Tag Archives: flash fiction

Promise

“I will always be with you” , It was a promise they had both made. She skimmed through the pages of her diary , trying to read through her flood of thoughts, finding it hard to imagine, she missed the signs in plain sight. Tears fell on the pink pages, turning them a shade darker yet the ink stayed. Her frail body swayed with each sob yet she kept looking at the cellphone screen, expecting any text or call from him. She expected his scent to fill the doorway any moment, but he did not come or call.

“I will always be with you” , It was a promise they had both made and yet she had strayed. She did not deserve being forgiven, yet she hoped he would understand. Just once, she cried, just once.

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Linked to sunday Scribbling , Sunday Whirl , Two shoes Tuesday

In bed

“So where were you this weekend?” he asked as soon as he saw me enter the corridor.
“In bed”, I replied, trying not to sbe stopped there for a chat.
“With ?”,he asked with a naughty smile, in a not-so-low manner.
“with a high temperature and headache”, I snapped back at him, irritated at answering the same joke to all.

He scowled at me and walked off, eating any other comment he wished to further make.
Perfect V day beginning, I muttered under my breath. If only he would stop acting so smart ass always, I thought and went the opposite way.

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For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Dili challenged me with “If you always try to sound smart you will end up coming out dumb.” and I challenged Leo with “Image prompt : http://pull.imgfave.netdna-cdn.com/imag … 02864.jpeg

Home

She was scared. Nervous actually, she corrected herself. The roads were packed with people and vehicles.The noises were almost deafening. The drums , excited children, frustrated grown-ups, irritated shopkeepers – all add to the set of voices that together troubled her a bit.  She loved lonely walks, yet never ventured out of her neighbourhood alone. Ironic that it may sound, her wandering habbits were limited to within 10 miles of her home. “Never at home , never so far from home either” , her mother’s favorite line about her. She always felt there was a different meaning of this line.

She had travelled from far in search of some answers. She could not let her fears paralyze her now. She looked around , feeling scared from every harsh look at her. she felt so tiny, she wanted to vanish some how. And then the music hit her. She had never heard anything like that. The drums faded from her ears, all she felt was a heart beat – not hers she soon realized, but of the approaching circle of people. Dressed in black, some men and women , equal in munbers, had formed a circle with a speaker in the middle. They slowly started a chant, clapping their right hand on left side of the chest – exactly above te heart. It was as rythmic as it could be, and it was heard clearly. Very clearly she mused,looking around. Every one had falled silent. She could feel the skin on her arms tingle with excitement. She was losing herself in the music and getting dragged into the crowd.She did not resist it even once. Soon she found herself a part of the circle moving  sideways as she added her silent clap to the song.The speaker turned to her, gave a smile and said in a whisper , “You are the odd one. Welcome. We been looking for your questions.Here the road ends for you.” And then everything spaced out. She found herself standing in the middle of the road, people staring at her with concern and confusion. but the music lingered in her soul. And that she followed from there on , all life long, in search of the speaker, who for once showed her the home she wished and the way to find it.

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For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Jay Andrew Allen challenged me with “Never been so far from home” and I challenged Jen O. with “Open the page of your favorite book/ or have your favorite poem or story (first 10-15 lines) open in front of you. Pick one word from each line of it and write something using every of those word.”

Introduce her

“It’s not that I’m trying to keep it a secret. It’s not clandestine—not exactly.”
“Then please explain what exactly is it, my dear”, dad said stressing each word while writing another letter,maybe to his publisher.
“I wanted to introduce her to you,but not like this”, I said befuddled at being caught red handed.
“Then how?” he looked straight at me.
“After I was done developing her a bit more,I would have come to you myself”
“You already did a good job, son” he said handing me back the manuscript of my first novel.

Prompted by Victoria’s Monday Writing Prompt
Also submitted to Sunday Scribbling