#TellTaleThursday – 28th March 2019

Prompt for this week –

You spend a night in the cemetery.

Write a story describing your experience.

Word count – 183 Words

The dead and the buried

Cemetery for fiction writing

#TellTaleThursday – Weekly Fiction Writing

The dead silence of the night perturbed him. Though he didn’t believe in ghosts, spending a night amongst the dead and the buried was not something he was looking forward to. But $100 was a lot, it could put food on the table for one whole week.

He found a clean looking tombstone and sat on it. The matured moon was hidden behind thick dark clouds.

“Who are you?” a thick voice demanded. He almost peed in his pants. He turned to see an old and weary man approaching him.

“Mike?”

“And you?”

“Joe Rodriguez,” the old man answered.

“What has brought you here?”

“$100 if I stay put,” Mike replied confidently now the initial fear had subsided.

“It’s no place for a young lad like you.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Mike answered. The old man nodded and disappeared into the dark of the night.

The next moment, the clouds parted and the moon shone on the tombstone.

Joseph Xavier Rodriguez

1893 – 1965

A loving son, husband and father

Mike passed out, but not before he felt the wetness of his pants.

The rules are simple:

  • Write a story, complete in itself.
  • Check spelling, grammar, and punctuation.
  • Copy and paste your Story URL to the inLinkz list.
  • The story should be up to 250 words.
  • Add this line < #TellTaleThursday with Anshu & Priya > at the end of the post.
  • Read, comment and share – spread the love.


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#TellTaleThursday – 21st March 2019

The rules are simple:

  • Write a story, complete in itself.
  • Check spelling, grammar, and punctuation.
  • Copy and paste your Story URL to the inLinkz list.
  • The story should be up to 250 words.
  • Add this line < #TellTaleThursday with Anshu & Priya > at the end of the post.
  • Read, comment and share – spread the love.

Here’s the prompt:

people holding pouches with colored powders


Wishing you all a very Happy Holi!!

Word count – 184 Words

Holi Hai

He dressed in all whites ready for his first holi in the village. He was looking forward to the festivities – drinking bhaang (weed), throwing colours, teasing girls and if he was lucky touching them at all the interesting places. Holi gives the license to do what one wants and then apologise if need be with, “Bura mat mano, holi hai!” (Don’t mind, it’s Holi).

As he went to the main bazaar, girls were standing with the sticks. He stepped forward with his gang of boys. The girls hit lightly at first and then recollecting the shame and discomfort when these boys whistled at them, talked in indecent language and touched them at inappropriate places increased the intensity of hitting.

Soon he started shouting in distress. But his pleas were drowned in loud blaring of music from the loudspeakers. While his friends ran away, he was caught and made to parade in the gullies of the village in a sari.

He was whistled at, touched and groped. And the girls shouted, “Bura mat mano, holi hai!” This groping business wasn’t as much fun after all.

Note: Holi is the festival of colours celebrated in India. In Barsana, a town in Mathura where Lord Krishna is believed to be, people play lathmar holi where ladies hit the menfolk with sticks and the ones who are caught are made to parade wearing women’s clothes. It’s all done in fun. However, in my story, the girls of the village are taking revenge for all the indecent behaviour they have undergone. 

 

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#TellTaleThursday – 14th March 2019

The rules are simple:

  • Write a story, complete in itself.
  • Check spelling, grammar, and punctuation.
  • Copy and paste your Story URL to the inLinkz list.
  • The story should be up to 250 words.
  • Add this line < #TellTaleThursday with Anshu & Priya > at the end of the post.
  • Read, comment and share – spread the love.

Here’s the prompt:

Two men walking in the alley

Pic Image: Pexels


 

Word count – 241 Words

An unexpected evening

“Come over tonight?” Sheila said in her sultry voice. He had been angling for this invitation for over six months now. Sheila was his best friend’s wife and it was becoming increasingly difficult task to keep their attraction a secret. In his company, they always feared their faces or body language would give it away.

“Is he traveling?” He asked, excitement building in his voice and his gut.

“Why do you think I called you for?”

