The lad Ryan

This week’s photo prompt is provided by BarbCT/Gallimaufry. Thank you BarbCT!

Ryan brought the barge to a slow drift as the ferry neared, carefully keeping out of its way; he lifted his hat and bowed his head in deference. The captain of the ferry nodded as he sped past, an arrogant smile adorning his proud face.

Later that night, the captain walked up to Ryan, who was soothing his soul with some cold beers in the local bar.

“Ryan my lad… A fine day. Wasn’t it?”

Met with silence, he continued. “Well, for some, it certainly was.”

“Oh shut it, Peter!” Ryan roared. “So I lost. And had to make an absolute ass of myself acting like you were my lord and master in front of all those tourists… Man, there were pretty girls around.”

Ryan glowed, his face a pulsing beacon of red.

“Oh yes, there were a few,” said Peter obviously enjoying Ryan’s misery as much as the beer he was drinking.

“I say! If you are so great, can you do this?” replied Peter hotly.

 

Some lads just don’t seem to learn.


Flash fiction in response to FFfAW hosted by Priceless Joy. Thank you, PJ!

 

 

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Love all

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As she walked through the streets to the city center, countless more people joined her, silently. Many were holding candles, including her father, whose hand she was holding.

On reaching, she climbed the stage and raised her hand-drawn placard proclaiming “Love”. The gathering clapped.

She spoke. “Today I am ten years old. It was also on this day a year back that I became a cripple. As a lone survivor, many say I am a miracle… I am not sure of that. What I am sure of though, is that if I am walking here today, it is because of the love that you have all shown me; your letters and cards. Thank you so much…. On my last birthday, I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grow up. Today though, I know. I want to grow up to be a policewoman; be able to protect people from dying and losing their limbs in terror attacks. I want to protect all, who like you, are wonderful, loving people.”


Flash fiction in response to FFfAW hosted by Priceless Joy.

I see you

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Photo prompt by shivamt25

“It is unlike him to be so late. Perhaps something came up at work… I don’t want to look all so desperate by calling him repeatedly. He’ll come. No point getting angry; spoiling my mood and the day.

Just need something to kill time.”

Namitha fished her sunglasses from her purse and perched it carefully on the coffee cup.

“Pffft. Balancing that took all of 40 seconds… Am bored…”

Looking around the coffee shop for some relief, she was greeted by Amit’s smiling face, camera dangling from his neck.

“Hey beautiful!”

“You are late. I should be angry.”

“But you aren’t” he smirked. “Besides, I am not late.”

“Excuse me! It’s 7:15. You were supposed to be here an hour earlier.”

“And I was! Here, look.”

He showed her the pictures on his camera – pictures of her sipping coffee absentmindedly, flipping her phone, staring into the window serenely, and much more.

“Oh my! I never knew I could look like this.

“I wanted to show you how I see you… Happy anniversary dear.”


Flash fiction in response to FFfAW hosted by Priceless Joy.


I am usually terrible at attempts at romance. This is one of the few. Please pardon my transgression!

Legacy

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Photo courtesy: shivamt25

Being a newcomer in an unknown household is never easy. Of course, I had been scared of my father-in-law before my wedding. I never knew what kind of a man he would be. I had decided to stay quiet and be obedient. Being scared and wise was better than being bold and stupid.

Soon, I realized that all my fears had been entirely misplaced. A widower, he was a gentle soul who mostly kept to himself. After finishing his daily chores, he would retire into his tiny room to read and emerge only to tend to his beloved plants. He nurtured them with the utmost tenderness – watering them, loosening their earth and applying manure. They seemed to share a unique bond, each responding to the other’s love.

His colorful garden, his cherished legacy, is still blooming though he is no more now… I can truly say that my father-in-law has been the silent rock in my life, always standing by me, keeping me rooted and peaceful. I miss him.

Word Count: 169


Flas fiction in response to FFfAW hosted by Priceless Joy.

A new day

Nathan woke up squinting; the gentle morning light blinding the eyes that had slept for too long. He sensed her immediately. Instinctively he closed his eyes, turned in her direction and slowly opened them. He saw her, radiant and smiling. Her tears wet his forehead as she kissed him.

“How do you feel honey?”

“I feel… I don’t know. Drugged. And Thirsty.”

“They say it will wear away in a few hours’ time. Here, have some water.”

Nathan drank out of her hands and lay back down in exhaustion.

 

“I am scared, Emily. What if it hasn’t worked? They did say it was experimental.”

“Then nothing changes, does it? We would have lost some money but then… Come on Nathan. You only need to try.”

photo-20170904154630548Nathan looked down on his hand that had been his lifeless companion all life. He willed it to move. And suddenly – it did; making shadows he never knew he was capable of. Smiling, he looked out the window at the rising sun. A glorious day had just begun.

Word count: 173

Photo courtesy:  artycaptures.wordpress.com


Flash fiction in response to FFfAW hosted by Priceless Joy.

 

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.

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.

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.

Always trust the captain

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Photo credit: Dorothy

The feeling of liberation I get every time I cycle is priceless! It helps me tune out of the noise in my head and tune into the melody of nature. I love the mystery of the day’s performance. Would I be enthralled by the wheels crunching gravel or its steady hum over tarmac? Would I be greeted with a chilling breeze or a gentle warmth?

Over the past year though, I have come to realize that this joy of weightlessness is not because of these enchantments. The real reason is that I have learned to give up my need to control and blindly put my trust in another. I cannot tell you what an exhilarating feeling it is to feel completely protected by the caption! As a stoker, all I need to do is pedal, obey, relax, listen and feel.

Every time I cycle now, I am ever grateful for having found the Tandem Club.

Word Count: 154


Flash fiction in response to FFfAW hosted by Priceless Joy.


Captain: The front rider who pedals and steers. Stoker: Rear rider.

Some tidbits on tandem cycling.

The storm

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Angry, he dashed out of the room of the beach side resort leaving her to console herself. He put on the life vest unthinkingly, out of habit and picked up his kayak, ignoring the other red one next to his. He paddled into the troubled ocean, a murky gray reflection of gathering gloom. “Get out as fast as you can when you see a storm, especially lightning” he recalled his instructor say so many years back. “Lightning strikes the tallest object it can find and that could well be you”.

He laughed derisively at the memory. “Oh yeah? Bring it on! Let us see who beats whom.” he said defiantly as he went deeper into the ocean that was as turbulent as he was. She sat waiting, alone in the dark room.

Photo courtesy: TJ Paris

Word Count: 132


Flash Fiction in response to FFfAW hosted by Priceless Joy.

Being stuck

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Photo credit: Louise with The Storyteller’s Abode

“She had no right to be rude to me. Especially when she knows the kind of stress that I am under!!” he fumed as he paced his yacht. Roy’s frustration had grown to unbearable proportions. He felt stifled and stuck in his present job. He wasn’t getting any new ones either being “too senior”. He felt caged and the tension was spilling over at home.

Being lost in his thoughts, he realized he was stuck, quite literally, only after a while; the low tide had left his yacht marooned. “What? This is exactly what I need now!!” he yelled. His anger though, could not be sustained. Forced inactivity has a calming effect on the mind and he was no exception. Nature took over his senses forcing him to observe and admire the jagged rocks, the iridescent green of the moss, the gray of the night edging out the blues. As the tide reversed and the yacht was ready for sailing, Roy was at peace. Sometimes, it is better to just be stuck.

Word count: 172


Flash Fiction in response to FFfAW hosted by Priceless Joy.