Skip to main content

In the wars

Megan daintily held the long handle and preened into the oval-shaped frame. Puckering her rosy, full lips, she chirped vainly,

“Is there anyone else as beautiful as I, say, oh, truthful mirror!?”

Rose, who had her nose buried into a book, looked up at Megan from above her thick-rimmed spectacles and sniggered,

“A la wicked queen from Snowhite? Must, say, some resemblance there!”

Bubbling with anger at the snide remark, Megan aimed her object of fascination perfectly at Rose’s head.

Rose caught the bookmark neatly between hysterical laughs, placed it between the pages and rushed to console her little sister.

Copyright-Kent Bonham
____________
Word count: 100
____________
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.

Comments

  1. Dear Uma,

    I don't think Megan needs consoling. I think she needs a good swift kick to her cute little bottom.
    Nice take on the prompt.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. hahaha, true, Rochelle, but Rose shouldn't have needled her. Thank you :-)

      Delete
  2. heheh cuteness this was. sibling rivalry :D

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. hehe, sibling rivalry always has a variety of shades, no? :-D

      Delete

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

An irrational dream

Pazhaniraja Elangovan trudged his way up the small slope on his rusty bicycle, a hand-me-down from one of his rare kind-hearted clients. A package, a heavy brown carton lay tied to the backseat with several ropes. The chains creaked as he pedaled harder on the slope.

Sweat trickled down his shiny brown face. Tiny buds of fresh acne dotted his forehead and chin area that was also beginning to sprout hair.

"Pazhani, don't keep loitering out in the hot sun," his Amma often chided him gently.

Pazhaniraja would dismiss his Amma's plea with silence.

She had suffered enough bringing him up single-handedly but was still worldly naive. What did she know about managing a part-time job as a local delivery boy, a night school, and a full-time dream? thought Pazhani irritatedly but also controlled his tongue.

His dream. Yes, he dreamed of owning his own business someday and making lots of money. He had many ideas but needed time to work on them.

Today, he thought excitedly. Wedn…

Bhutan: The last leg of our journey at Paro and a round up

Did you read the last post about how we made it to the top of the Takstang Monastery? If not, please do go back and read it.
Before I continue, here's a check-list that will come in handy for travelers.
Things to keep in mind while visiting the Taktsang or the Tiger's Nest Monastery 
1. You are supposed to be fully clothed while visiting this one or any other monastery/temple or Dzong in Bhutan. Which means you cannot wear short skirts, shorts, capris or the likes. Even your hands must be covered, so choose a full or three-fourth sleeved suit, top or shirt. Alternatively, you can wear a jacket or shrug.
2. Use of photography/video is prohibited in the inner sanctum of all temples and monasteries. At the Tiger's Nest, you have to surrender your backpacks with mobiles outside with the security. There are no lockers but like I said earlier, it's absolutely safe even without the lockers.
3. Wear a good quality and comfortable pair of sports shoes if you're trekking to …

The fault in our stares #100-wordfiction

He offered to walk her to the station. She sensed his well-toned arm within the suede jacket brushing against her slender, bare one as they tried to match their uneven strides. He leaned in suddenly towards her ear to whisper something. Her tensed muscles relaxed even as her full-throated laughter echoed through the dimly-lit streets. As the wind teased, his hands enveloped her from behind draping the jacket over her.

Despite enjoying the pleasant company, she felt at unease. She instinctively knew they weren't alone that night.

The judgemental stares turned into full-blown gossip by the time she came home.

______
100-word fiction story written for a prompt "The fault in our stares" at the BarAThon second edition.