Skip to main content

Posts

Showing posts from October, 2014

Quid Pro Quo

A pair of strong hands pushed him against a corner of the damp cell, and he felt his lips bristle.
Stop!
Never hooked up before, huh?
Not with men.
There’s always a first time; you don’t think the snout came for free! 
___________ Word count:42 ___________


Learning curves

Little Brian, who accompanied his dad on his morning walk, was intrigued by the monument that had two forked out, crawled figures atop a stone.
Brian’s dad sat him down and explained, “Son, the choices taken when at a fork will decide if you can swim against the tide or sink with the wave.”
Years later:
The match was poised evenly. Yet, the tension in Brian’s team was palpable for various reasons, and at halftime, Brian broke away from it all to mull over. 
Sweat dripping, Brian sank into the chair, eyes closed. His temples throbbed as his mind replayed the game. He could not underplay the silent war of number- snatching and record building between him and his forward partner.  
Brian wiped out his sweat and swept a glance at the crowd. His dad’s smiling face looked out and he gave Brian a ‘thumbs up’ sign. That was his cue.
The game resumed.
The shuffle, the scuttle continued, the chances came close and so did egos. Looks got exchanged, one gave in, the other gratefully took over,…

Music heals like no other medicine

Alex sat with an awkward pose; his eyes carried the look of hurt and rejection from being side-lined by the other boisterous boys of his age.
“Such a weirdo, cannot even judge a simple catch!”
“Have you noticed, he never looks in the eye? Gives me the creeps”
The words no longer numbed Amy as she bravely fought the world for her autistic son.
“I see a genius in him” Gerald, his music teacher, had told her once and she believed him.
Amy knew she had won as Alex’s fingers played magically on the keyboard and silenced the apathetic world.
____________ 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.

The diagnosis

“Doctor, I can’t stop when I get the urge,” declared Gerry, his arms shaking and fingers twitching!
“The monstrous voices in my head keep pleading until I give in,” continued Gerry encouraged by the kind doctor’s sympathetic nod.
“My wife is just sick of me and has given me an ultimatum, failing which, she has threatened to leave me,” tears pricked Gerry’s eyes as he whispered the last line feeling like an absolute failure.
The doctor took a deep breath and cleared his throat before pronouncing Gerry's diagnosis and medication, “Gerry, you suffer from acute Writobiatics, a condition in which the hunger to write does not subside until the patient unleashes the flood of words on to a sheet; it is incurable and the patient is mostly confined to using the crutch of a pen or a keyboard throughout his life.”
“However,” the doctor added, causing Gerry’s feelings to change from utter disbelief to immense relief, “You can manage the symptoms well if you follow a healthy diet of writing a…

Betrayed

Passion ignited that night when modesty lay bared for love. The flames died out on a cold morning when two pink lines knocked the door for commitment. Her mom’s words rang a bell, “Sometimes, love isn't enough”.  
She welcomed their future alone.

Word count:42 ____________________


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.
____________ 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.