Flash Fiction: In the moment

Flash Fiction: In the moment

IMG_5478.JPG

D.I Lucy was led through a snow-covered narrow pathway which led to the penthouse’s door. Both sides were bordered by a variety of flowers consisting of chrysanthemums, oleanders; those were the only two she could identify under the blanket of ice which formed thorny cushions on the plants.

One in particular caught her gaze. Slowing her pace, she tried to place the flower in her mind. What was it called again?

It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
D.I Lucy’s thoughts were interrupted by her guide who wasn’t much of a talker, which suited Lucy just fine.
“I noticed you staring at that flower a little longer“.

D.I Lucy managed a weak smile in return as they arrived the house door, making a mental note to check out the guide later on- she was observant. D.I Lucy made three sharp knocks on the door, bracing herself for the worst part of her job- breaking bad news.


Word count: 154 words. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge where each week we are given a picture and are to write a 75-175 word story surrounding it. Thank you very much @loniangraphics for this week’s photo.

Flash Fiction: Death’s Edge

Flash Fiction: Death’s Edge

photo-20170403154705794

Death’s edge was as gruesome as its name. The air smelled like a mixture of burnt wood and rotten meat, the atmosphere had a constant haze around it and the trees had several twisted branches which mimicked wrinkled hands pulling at a person especially with the forest’s limited lighting.

This was the reason D.S Fenworthy was sceptical about being sent to pick up his boss and partner D.I Lucy who happened to be at death’s edge. Lucky enough, he found D.I Lucy standing at the side of the road, casually dressed in baggy pants and a hoodie, her black scarf on her head and a bag slung over her shoulder. D.S Fenworthy was only too grateful to have no reason to enter death’s edge.

He looked at his boss, swallowed hard, then said, “can I ask you a question, boss?”
Seeing D.I Lucy’s nod, he continued, “you okay?”
D.I Lucy fixed her gaze towards the road, twirling her empty ring finger with her right hand and letting the silence answer.


word count: 170. This story is in response to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge hosted by priceless Joy where each week a picture is provided and we are to write a 75-175 word story on it. Thank You very much @yarnspinner for this week’s picture. 

Flash Fiction: Coincidence

Flash Fiction: Coincidence

IMG_5358.JPG

“My son is missing”

Within minutes, Parkland Forest was thronged by Law enforcement officials- tents were set up and search parties, dispatched. D.I Lucy and her partner D.S Fenworthy were seated in one of the tents, across a woman with dishevelled brown hair and tear stained cheeks. She was fidgeting in her chair, looking from one detective to the other.

Can you please take us through everything that’s happened, Miss Jerome?” It wasn’t a request on D.I Lucy’s part.
You can call me Susan,” she answered in a low voice and began to talk the detectives, somewhat calmly, through every detail of the trip, up until the moment she couldn’t find her 8 year old son.

At D.I Lucy’s request, Susan got up to get the detectives a picture of Jake, the missing boy, giving the detectives time to converse.

She obviously looks distressed“, said D.I Lucy, “and notice how she chokes whenever she mentions Jake by name.”

“Yes, but boss”, added D.S Fenworthy, “I haven’t been in this department long, but I have never met the mother of a missing kid who didn’t lash out during interview, wondering what on earth we were doing seated instead of out there looking for their kids”.

Nice observation”, remarked D.I Lucy.

Susan came into the tent after a few mintes and with her was the picture of a young boy- raven black hair, brown skin with a smiling face. She handed over the picture to D.I Lucy, and for someone who was a pro at her job, she couldn’t mask the shock on her face. D.I Lucy looked from the picture, to the woman standing in front of her. The recognition of the face in the picture registering in her mind and the words Fenworthy had just said, playing in her head. Susan didn’t lash out earlier because this wasn’t her first time being in the situation; she’s been through it before and knows how the investigation goes.

Miss Jerome?” Blurted out D.I Lucy
At that moment, tears descended across Susan’s face as she nodded in affirmation.
Yes,” her voice was breaking, “Jake’s twin brother got missing three years ago and was never found.”

