Skip to main content

Office politics #Friday Fictioneers

As a rookie accountant in the small, dusty office, I had to learn the ropes of the trade fast.

“Get the invoices from the previous year!” the pot-bellied manager growled from behind his desk.

He was a weird guy whose shifting eyes gave me the creeps. He was not the only one who gave me the chills, though. I remember getting into the record room to fish out old invoices.

I nearly screamed in horror as the ram stared back at me nonchalantly. I had inadvertently opened a Pandora’s Box and poaching was among many evils that stumbled out. 

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Adam Ickes

Words: 100

Written in response to the photo prompt at Friday Fictioneers


  1. Dear Uma,

    Careful opening those boxes.



    1. haha, yes, Rochelle, I'll be careful :-)

  2. ah..a good take on the prompt. :D

  3. Yes, that goat creeped me out too ;) nice, Uma :)

    1. oh..definitely a creepy thing! thanks, Shailaja :-)

  4. I love the choice of words and structure of the story...especially the end about pandora's box :)

    1. I'm glad you liked it, thanks much :-)

  5. Uma, Good story and well written. After the creepy manager, that rams's head could very well give her a fright. Well done. : ) ---Susan

  6. Uma, Please excuse the typo in the second sentence. It should be "ram's" head with no extra "s." ---Susan

  7. :) I would want a pandora box for sure :)


    1. And, why would you want one, Bikram??!! :-)


Post a Comment

Would love to hear from you :-)
Also, please click the subscribe by Email link below the comment form to get follow-up comments to your inbox..

Popular posts from this blog

Caffeinated attraction

Words jostled inside Anusha's head as she snaked her way between the tables to her favourite spot in the cozy cafe. She slid her laptop out, rested the bag beside her on the silver grey cushioned sofa and called for her favourite cappuccino. They made it just the way she preferred: the right amount of milk and coffee, the closest alternative to the filter kaapi her mom made.

Gazing out of the glass window, she sipped her beverage, letting the bitter-sweet taste linger, weighing her thoughts before her fingers could fly on the keyboard to give shape to them. The white fluffs of clouds against the clear blue skies floated gently with the summer breeze and they seemed, to the writer in her, like mischevious sheep that had strayed off the flock.

Oh, well, it's my mind that's straying now. Need to get my act right for my next submission. Anusha willed herself back to the present.

The cafe was Anusha's muse, the mecca she haunted during the weekends for the past three months…

The wedding

Holding hands under the inky blue bejeweled canopy, they swore allegiance to each other. Bedecked in a brown shimmery, the translucent veil flowing away from her coy face, she looked up nervously at him. He replied with an imperceptible nod that spoke volumes of quiet reassurance.

Family and friends had gathered for the ceremony that would bind the two lovers for life. The atmosphere was electrifying and the air abuzz with each of them signaling to the other in a frenzy of activity. A huddle in here, a huddle there, some grouping for a light tete-a-tete, some to discuss an important ritual.

The younger lot broke away from the crowd, not entirely connecting with the significance of the gathering, their individual frames dotting the arena like lost stars.

At the precise moment that would signify the sacred union, the chief called for everyone's unwavering attention. The scattered swarm, even the ones that had strayed, converged obediently towards the altar. Each member of the audie…

Rotting humanity

Doc, there's an emergency!

The breaking news flashes the brutal carnage. Images and voices float in my mind as I drive in manic speed to the hospital.

Of sirens blazing. Of toys and limbs lying scattered on a carpet of red and brown.

Oxygen! I scream. Pump, harder.

Doc, there's no pulse.

Shoulders slump.

I witness grief fuse into flames that rise up collectively at the mass funeral. The ashes fall lightly on me.

Will the stench of hate ever recede?

*** Written for a prompt at