Foreigners: A 100 Word Story

copyright – Indira by way of Scott Vanatter

“Riding on a truck is so much fun.”

“It is amazing.”

The truck driver smiled at the two foreigners who had hitchhiked their way on his truck to the next town.

“Where you go in town?” he asked in broken English.

“Just drop us by the main city hall,” echoed the girl speaking out every word in gaps as if talking to a kid. The boy just nodded along with a wide eyed-expression.

“Okay ji.”

It was twilight and the only light source was from the beam of the truck’s headlights. Nobody uttered a single word. The truck raced on.

*My second piece for Friday Fictioneers Writing Prompt.

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Accident: A 100 Word Story

copyright – Indira by way of Scott Vanatter

“The truck driver had fallen asleep on his way to Kanpur,” he was reading from the newspaper for the benefit of his wife, who was serving him tea.

“An accident then, huh?” she said carelessly.

“Yup, it claimed 5 lives, that of the truck driver and four others of the same family riding in the car, the truck smashed.”

“That is sad.”

She was looking beautiful in her magenta sari with that brilliant red mark on forehead, which declared that she was his.

He lovingly pulled her onto his lap on the newspaper with the photograph of the harrowing accident scene.

*Written in response of the Friday Fictioneers Writing Prompt.

Haunted

The rusty door creaked open.

“The house seems to be abandoned since forever.”

“It is spooky.”

“I like spooky things,” he held her hands grinning like a fool, which she adored and entered their abode for the summers.

“There will be so much work to do.”

“I have called for the workers. They will come tomorrow and make the place livable for us.”

They had reached the center of the lobby and took a look around at the ancient tapestry and crimson walls in the mid-afternoon light; the floor was bare but for a carpet bathed in dust and a grandfather-chair in a corner.

“This house is not haunted, is it?” she meekly asked.

“Oh yes it is.”

She gasped at the mad look in his eyes and that cruel smile, she had never seen before. She trembled from within as some red fluid appeared on his lips and he snarled.

She ran for the old rusty door but it was somehow locked. She hastily looked back but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh god… oh god…”

A loud banging sound resounded from somewhere. Tears appeared in her eyes, “Please save me… oh please!”
“What has happened to him?”

She crouched down still at that very position and felt a dull ache at her chest.

Some one was coming for her; she could hear the footsteps, soft but not silent on the carpet. They sounded distant. She was in a dream world; sweaty, her entire body numb but for the sharp pain at her chest and her ribs.

“Are you okay, darling?”
“I was just joking with some help from…”

She felt a soft touch on her face and she looked up at him, into his eyes, now completely normal, gazing at her with fear or was it love, she did not know. She closed her own eyes shut, never to open them ever again.

 *Written for the Trifecta Challenge.

Baby Piano: A 100 Word Story

“I can’t forget how we grew up together and then got separated. And today, it is a coincidence that we could meet.”

“It is indeed.” He gave her a brilliant smile.

“You still smile the same,” she shyly commented.

“And you are still the same.”

They shared a quick kiss which was delayed for years.

“And you remember when you visited me at 1 in the night and tried to hide inside my baby piano when my parents came up hearing your loud voice?”

“Yes. And I remember why I visited you.”

They held hands, past memories flooding their minds.

Copyright- John Nixon

* Written in response of the Friday Fictioneers Writing Prompt.

Samidare (Midsummer Rain) Haiku

tip-tip-toe-tip-tip

music of rain on pavement

lost in memories

~

out of oblivion

clouds shade the sky in its cloak

the first drops fell down

 ~

a midsummer rain

relieving yearning pupils

a solace from heat

~

elevated Sun

drizzling clouds in the sunshine

look for the rainbow

 ~

the midsummer’s day

longest in glory and rays

washed down by the rain

~

looking through window

a play of the rain droplets

meditating life

* Written in response of Carpe Diem # 219

“Baby…”

Under the star light, he silently moved towards her.

She was sitting on the pier, gazing at the ripples of water, appearing on the sea surface. They were on a vacation and he was in a weird mood all the time.

“Baby”

She heard his voice and looked back. He had a sharp knife, clenched in his left hand with a mad look in his eyes. She was speechless, her mouth gasped open. Coming back to her senses, she shrieked.

“Listen, baby”

She wailed a long cry for help.

Lights switched on and people came pouring out, some spreading torchlight to brighten the night in front of them.

“What?”
“What happened?”
“Who was that?”
“Did you hear…?”
“Mom, I am afraid.”
“Hey, do you know?”

Rushing towards the location, they saw the entire scene; a mad man with a knife going to kill a young woman.

“Hey…,” a brave man moved ahead, talking to the man with the knife, “Throw that away. You can’t do anything to her now.”

“But…”

“Throw it away.”

He threw it away.

“And what is in you right hand. What are you hiding?”

He brought his hand forward to show a chocolate cake, resting on his palm.

A wave of shock fell across the peering crowd and the muttering started again.

“It is for my wife. It is her birthday; so I brought across a cake for her to cut down under the celestial light. It was a surprise,” he meekly said and started to cry.

.

* Written in response of the Trifecta Challenge: Light

Mad/Nonsense: A haiku, a small tale and a limerick

laughing just like that

sitting alone in the room

the screws of mind lost

Okay, I am going to share the tale of a mad woman with all of you today. Well, she isn’t mad by psychological sense, but she actually acts mad at certain stances, like when she laughs so hard that she can’t even speak. And even more so, she would fall down chortling; sometimes swinging back and forth; at other times, completely at hysterics with laughter.

Or take another instance, she went to take a shower during the winters but the water wasn’t warm;  so she decided to make use of the cold water instead after all. I was sitting in the room, when I heard a long-pitched wail from the bathroom and I jumped up, fervently asking what happened. And you know what, it was just her expression of feeling cold. Yes, that moaning animal cry was just an expression.

There was once a queen named Rose

always wearing a red dress, gross!

out her judgement she had read

blurted out, “Off with your head”

through her mucous flowing nose.

* I am not good at writing humorous/nonsensical stuff but I tried my best. This is in response to the Nonsense/Madness Prompt. Among shared are a haiku, a limerick and a little tale of my experiences with a slightly mad woman.