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.

P- Paul Laurence Dunbar

P- Paul Laurence Dunbar

IMG_5425.JPG

My poet for today’s writer’s quote/ poem Wednesday, in correlation with the atoz challenge I am participating in is, Paul Laurence Dunbar. The first time I came across his work was watching a poetry out loud competition in YouTube, where his poem “we wear the mask” was recited. It was amazing. But that is not the poem I’m going to share today. Today’s poem is titled “sympathy” and all I’ll say is, if you enjoyed reading maya Angelou’s- I know why the caged bird sings, you’ll enjoy this.

Sympathy by Paul Laurence Dunbar
I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals–
I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting–
I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,–
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings–
I know why the caged bird sings!

Night is not just night-

Night is not just night-

IMG_5362

Night is not just night,
She says,
It’s the end of wear from
Another day,
Its the want of every tired limb,
To graze the bed
And be engulfed within,

Night is not just night,
she says,
It marks the start of day
for a few,

When the birds arrive,
And the sun depart-
To make a living,
They depart into night.

Night is not just night,
She says,
It’s the time when memories,
Sneak a peak-
Appearing as droplets down
Our cheeks,
With the knowledge, that darkness
Would shield their view.

Night is not just night,
She says,
It’s the time some pray,
The time some waste,
The time some rest,
Or the mind comes awake,
But night is not “just” Night.

In the present-

In the present-

image

I stood,
watching the sky beyond me,
fade to a brilliant violet hue.
Fade to a golden crimson colour,
In solitary fineness, I stood.

The birds-
I bet were wondering why,
I could tell from their hovering stance
Above, their noise but a minuscule
Compared to the view- I stood.

The beauty-
Early morn possesses,
At the start of summer every year,
Makes Autumn memory disappear,
Oh Lord, what blessing.

But Night,
Shall come and blanket,
The birds shall part for their nest,
Summer will eventually disappear,
So I stand… In the present.

The credit for the beautiful sunrise image above is courtesy of this blog these days of mine.com

Flash Fiction: Dodged a bullet

Flash Fiction: Dodged a bullet

image

She sat at the edge of the cliff with her legs, dangling 650 ft above ground. The scorching sun, masking the fact that Autumn was here, at least it should have been; just like many aspects of her life.

Jamila had the greatest shock when she found out, the man she was getting married to, someone she trusted with her loved ones, her son, was in fact a con, arriving Algeria only because of its no extradition law.

She took a deep breath in an effort to absorb the nature around her, anything to distract her mind. Droplets of water settled on her forehead and she gazed towards the sky.
But it’s supposed to be Autumn, she sighed.

The showers turned into a lot more and within a few minutes, Jamila couldn’t distinguish between the water from the sky and those from her eyes.
I needed that, she smiled, soaking in the rain and for the first time since the incident, grateful to God for having dodged a bullet.


word count: 168. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. Each week, we are provided a picture to write a 75-175 word story. Thank you Grant-Sud for providing us with this week’s photo. 

Writer’s Quote: Charles Lamb

Writer’s Quote: Charles Lamb

image

The above quote is part of a poem I came across recently, thoughtless cruelty by Charles Lamb. The poem talks about a man who queries a boy called Robert, for killing a fly which had in no way harmed him. The man goes on to explain to Robert that a fly already has a short life, which is made even shorter by nature’s forces like wind and birds; and there goes Robert, further shortening it.

He explains that though a fly may be small in size, it doesn’t in anyway belittle it’s pain. The nerves are still there, the fibres are still there although the we can’t see them.

Below, is the full poem which I got from Poetry Foundation. I hope you enjoy it as much I do.

There, Robert, you have kill’d that fly,
And should you thousand ages try
The life you’ve taken to supply,
You could not do it.

You surely must have been devoid
Of thought and sense, to have destroy’d
A thing which no way you annoy’d —
You’ll one day rue it.

Twas but a fly perhaps you’ll say,
That’s born in April, dies in May;
That does but just learn to display
His wings one minute,

And in the next is vanish’d quite.
A bird devours it in his flight —
Or come a cold blast in the night,
There’s no breath in it.

