Skip to main content

Catharsis #FridayFictioneers #100words

My charismatic father was a magnificent horse rider, prolific writer, and an astute statesman; a tall benchmark that I could never match. His demise roused sleeping demons I hoped to vanquish.

His room was as clean and uncluttered as I remembered it. And, there, among the humongous collection of official and personal letters, lay an unposted letter addressed to me.

“Son, I was too vain to tell you this while I lived but I’m proud of you for choosing a path less trodden; something I’d wished for myself once.”

Tears flowed unrestrained; the past had made peace with the present.

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields
Word count: 100

100 word story written in response to the photo prompt at Friday Fictioneers at Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. You can post one of your own or read the other entries here.


  1. keep are very good at writing day you will become a great author

  2. Dear Uma,

    I like the way things were resolved at last for the son. Nice one.



  3. That was such a profound story Uma. 'The past had made peace with the present' - Lovely line.
    But I wish he had said it while he was still alive.

    1. I wish that too but for some ego is a huge hurdle to cross, isn't it? Thanks a lot, Aarthy!

  4. Beautiful writing, Uma! I look forward to visiting your space :-)

    1. aww, Divya..that's such a sweet thing to made my day :-)

  5. hmmm this reminded me of a similar experience when I had gone back to india after a long time , My grandfather said this to me that although he did not like when i chose my path as i was so bad at studies he was happy that i chose what i chose ..


    1. I'm so glad that your grandfather told this to you. It makes such a difference, no?

  6. Sometimes it is important to take the road less traveled by. Nicely conveyed here.

  7. Dear Uma, Wonderful story with a peaceful ending for the son - excellent. Sometimes people die without telling those they love the most important thing. Great story! Nan :)

    1. You summed it up perfectly, Nan and thank you for being generous in your appreciation as always :-))

  8. We all crave for the understanding and acceptance of our parents.
    This was lovely.

  9. Uma, Wonderful that the father left that letter for his son. It was too bad he didn't tell him in person before he died. At least the son got peace, and will have the letter to remind him of his father. Well written. : ) ---Susan

  10. Ah, how bittersweet! Beautifully done, Uma. Peace at last.


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