Flash Fiction: Evil Genius

Flash Fiction: Evil Genius

IMG_3458.JPG

Randy was the new kid in class, so he didn’t get to see Bradshaw hills with us during last term’s excursion. For this term’s, we had formulated a plan to trick him. Bradshaw hills was unique for its cave markings. The class as a whole decided to pretend we couldn’t see the markings on the cave, to make Randy think he’s going nuts when he points at them.

It was funny when we planned it. What began as a joke ended up with Randy screaming his head off and throwing a tantrum to the teacher, declaring that he was losing it. It resulted in his parents being called to take him home and “we” all scared and getting a week of punishment.

That night, I got a call from Randy, thanking me for getting him 2 days off school to rest. Turns out, he had been to Bradshaw hills before and knew of its markings. He only played along because he could use it to his advantage.

Oh the little evil genius.


Word count:171. The above story is jn response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. Thank you @Any1Mark66 for this week’s picture.

Advertisements
Flash Fiction: Undercover Op

Flash Fiction: Undercover Op

IMG_2445.JPG

D.S Fenworthy was almost unrecognisable in his new attire. He stood across the street, dressed in an all-white monk robe, capped with a realistic looking balding cap. He wasn’t thrilled with his new look, but pokerfaced his way through it. To passersby, he was just another worshipper.

His partner, D.I Lucy, on the other hand was having a field day. She was laughing her head off as she watched him from a safe distance, in a white van. Their week had been a tough one, spent proofing a plan to infiltrate a buddhist cult run by a sociopath who had no regard for religion.

Everyone is in place“, confirmed a voice into D.I Lucy’s head piece, drawing her attention back to the task at hand. Her facial expression contorted into a grim one. It was showtime.


Word count:137. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. Thank you for this week’s photo @dorothy

Flash Fiction: Result Day

Flash Fiction: Result Day

IMG_1916.JPG

My eyes steadily went down the list, Aisha, Alisa, Amal, Basma… I stopped. My heart skipped a beat. I ran through the names again up until Basma. Ameena wasn’t there. My name had been skipped, which meant, I failed the exams.

I walked away from the board in a daze. I failed…. what would my parents say; and I had already told them that results were coming out this week, oh the price of talking too much. My palms were getting sticky, my throat felt like a hot coal had been stuck in it.

Tears formed in my eyes and were starting to trickle down, I let them flow. It was a good few minutes of grief and mourning before a thought occurred. What if, my surname was used on the list. That way it would be Khan Ameena. And I didn’t get to K while checking the list so, I wouldn’t know.

There was a chance after all, I didn’t fail.


Word count: 162. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge where each week we are provided a picturw and are to write a 75-175word on it. Thank you for this week’s photo @Grant-Sud

 

Flash Fiction: The Aftermath

Flash Fiction: The Aftermath

IMG_1439.PNG

It had been a long summer. That was all Sheila used to describe the gruelling months following the murder of her sister, Dahlia. Her days were spent between preparing for court proceedings and the actual court proceedings. College was on hold, her writing job was on hold, even grief was on hold. That summer was all about getting the justice her sister, Dahlia deserved.

Today held a different story as she watched the ship, which would become the home of her parents for the next one month cruise away from the docks, onto foreign lands.
Having second thoughts about not going?”, a voice spoke behind her.

Absolutely not“, Sheila turned to see the smiling face of her twin brother.
“Cruises are not for me,” she added. “And anyway, I’d have to deal with not having Dahlia around me to roam the streets anymore. I can’t keep running”.

She suddenly felt the protective arm of her brother around her and its warmth was enough.


word count: 163. This story is in reaponse to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. Thank you for this week’s picture @barbCT

Flash Fiction: The Social contract

Flash Fiction: The Social contract

IMG_0707.PNG

I opened the notification on my phone to see a huge brown coffee mug with various calligraphic inscriptions adorning it. Sitting on top of the mug was a rose-colored round lensed sunshades.

I didn’t need to see the name of the sender, it had to be my best friend Sadie. Under the picture was a text which read- “I got these as Maud’s birthday gift. Cool huh?” Maud was Sadie’s sister.

I paused for a moment. Sadie loved coffee, Maud hated it; Sadie adored sunshades, Maud couldn’t wear it because her eyesight was myopic. So why would Sadie buy that for Maud?

Then it clicked. They were sisters, they were used to sharing things, Sadie was killing two birds with one stone. She’d conform to the social contract of gift giving, by getting her sister Maud, what she knew would eventually come back to her. 

