. A part my ambition played; in this deceitful secret I have managed to mislead you with, through all the struggles and adulation alike.


    Your father never came from the future. You were a product of a hallucinatory night of marijuana and coke.


     This war wasn't your destiny. Run away while you still can. Amigo has promised to stay.


Sarah Connor.




For those who may not be aware, a spoof on Terminator, the cult movie of the eighties and nineties.

Some Books And A Tale

She was excited by the call...the chores done in a blistering hurry.

Cast a quick glance to ensure nothing was left unfinished…

A lonely Saturday afternoon, with no company (often a good thing); this was a boon in disguise….

She made the important call seeking permission and was off in a flash….the car parked at the entrance….it had been two months since she last saw him, the only one she could confide in. Yet, felt extremely guilty when; with every episode she unraveled, the cigarette packet emptied further.

She gently admonished for his only addiction, he barely nodded…quietness as he drove through the rapidly filling roads. The building loomed before them...a sense of peace and adrenaline buzzed through together.

The steps couldn’t be skipped fast enough...there was temporary salvation ahead...she ran her fingers lovingly through the racks...a comfortable chair; lost to the world when he picked and passed some.

As she hungrily devoured the pieces...a bag was gently handed over ....a birthday gift of books, so special...eyes glistened. The wall was built long ago, but it came crashing down at the fact that her brother spent a better part of the day with her, at the bookstore,  where her husband was busy with friends...