The bird but seeks his proper food —
And Providence, whose power endu’d
That fly with life, when it thinks good,
May justly take it.

But you have no excuses for’t —
A life by Nature made so short,
Less reason is that you for sport
Should shorter make it.

A fly a little thing you rate —
But, Robert do not estimate
A creature’s pain by small or great;
The greatest being

Can have but fibres, nerves, and flesh,
And these the smallest ones possess,
Although their frame and structure less
Escape our seeing.


This post is in response to The Writer’s Quote Wednesday Challenge hosted by Jacqueline and Bernadette 

DAY 30: Overwhelmed

DAY 30: Overwhelmed

image.jpeg

This universe,
With everything in it-
The gallant stars, the milky way,
Earth and it’s seven revolving sister planets,
The mountains- standing firm and strong,
The dancing waves of the deep blue oceans,
All of it, magnificent creations.

And there- she is,
A bare creation of 5″6,
Wondering where she fits amidst,
Overwhelming beauty,
Overwhelming presence,
Overwhelming people at every single corner.
And she thinks, maybe
It isn’t for me-
I could leave,
and no one would notice i’m gone.

But girl…
This earth was made for you,
To wonder and ponder and dwell In it,
To climb up those mountains,
Feel the air upon your skin,
Watch the stars light up darkness
Swim amongst the sea entities;
If you find this world overwhelming,
It may be thinking the same of you,
Don’t get stuck on what is theirs,
While your beauty eludes your view.


Day 30: Stars. In response to December Poetry Challenge (31 poems in 31 days). The beautiful picture above is courtesy of Canon WR.

Flash Fiction: The Impromptu Vacation

Flash Fiction: The Impromptu Vacation

image.jpeg

When Adam suggested they take an impromptu vacation, Zendaya was not expecting rugged sloppy hills and mosquito filled atmosphere as part of the package.

“But honey”, Adam said for about the dozenth time since they’d arrived Pierrah Hills, “we get to watch the sunrise from the comfort of our bed”.

“You mean the mat-covered, stone-laden ground we would sleep on?” Zendaya retorted.
Adam sighed, this was going to be a long week.

They drifted asleep that night to the sound of flies buzzing above their heads mixed with the soft whooshing sound of tree leaves enhanced by the silence of the night.
Adam was the first to awaken the next morning, gawking at the majestic beauty of the sun as it emerged beyond the distant hills. A grumbling sound from behind interruped him.
He turned, “Morning Hun, how was your night?”

Zendaya stared as if he’d just confessed to murder.
“How was my night he asks, well there was nothing good about it if you’d like to know”.
Adam sighed, five more days to go.


word count: 175. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge hosted by Priceless Joy. Each week we are given a picture to write a 75-175 word story on. Thank you very much @Joy Pixely for this week’s picture.

Day 7: Breaking Free

Day 7: Breaking Free

image

He moved halfway across the world,
To ease a dullness in his chest;
A yearning, in every cell of his bone,
Staying home, could not suppress.

The moment, he grew up into the ranks
of men, he packed and left.
Leaving folks back home, going grey wondering,
What insanity provoked such an act.

But some souls are born to wander
The wilderness, and the far out sea;
Soak in rays at the top of a mountain,
Live amidst-nature’s beasts.

Gain knowledge only experience can offer,
Fill their lungs with nature’s breeze;
For the only way, for them to figure out,
Who they are- is by breaking free.


prompt: Inspired by (DecemberPoetryChallenge). Today’s poem is inspired by a quote of Chinua Achebe– “Nobody can teach me who I am. You can describe parts of me, but who I am, what I need, is something I have to find out for myself”.

the above image is courtesy of Tylerised.wordpress.com

All that I’m not-

All that I’m not-

image

I know-
I am not radiant like the sun,
Nor startling like lighting,
eye catching like a rainbow,
Loud and proud like the thunder.

I’m just a girl
Who’s taken too long to realise,
everything she needs,
she’s had within her,
Right from the start,
To surf through life’s storms,
And emerge at the finish line,
A victor? Maybe not.
But it’s the journey Which matters-
right?

I know all I am not,
And pointing just those facts to me,
Simply proves,
You are one of them,
whom-
I do not want.