Flash Fiction: Mama’s chronicles

Flash Fiction: Mama’s chronicles

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It was ingrained in me from a very young age, that until the moment when I will step into my husband’s house, I was bounded by my mother’s rules. But,
I had just turned ten, and fuelled with the burst of pre-teen rebellion, I dared to turn a deaf ear to her various warnings of “no one better touch my coal burner before I get back”.

I dared. I decided to use it in my room. I lit the match, threw it into the burner filled with about a dozen coals (I didn’t know how to use it) and almost set my room on fire. 
Mama returned back home as I was fervently trying to clean up my mess.

Safe to say, I learnt that day, though mama’s hands looked like wrinkled skin over flesh, they were in fact made of steel. I felt the steel that day.


Word count: 148 words. 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 @ENISA

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Flash Fiction: The ingenious idea

Flash Fiction: The ingenious idea

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We were tasked with writing a 2000 word essay on any topic of our choice relating to history, and I had the perfect topic- Dinosaurs: Myth or reality.

It was a no brainer really. There’s a newly opened dinosaur museum only a few blocks from my home, so I wouldn’t have to walk much or spend transport fare. Plus, rumor has it that the museum guide is a “talker”, and I figured he would be more than willing to offer up information for my paper. It was only a few days to the submission deadline, this had to work.

I slung my backpack and headed for the museum. I got to the main gate, cleared and casually strolled into the museum hall only to find a bunch of youngsters who looked like my classmates.

You lot are a bunch of lazies!” I yelled into the laughing group. Apparently I wasn’t the only one with the “lazy ingenious” idea after all.


word count: 157 words. 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 @Yinglan

Flash Fiction: The View

Flash Fiction: The View

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D.S Fenworthy found a spot to watch the magnificent display happening right in front of his eyes. He laid on his back, with his head resting atop his intertwined fingers; unbothered by the sand grains gaining entry into his clothe.

The display lasted only a few minutes, but those minutes were everything. The sun transformed into a ginormous golden beauty from a speck; and in the process, created an undertone of subtle colours, evoking a feeling words could not describe.
For some reason, D.S Fenworthy felt at peace.

He searched in his pocket for the piece of paper his partner D.I Lucy had left for him and read it again.
We all have those days…. Thank me later.”
That was all it said, and then this location and time was scribbled beneath.

He smiled and crumpled up the paper, thinking, despite what the other coppers said, D.I Lucy was one heck of a partner and boss.


word count: 158. The above story is in reaponse to Flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. Each week we are provided with a picture and are to write a 75-175 word story. Thank you for this week’s photo: @Footy and Foodie

 

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: Result Day

Flash Fiction: Result Day

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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 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: Trip down memory lane

Flash Fiction: Trip down memory lane

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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.

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