He was on cloud nine the whole day. He packed up early that night. Picking up a fine bottle of red and a bouquet of sweet-smelling roses, her favourite, he reached her apartment. He saw a tall figure in a black hood at the end of the lane. Shrugging his shoulders, he opened the main door with his set of keys that she had given him.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he finally arrived at her flat. Meaning to surprise her, he opened the door and stepped inside. Thinking she must be in the bedroom, he went to the kitchen to decant the wine. He stumbled at the sight awaiting him in the kitchen and staggered. On the floor, she was lying down with a knife stabbed deeply into her stomach. Her eyes were wide open and her lips painted red, the same colour as the pool of blood around her.

Who was that man in the hood? Didn’t he look oddly familiar?

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#FridayFictioneers – Museum of old, chipped and broken

Image by Yours Truly!

Written for Friday Fictioneers

Thank you Rochelle for featuring this image.

Museum of old, chipped and broken

Is this a house or a museum??

What do you mean?

Just look around. It looks everything old, chipped and broken has found their way into our house. There’s this chipped coffee mug!

But I have planted rosemary in it.

And that old wooden crate.

It makes our bio compost.

And the broken pot, why aren’t you showing it the door?

Because it holds my precious roses.

He shook his head in frustration. She thought it was wise to stay mum about her latest find from the junkyard.

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#WriteBravely – Forgetfulness (90 words)

I am taking part in the Write Tribe Festival of Words.

And today’s prompt is –

A lady in red in a labyrinth of hallways

#WriteBravely – Forgetfulness – Pic off Pexels.com

Forgetfulness

She was becoming forgetful these days. Car keys would be in the rice jar and her glasses would be in the shoes. Yesterday evening, she spent 30 minutes looking for her phone while it was in her pocket all the time.

She decided to see the doctor on the weekend.

In the night, she visited a palace with many doors and narrow hallways. She entered one room after another.

It was time to get up. She would get late for work. Time to return. But how? She had forgotten the way.

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#WriteBravely – The tale of two cities (90 words)

I am taking part in the Write Tribe Festival of Words.

And today’s prompt is – Nurture

blue door in David Street, Darya Ganj, New Delhi

Darya Ganj, Delhi – Pic off The Delhi Walla

The tale of two cities

“I would like to visit Lahore one more time before I close my eyes. I want to feel the earth and smell the air of the city that has nurtured this soul,” said the fading poet. His friends and fans nodded in empathy.

A piece of news spread like wild fire in the silence of the night. Hearts raged and blood boiled.

The next morning, he was found in a bylane of Darya Ganj – blood-less, breath-less, life-less.

His friends and fans didn’t feel remorse. One city nurtures, another one takes.

 

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#TellTaleThursday – 7th March 2019

The rules are simple:

  • Write a story, complete in itself.
  • Check spelling, grammar, and punctuation.
  • Copy and paste your Story URL to the inLinkz list.
  • The story should be up to 250 words.
  • Add this line < #TellTaleThursday with Anshu & Priya > at the end of the post.
  • Read, comment and share – spread the love.

Here’s the prompt:

An uninvited guest to a party


Word count – 249 Words

A ruined evening

On entering her bedroom suite, Mrs. Wadia noticed the maid had forgotten to shut the window. Mrs. Wadia cursed unladylike and proceeded to shut it.

As soon as she emerged, the maid came running. “Madam! The cook accidentally dropped the soup tureen.”

“Oh! I will order some soup from the restaurant down the lane.” She was shaken but it would do her no good to be upset at tiny things.

The guests arrived except Mr. and Mrs. Irani. The doorbell rang and the latecomers entered.

Now, who was this girl with them? Mrs. Wadia wondered.

“Hello Delnaz, my niece missed her flight. She said she would stay at home alone but I would not hear of it. I told her we are visiting friends and she will be welcome at Delnaz’s.”

Mrs. Wadia was not amused. Little was she to know that this girl was not the only unexpected visitor of the evening. The  dining table was set, not only she would now need to make an extra place for the young girl but also fetch a chair from the study. And that chair would not match the dining chairs.

The guests seated themselves around the table and appreciated the flavourful aromas that filled the room. Mrs. Wadia smiled.

The maid brought the soup tureen and as she began to serve, a fat gecko fell in it. The guests started laughing. Mrs. Wadia on the other hand gasped, she was mortified with shame and rage. And then she fainted.

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