Sunday, 31 January 2016


She was there, besides the sunflowers, looking at me quizzically. I was certain it was her. I did even see her reflection.
No, it was not a reflection, it was a shadow. Yes, it had to be a shadow.  I tried reaching out to her but, strangely, I stood rooted to the ground like a lifeless statue.
But, then, who was the girl that her parents had buried? It could not have been her.
She smiled and turned away.
A wind struck me in my face. The sunflowers trembled as if in agony.

I felt I would lose her, again.
‘I think we should leave now.’
I placed a flower on the grave and turned back.


A post for Magpie Tales and FFfAW on photo prompts.

Friday, 29 January 2016

The Returning

He dreaded the memories.
He had till now avoided coming back for silly and inconsequential reasons. The truth was that he was unwilling to face the memories that lay seamlessly embedded in that place.
Father had cautioned him but had not stopped him from leaving, ‘Go wherever you wish to go, but don’t forget your roots.’
But he chose to forget; if one had to be radical than it was not fashionable to talk of the roots.
He felt pathetic; rootlessness had only made the journey painful.
He looked at the desolate house and wished he had not come back.
Word count 100