Sunday, 4 December 2016

The First Snow
They were looking at the snow-covered tree; the old man had a wistful look and child had a curious look.
‘Grandpa, it’s just amazing, this snow. I wish I had come here earlier.’
The old man looked at the child, almost bewitched. How could the child say the same words? The child looked at his grandpa and smiled. He even smiles like her, the old man thought.
It was almost fifty years back when they had come to this place. She had never been to the mountains and the first snow had mesmerized her.
‘It’s just amazing, this snow; I wish I had come here earlier.’ She smiled; he felt an imperceptible squeeze on his hand.
The child tugged at the grandpa’s sleeve; the old man came out of his reverie. He felt sad for her; the child would have made her ecstatic.

Word count 143

Friday, 2 December 2016

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields
                                                                                Photo prompt © Jan Wayne Fields

‘I know you’re going to turn prickly but I have to admit I misled you.
‘There are some Bigfoots around here, that’s the rumour. We are going to search for Bigfoot.
They laughed thinking that it was one was his quintessential pranks. But it wasn't a prank.
They were dumbstruck. They ought to have known; he was a rabid adventurer.
‘Are you out of your mind? We don’t even have a toy-gun for protection.’
‘I have brought my father’s revolver.’
At that moment there was some commotion; there was something outside their tent. They all froze in fear.
A hairy hand entered the tent, it was holding a revolver.
Word count 108

Sunday, 27 November 2016

The Convict
                                                                                       Photo prompt © CEayr 

Surprisingly they were all there; wife, two boys and their wives. He wasn’t sure if they would all come.
But their eyes were as bleak and grim as the prison cell he had just left.
‘They don’t believe me. And why should they? Am I not a convict who spent ten years in the prison?’
He had desperately wished that at least his wife would believe him. She had sometimes said that the judge had been unjust. But he thought her protestations were weak.
He wanted to ask her if she truly believed that he was innocent. But he didn’t.
He felt he was only moving from one prison to another.
A post for Friday Fictioneers

Word count 111

Friday, 25 November 2016

A Mercy Plea
The sky was ablaze. Everyone thought that it was just an unusually magnificent sunset.
But people were in for a shock. Weird flying objects emerged from the flaming sky and began hovering over the city. It was a terrifying scene.
Rongen was not scared. He had all along believed that there were hundreds of alien civilizations out in the universe. He had secretly invented a radio telescope and had been communicating with some aliens. But the poor man did not know that his messages were sometimes getting distorted and garbled versions were reaching the aliens.
Suddenly the sky turned black and the lights went out; it was the beginning of a long, scary night.
The sun rose. But the day was no less terrifying. Dinosaurs were roaming freely everywhere in the city.
Rongen woke up as if from a nightmare. He rushed to his radio telescope; he had got an alien mail, ‘Please do not attack us. We accept your demand. We are sending these creatures back. Please have mercy on us.’
Rongen stood paralyzed; the nightmare had in fact just begun.
A post for Flash Fictionfor Aspiring Writers on a picture prompt

Word count 179

Thursday, 24 November 2016

The Clouds
As a child he was fascinated by the clouds. He believed that clouds were living beings; he always had a running argument with his grandpa.
‘Grandpa, that cloud over there looks like an elephant and it just moved its trunk.’
‘Don’t talk rubbish; that’s just a cloud and not an elephant.’
‘You never seem to agree; look there, it surely is a baby dinosaur........its crawling.’
‘You keep imagining things; I think when you grow up you must study the clouds.’
He did choose to study the clouds but his imagination never left him.
He woke from his slumber. He had been traveling for hours and journey seemed endless. It had been a hectic week; he had spoken at ten different venues on ten different topics. He looked through the window and thought that there was giant baby somewhere out there.
Soon he realized that he was looking at a cloud. He smiled; the grandfather would have made fun of him.

A post for Sunday Photo Fiction

Sunday, 20 November 2016

The Master
PHOTO PROMPT © Bj√∂rn Rudeberg
                                                                                  Photo prompt © Bjorn Rudberg

He had not touched a musical instrument in last five years. But the music had never deserted him.
Sometimes he wondered that it was idiotic of him not to accept their proposal; they would have made him rich. He had to just tinker with his compositions. But he was fiercely passionate about his music; he had declined.
‘What a harebrained person I am?’
He was walking past the restaurant in a lackadaisical manner when he heard the sounds. Someone was playing his composition; a composition that he would not tinker with.
He felt sad for the composition; it had been mutilated.

Word count 101

Monday, 7 November 2016

The Trading Post
                                                                                         Photo prompt © Jean L Hays

‘Grandpa, are you sure we are at the right place?’
‘I think so. But it seems so unfamiliar.’
‘We have been driving around for eight hours. Let’s turn back; it will be dark soon for we won’t find any place here for the night.’
‘But he had said that he will be there at the trading post, come what may. I too had promised that I would come.’
‘When? Fifty years ago? You never even talked to him all these years. And you think he would be there.’   
‘I think so; he is a man of his word.’
Out of nowhere an old man appeared and slowly approached their car.
A post for Friday Fictioneers

Word count 108