D.S Fenworthy looked to his partner in shock and then asked the mother, “what was the date?”
24th of March.
D.S Fenworthy immediately looked to his phone although he already knew the answer. Today’s date was also 24th of march.
That’s one heck of a coincidence.


wrote a flash fiction about two weeks ago with the characters D.I Lucy and D.S Fenworthy, and I loved the idea of writing a story surrounding detectives ad partners so I thought I’d write another one again. And I’m sorry, but that is where the story ends, it’s  not a series and there’s won’t be a continuation. Though I might occasionally write on the two characters.

The above image is courtesy of Scary Mommy.com

Flash Fiction: The Piano Man

Flash Fiction: The Piano Man

photo-20170306154630013

The piano was bundled up and sent for forensics with an “urgent” note attached to it. Meanwhile, D.I Lucy and her new Partner, D.S Fenworthy surveyed the crime scene.

What’s your take?”

D.S Fenworthy replied without missing a beat, “never have I seen the crime scene of a horrific bloody murder without even a speck of dirt.”

“The killer cleans up nicely huh?” Jumped in Lucy.

“I’ll say.” Replied Fenworthy, shuddering inwards. “It was a bloody kill. The coroner estimates, the victim should have lost over 3 pints of blood, if not more from injuries she sustained.”

“and not a drop is present here for the CSI to work on,” concluded Lucy.

They both looked around in silence at the spotless parlour, until D.S fenworthy finally uttered what they both feared,

“you think it’s him again, boss?”

well, we haven’t received a package yet, which is his signature, so“, She shrugged, sounding hopeful.

Just then, a voice called from outside,

“Boss, we found a package”. 

D.S Lucy shuddered at the thought of its contents. 


Word count: 173. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge hosted by priceless Joy, where each week we are given an image and are to write a 75-175 word story in it. It’s  been a while since I wrote on my favourite genre “crime” so I thought I’d give it a shot. Thank you very much Mike Vore for this week’s photo.

Flash Fiction: cool or creepy?

Flash Fiction: cool or creepy?

image

Every other Saturday, Jianna and Rosy took a break from their busy school schedules and visited the neighbourhood park, playing their favourite pass-time, “cool or creepy”.

Rosy claimed, she had a gift of knowing people. She’d once read in a book that identical twins were born with supernatural gifts and had been obsessed with the idea ever since, firmly believing hers to be the gift to Judge a person at first sight. Jianna thought it to be nothing but a house wives tale, still, she indulged her twin sister

“So, what do you think about that guy there with the blue on blue?” Jianna asked
“Him? Definitely creepy”, Rosy replied casually.
Jianna took a good long look at the man and concluded, Rosy was just a weird person.

At night, in the comfort of her dormitory, Jianna turned on the radio to hear an alert about a man who had kidnapped a girl from the park. The only thing to identify him, he wore a blue shirt with a blue cap.


Word count: 171. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge. Each week, a picture is given and we are to write a story of 75-175 words only. Thank you very much @The storyteller’s abode for this week’s photo.

Flash Fiction: The Mysterious Gem

Flash Fiction: The Mysterious Gem

image

“It’s not just a gem”, began Mr Parker, trying to convince his daughter that the gem he got her was something more.

“Yeah… And Father Christmas is not just a myth”, she concluded. Two things were obvious to Mr Parker: one, his little girl was growing up and two, she wasn’t buying into his magical gem story.

“Alright honey”, Mr Parker gave up. “The truth is, the conference went on too long and I didn’t have time to get you that book you wanted, or get you anything really”. And then he confessed to coming across an Airport trader, Fatima Bhi, who traded Arabian items and she sold him the gem.

“It’s alright”, Sarah sighed “at least you didn’t just forget like the last time”.

Sarah placed the gem on her bedside drawer that night, when a bright pink light emanated from the gem illuminating the entire a room. Wide-eyed and terrified, a feminine voice spoke in a calming tone:
               “I hear someone is in need of a little love”.


Word count:169. The above story is in response to Flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge, hosted by Priceless Joy. This week’s image was provided by an amazing blogger, Jade.M thank you.

Flash Fiction: The new tenants

Flash Fiction: The new tenants

image.jpeg

“Don’t!”, Ibrahim’s voice resonated in the silence.
“Why can’t I follow that lane?”, Sana protested. Ibrahim lingered a moment too long in indecision and his sister, Sana, turned towards the opposite street when her hand was jerked backwards.

