Flash Fiction: Evil Genius

Flash Fiction: Evil Genius

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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.

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Flash Fiction: Undercover Op

Flash Fiction: Undercover Op

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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: The Social contract

Flash Fiction: The Social contract

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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: Missing

Flash Fiction: Missing

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D.I Lucy strode into the cordoned off section of the beach, lifting the yellow tape to get across. The urgent call had come right as she was about to brew her morning coffee. She didn’t get to make it and was positively irritated, made all the more worse by the huge smile spread across her partner D.S Fenworthy’s face. Who smiles at a crime scene?

Fenworthy had arrived the beach ahead of Lucy and waved her to the site, where two boats rested. He handed her a plastic cup with black coffee. She was grateful, but irked by his morning joy, decided not to show it.

So, what do we have?” She asked, surveying the scene and making sure not to trample on anything.

Two boats“, he began, “all geared up for journey but with no sign of travel. The renters have been missing, no one saw anything”.

D.I Lucy looked bored, “and they dumped the case on our homicide unit, why?”

“The boss specifically requested us”. He paused, “One of them is his daughter”.


word count: 175 words. This post in response to a Flash Fiction for Aspiring writers photo prompt challenge, where each week we are provided with a picture to write a 75-175 word story surrounding it. Thank you very much for this week’s picture @tj Paris.

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

Flash Fiction: Talker-much

Flash Fiction: Talker-much

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We sat by the shore, listening to the sound of waves intermingled with the occasionally far-out voices of travellers, traversing the water in their boats and canoes. It was a peaceful 20 minutes, while it lasted.

“Did you know“, Alexa piped up and I was too mannered to tell her I just wanted to enjoy the moment in silence. Darn good manners.

She went on to spend the next one hour enlightening me on who did what from amongst our friends, her friends and strangers I didn’t even know. It was all I could do to throw the occasional good word in there. They couldn’t all have been that bad.

Finally exhausted for words, she said, So, what’s been going on with you girl“.

Me,” I replied in a high pitched voice, “ohh just the usual. I’ve been fine. The Lord has been good to me!”
There was no way I was going to be the talk of her next conversation with Lord knows who.


word count: 164. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge, hosted by priceless Joy, where each week, we are provided a photograph and are to write a 75-175 word story in it. Thank you very much for this week’s photo @Louise of The storyteller’s abode. 

Flash Fiction: Match-Making miss

Flash Fiction: Match-Making miss

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Girl! You’ve got some serious screws lose.”
“He was such a fine specimen.”
“You know you’re making a mistake right.”
“She sure is! What were you thinking, saying no to him.”

Layla stared blankly, hoping her evident disinterest in their monologues would get them to stop talking; it wasn’t working.

Are you even listening to what we’re saying”,
“We’re trying to help you out here, you know”.

Layla gave a loud sigh, then turned to face them,
Why“, she said.
They stared at her, lack of understanding, evident on their faces.
“Did it occur to you, to ask me why I said no to him?”
Silence filled the room. She got up and smiled wearily,
That’s what I thought.”

Layla pointed through the window at the narrow steep pathway, guarded by green shrubs on all sides, which led to up to the hill.

That’s where I’ll be when you’re all done,” she added before heading out. Their murmurs of “you’re not getting any younger you know,” following her out the door. 


Word count: 171 words.  This story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writer’s photo prompt challenge, hosted by Priceless Joy, where each week we are provided a picture and are to write a 75-175 word story inspired by it.  Thank you very much for this week’s photo @JS Brand.