I didn’t know if I should admire my best friend’s smartness or fear for my own upcoming birthday gift. 


word count: 164. This story is in response to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge, hosted by Priceless Joy. Thank you for this week’s picture @shivamt25

Is there any poetry lover here who noticed the “Sadie and Maud” reference? 😁

Flash Fiction: Round the clock

Flash Fiction: Round the clock

IMG_0558

D.I Lucy gripped the steering wheel of her car with more force than was necessary. Only a few hours ago, she had rounded off the case of a woman who killed her husband in cold blood with such detail in its planning and execution, that it took D.I Lucy and gang several weeks to come up with admissible evidence for court proceedings.

It felt like she had gotten only a few minutes of sleep, when another call came. And now, here she was, driving across the city and beating the sunrise, in a race to see another display of human’s lack of empathy.

Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts.
What!”, she screamed into its speaker after pressing the answer key.

Boss, is everything okay?”, the voice asked.

Its all good Fen. Sorry, I’m just pissed that murderers have no regard for sleep time”.


word count: 143. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers  photo prompt challenge, hosted by priceless Joy. Thank you for this week’s picture @Pamela S. Canepa

Flash Fiction: Life at 8

Flash Fiction: Life at 8

IMG_0393.JPG

Uncle Shankar was Ma’s older brother but I often wondered if maybe one of them was adopted. They couldn’t possibly be genetically related. Uncle was as jovial as Ma was prim, he smiled as often as Ma frowned, he was slender in build while Ma was, well, thick.

We moved in with him and grandma after Dad passed away. I was eight. Every morning, when I went out to go to school, I’d find Uncle on his chair outside beside the flowers. His face would light up when he saw me; it appeared as if the sun shone out of it.

Good morning old lady“, he’d greet me and set me a pun question which, if I answered correctly, would earn me a chocolate. I rarely got that chocolate.

But I was eight and life, couldn’t have been better.


word count: 138. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring writers photo promot challenge hosted by priceless joy. Thank you very much for this week’s photo  @shivamt25

Flash Fiction: Superstitions

Flash Fiction: Superstitions

IMG_0119.JPG

The sun shone through lace draped curtains, announcing the arrival of dawn. I instinctively turned my face away from it. A few more minutes of sleep shouldnt hurt, but my alarm had other plans. Almost on cue, It started ringing. I turned again, groaned and decided today would not be the day for extra sleep.

It was only as I sat upright on the bed that I noticed it. My hands were flexed at a 45 degree and my fingers were each positioned at an odd angle. I tried to extend my hand but felt a dull aching pain in reaction. They also appeared swollen.

The irrational part of me took over and i started thinking- the village witches have finally gotten to me; I should have prayed before going to bed last night. I worked myself into a nervous sweat, before the rational part of me kicked in to remind me- there was a reason doctors existed. Some parts of culture just never leave us, I sigh.


word count: 167. This story is in resoponse to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge. Thank you for this week’s image @artycaptures

Flash Fiction: red-handed

Flash Fiction: red-handed

IMG_6066

Is that what I think it is”, was the first statement which came out of mama’s mouth the minute she stepped into the house. Her gaze went directly to the cup standing in the middle of the living room. 

The horror on our faces was impossible to hide. We didn’t know she was coming back so soon, we didn’t have time to formulate any theories. Heck, we didn’t even think she would be back early enough to see it.

I looked to Tracy and Brianna and they glared back at me. Oh crap!

“Well“, she was clearly waiting for an answer as she motioned towards us three.
I laughed nervously and the words that came out of my mouth were,
At least, it’s not human poop.”

It was too late to take it back; Brianna gasped, Tracy looked like she needed to puke. I glanced at my mum again, and the look on her face told me one thing- Lord help me!


word count: 162 words. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge, hosted by Priceless Joy, where each week we are provided with a photo and are to write a 75-175 word story on it. Thank you very much for this week’s photo @artycaptures.wordpress.com

Facebook page: words of a random. Let’s connect! 

Flash Fiction: Trip down memory lane

Flash Fiction: Trip down memory lane

IMG_6030

The sight of the two boys cycling round the park in a tandem bicycle took me down memory lane to 14, no 15 years back, when mama got my brother Adam and I, a tandem bicycle, to our horror.

It was during the Undertaker & Cain, Jeff & Matt hardy WWE era, and so inspired by them, my brother and I resolved to settle every little dispute, the WWE style- fist fight, uppercut and all. Mama apparently had gotten tired of it and decided to get creative with her punishments.

The next time she caught us fighting, we were ordered to ride on the tandem bike, taking turns to seat at the head. We’d go cycling around the estate yard, singing Barney’s “I love you, you love me”, over and over again while she sits, watching from the veranda.

Safe to say, WWE phase ended pretty quickly in our home.


word count: 146. This story Is in responses to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge hosted by Priceless Joy, where each week, we are provided with an image and are to write a 75-175 word story on it. Thank you for this week’s photo @dorothy.

Facebok page: words of a random. let’s connect!