ReRuin

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PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bulltot

If you like history, this is heritage. If you don’t, this is romance. If you don’t care for either, this is a resort.

ReRuin. Rewriting history.

“This is the perfect ad! Thank you Elber!”

“Glad to be of service. So, when do you open?”

“Next week.”

“Great! You know, I do appreciate what you are doing here. Saving this place from crumbling.”

“Thanks…. It needs to be done, by someone.”

“I agree… I believe that understanding history is so important for understanding the present. That’s why you are getting this ad free.”

“What really?! Thank you so much!”

Word Count: 99


Just as a note. The “i” in ReRuin needs to be stricken out. This editor isn’t allowing me to do that. So, perhaps your imagination could :).


Flash Fiction in response to Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff.

 

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The masterpiece

“Come on Lily! Let’s get out of this dump. It’s been forever since you spent any time with me.”

“Not today Jane. Please.”

“You tell this EVERY time. I am not taking no for an answer. Not this time. COME ON!!!”

On their way to the restaurant in Columbus Circle, Jane pointed out to the latest art installation, supposedly a masterpiece.

 

“Weird isn’t it? Do you get it?”

Lily gasped looking at it. She recovered quickly though. “Yeah. It IS weird…. Jane. Why don’t you go on ahead and get a table? I will meet you in 5 mins?”

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Lily stared fixedly at the masterpiece – the two arrows sticking out of the blood stained body of a circular human. How could it be? He had turned her sketch into this? His masterpiece stolen from her sketch? No wonder he had broken up with her. And to think she had wasted time moping after him for so long…. Not anymore she decided. She would take back what was hers – her life, her identity.


Flash fiction in response to FFfAW hosted by Priceless Joy.

The empty canvas

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He wondered. Art begins with an empty canvas. But can an empty canvas itself be art? When people can see cats and dogs in clouds; the rainbow in oil; what would they see in an empty canvas?

Some saw his audacity, some his foolishness. Some though seemed to find meaning.

Word count: 50


Microfiction in response to Weekend Writing Prompt hosted by Sammi Cox.

Prose Challenge – Write a 50 word story inspired by the image above.  What is it? A blank screen edged in static? A chalkboard with no writing on it?  The strange view out of a window, perhaps from a spaceship?  You tell us.

Bonus point for including any of the following words: emptiness, void, or abyss.

Place to dream

“I need a place to dream,” Polly said looking out at the high rises around her.

“Well, the bed is right there,” Mother said irritating her further. She returned to her book, drowning in it, escaping her boxed reality.

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PHOTO PROMPT© Jan Wayne Fields

The beauty of the place took her stale breath away, infusing her with fresh life. The “shorter route” had led them to paradise.

“Mom! This… I don’t know what to…”

“I know dear. Go dream” Mother said leading her forward through the string of starry fairy lights. For that night, they let the nothingness beyond the tent weave theirs dreams.

Word count: 99


Flash fiction in response to Friday Fictoneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff.


Thank you, Rochelle and Jan for this stunning pic. It really is a place of dreams and starry nights.

Village festival

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Some memories never fade. For Savitha, such memories are stacked from those of the annual festival in her village. The colors of the decorations of the temple, her village, and its people; the din of the loudspeakers – spouting a devotional song here and a film song there; the tales from Mahabharata and Ramayana and of course, the fair. It was a day of luxury when she could enjoy giant wheel rides, get a photo of herself, stuff herself with cotton candy and an assortment of sweets till she could have no more. On the day of the main festival, she would hold her mother’s saree as they sat in a line in front of the temple – each in front of the wood fire, cooking up Sakkarai Pongal as offering to the God. Somehow, that Pongal would be the tastiest she would eat that year.

It might have been three years since she even visited her village, ensnared in the daily routine of a mundane, city life. Some memories, however, sustain her.

Word count: 172


Sakkarai Pongal: Sweet made from rice, lentils, jaggery, and milk. Believe me, it is so yummy (my mouth is watering as I am writing this!).

Image result for sakkarai pongal brahmin recipe

Such village festivals are held throughout Tamil Nadu in villages and towns. Extremely colorful, noisy and full of life. It is entirely impossible to capture the essence of these in 175 words….  Some images here.

Pongal Festival


Flash fiction in response to FFfAW hosted by Priceless Joy.

Convincing Suma

“You really should seek help you know.” I begin, being the responsible elder sister and all.

“Yeah… I know.” she drags, looking into her uneaten dinner plate, into a plate of pain.

