Thursday, 26 February 2015

Call of the home

                                                                                    Photo prompt-© Dawn Q Landau

He had walked for seven days and yet had not reached his home.

He had used all his cunning to escape from the gang who had stolen him. He was not the only dog in captivity. But he was the only one who wanted to escape.

His first attempt failed. They clubbed him till he became unconscious. But that did not deter him. He fought back; he chose to rely on cunning and not strength.

He was losing hope; then he saw her. He just wanted to run and touch her.

He kept trudging; he was too tired to run.
(Inspired by ‘The call of the wild’ that I have re-read after many years)                            

A post for Friday Fictioneers on a picture prompt

My other posts for Friday Fictioneers

अपनी ही सुनते
शब्द हैं कुछ ठहरे ठहरे,
कान भी तो हैं
पर बहरे बहरे,
हाथ हैं कुछ ठिठुरे ठिठुरे,
दिल भी तो हैं
पर सिकुड़े सिकुड़े,
जो हम कहते
वही हम सुनते,
अपना ही बस
हम ताना बुनते,
तुम हो
या फिर ना भी हो,
इसका कोई सार नहीं,
व्यथा तुम्हारी
नीरस गीत
जिसमें कोई राग नहीं,  
आंसू तुम्हारे
बस पानी खारा,
निष्फल बहने देते
हम यह धारा,
अपने हृदय की व्यथा
हम सुनते,
अपनी पलकों के
मोती हम चुनते,
हम बस
अपनी ही कहते,
हम बस
अपनी ही सुनते.

©आई बी अरोड़ा 

Sunday, 22 February 2015

  Photo prompt-copyright-Marie Gail Stratford

“Are you sure that this invitation is for the inhabitants of this planet? I can’t imagine why anyone would like to invite them.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

“You ought to ask, what is right with them?”

Every machine was sounding a warning signal.

“Everything seems polluted, even the minds and hearts. It’s not a place for a decent being. This invitation is a big mistake. We can’t let these people spoil our celebrations. Let’s go back. We can’t invite these people.”

“Rather we could suggest sending our renegades to this sick planet; it would be like sending them to hell.”
A post for Friday Fictioneers- picture prompt
and Two Shoes Tuesday-word prompts- invitation and imagine

Word count 100

Sunday, 1 February 2015

It was a dark and cold evening. He left his den. Outside air was opaque. He shuddered and took a step back.
He had been like on the prowl for several days. He had been following his prey with an uncanny skill. He could have pounced on her whenever he wanted. But he had deliberately delayed the final act. The intentional delay and suspense was an aphrodisiac and, like a depraved animal, he relished it more than anything else. He had relished it on every hunt.
Today was to be the day when the hunt would end. He wouldn’t wait any further; he couldn’t wait any further. But the fog deterred him. He laughed at his uneasiness.
He was waiting on one side of the road. She was about to leave the dancing school. Fog thinned momentarily. He could see her coming out of the door on the other side, as always with two other girls.
He knew the place where he would cross the road; he knew when and where he would pounce on her.
But perhaps he did not anticipate the destiny; he could not escape the all-powerful destiny.
By the time he reached the place where he was to cross the road the fog had thickened. He could not see the car which was hurtling down the road.

The car did not stop. The girl behind the wheel could hear his pain; there were tears in her eyes and a smile on her wan lips.