“Rumour has it, the new tenants of funky munky are cultists“, Ibrahim conceded. Then added, “you know, blood drinkers”.
“I know what cultists are”, Sana retorted, rubbing her wrist where he’d grabbed her.

She looked at the eccentric house- With its curtain-tight windows and closed door, the place looked empty, as was the norms of the houses in the area. The only audible sounds were the occasional screeching of passing cars.

Ibrahim’s thick black brows were furrowed and he wore his lips in a thin line- Sana decided he was serious. They walked in silence before He broke the ice,
“So, I guess we’re back to not talking huh?
Her silence was enough answer. Ibrahim smiled, knowing his sister couldn’t stay mad if her life depended on it. They’d soon as well make up.


word cont: 172 words. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge, where each week we are provided with a picture and required a 75-175 word story on it. Thank you @TJParis for providing us with his week’s picture. 

Flash Fiction: Snapped

Flash Fiction: Snapped

image

Miss Blanche was an OCD, pattern obsessed lovely neighbor. Each day, she got out at a certain time, washed, cleaned, shopped and my favorite- painted in the middle of her picturesque garden which I, as the only neighborhood kid then, was given the honor of an open invitation at all times.

She’d stand in her garden, wearing a pink top and black pant and work the magic of her paint brush onto the board. She didn’t talk much, which suited me fine because all my attention was on her work of art which always turned out spectacular. That was our life until twelve years back.

I awoke one morning to find a yellow tape around Miss blanche’s house. She had been charged with first degree murder of her husband, following 62 stab wounds in their living room. I didn’t believe it until she pled guilty in court. That day I learnt something about humans, for a darling like Miss Blanche to snap, Lord only knows what goes on in married homes.


word count: 170. This post is in response to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. This week’s photo prompt was provided by Graham Lawrenece, Thank you! If you would like to participate or read other flash fiction stories, just click on the link above.

Flash Fiction: Retmor Manor

Flash Fiction: Retmor Manor

image

Lucinda slugged her way through a rocky, undulating pathway to arrive at the hill-top. Stopping to catch her breath, she noted down the exterior of Retmor manor, all the while, cursing her luck for getting the most boring assignment- History of Retmor manor.

It was a ginormous stony rectangular building with high walls and an isolated tower placed at each angle. A narrow metal door led towards the interior of the building and there were no other exits. The first floor was bare while the second contained portraits lined across it’s walls. At the far-right corner was the picture of a lady who could pass for “18th century Lucille”. Lucille stared jaw-dropped at the picture, lost for words. She rubbed her eyes, re-affirming it wasn’t in fact a dream.

Just then a male voice boomed all around the mansion, Lucille’s heart quickened and pulse raced. “Don’t be scared, your highness“, the voice said “this is only your destiny“. The color drained from Lucille’s face and all she could think of was “I am so screwed”.


word count: 175. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge, hosted by Priceless Joy. Every week, a new photo is released and the participants are required to write a 150 word story (give of take 25). It is so much fun participating named also reading the wonderful stories written by the other writers. Do check out the link above, there is a story for everybody there.

Flash Fiction: Who dunnit?

Flash Fiction: Who dunnit?

image

A loud explosion rocked the Gotham’s town hall, it was a time of great upheal. The skimpy dressed, high heeled ladies found themselves kicking the heels and running helter skelter within moments. Married men forgot their wives, Sirs forgot their mistresses, ladies forgot their friends, only mothers remembered for a moment to find their kids whereabout.

It all started with the ice-duck like statue. One minute, men were sipping wine and gazing at the intricate and beautifully finished gallant design of an ice duck, the next, a rumble originating from the ice-duck’s pit and crumbling of blocks sent them running.

For months after the explosion, the town hall was rarely visited by sane individuals and the question of “who dunnit” died down like the explosion.

Oldman Grimes couldn’t help but roar out in a manner fit to wake the dead whenever he thought of the ice-duck job. “Ahh, it was so easy”, he boasted wiping a tear from his eyes. Of all the tricks he’s played on an ex, that was his favorite.


Word count: 173 This post is in response to the Flash fiction for Aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. I apologize for the late response and my absence from the blogosphere. Travelled to a place with very poor network, will be leaving by Friday. I can’t wait to read all if your wonderful posts when I get back. 🙂