“Suma. This is no joke ok? Look at you! Look at how much weight you have lost this last month. You don’t eat. You don’t even get a night’s worth of restful sleep. How long can you sustain like this?”

More staring at the plate with more melancholy writ on the face. Time to step up the game.

“Sigh… Look dear. You know I mean well… I have been through this myself. Trying to ignore it will not make the pain go away.”

“I KNOW Akka. But YOU don’t know what I am going through. What is it for you? You are brave. You could do it. I am not, ok? I can’t. I just can’t!”

Say something. Quick!

“It’s not like that at all! Courage is not something you are born with. It is what you acquire over time. Every time you face your fears you get more courageous.” Wow! Where did those words of wisdom come from? And at such an opportune moment. Certainly, this should change her mind?

“Pfft.”

Ok. Obviously, wisdom didn’t work. Try compassion?

“Suma, I understand you are scared… Will you feel better if I come with you? I can take time off from college you know. It’s ok by me.”

Some melting evident. Hey! Good job! But don’t look too happy just yet.

“Come on! I can only do so much. YOU have to do the rest. Believe me, it is not as bad as you think it is. Just imagine… You will be out of this misery you seem to have gotten yourself into and enjoy life as before. You will be yourself again. ”

Oh, some change! Ok. Look serious. Look like you mean it. Don’t lose it now!

“Ok, Akka… I guess I do have to do something about it…. Tomorrow is ok?”

“Perfect.”

She clutches my hand as sweat peeps out on her forehead. “I am so, SO scared,” she whispers, fear overpowering her.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be ok” I reassure her as I guide her into the dentist’s clinic.



The message

Why is it? Now that I am a few moments from death, the only thing I can see is the color. Perhaps, it is only fitting – for it has dominated me for decades. I remember how it first crept into my wardrobe in college and then slowly colonized it by the time I was done. It represented my reason for existence, my path, my message… Well, there is nothing else to do now but to keep repeating the message.

Dear Lord! Please accept this white flag of surrender. Thy will be done. You think of it.

Word Count: 97


Flash fiction in response to hosted by Weekend writing prompt Sammi Cox.

The challenge:  Pick a saying that has a color in it (green as envy, seeing red, blue murder, not black and white, etc) and write a story about it, using no more than 100 words.

A losing battle

Each drop gasps for breath,
Just as it touches the water.
Reaching out, seeking help,
Surviving for a moment more.
Drowning with the effort,
And plunging to the bottom,
Drop by drop the rain loses,
Its battle for identity.

Poet’s inspiration

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photo by Cathal Mac an Bheatha via Unsplash

“The wood, while burning itself, imparts just enough warmth to gently melt the cheese into a delicious pizza without charring; much like a person suffering from one-sided love,” observed Rohan over their dinner at the local pizzeria.
“I didn’t know a pizza could inspire poetry – especially from a dud like you,” retorted Revathi.
“Pizza might not, but your boring talk could!” chuckled Rahul while Revathi hit him in mock contempt.


Flash fiction in response to Three Line Tales hosted by Sonya.

 

The beacon

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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Sahil anxiously opened the door to his tiny apartment. Rita hadn’t answered his calls all day and now the apartment was completely dark. He immediately rushed to the bathroom – its light glowing like a beacon. Here, he found her note.

“All these years you let me wallow in penury. You never let me have even 100 bucks for myself. How could you have been so selfish you bastard! Don’t try to contact me and good luck finding your stash.”

Sahil collapsed on the floor. He thought he had gotten away with the heist… If only she had called him!

Word count: 100


Flash fiction in response to “Friday Fictioneers” hosted by the lovely Rochelle.

Cocoa joy!

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A connoisseur of books, she knew the perfect pairing. The book she was reading needed a piping hot cocoa. Gigi put the cup into the microwave and lazily pressed the 5 min button. She continued her reading by the microwave with an occasional glance in its direction. She would wait till the just right moment as she always did.

The doorbell broke the focus from her book. Ryan was at the door, flowers in hand, grin on his mouth, unabashed happiness in his heart. He kissed her passionately as soon as he entered.

“Gigi! You’ll not believe this!”

“What? Whaaatttt??”

“We are going to make it Gigi! We are going to finally make it. Our research has been accepted. We are going to be published, Gigi!! And guess what? We are getting $5000 as advance!”

Gigi jumped in elation “Oh wow!! Ryan, this is crazy! I am so happy!”

Ryan and Gigi hugged each other, their hearts overflowing with joy. The cocoa mimicked them in the microwave.

Photo courtesy artycaptures.

Word Count: 167


Flash fiction in response to FFfAW hosted by Priceless Joy.