Saturday, 24 November 2018

The Cascade

M could not have imagined that a silly decision of jumping the red light would devastate his life.
If he had just waited for ninety seconds for the light to turn green, he would not have witnessed the killing near The Cascade. M had seen the face of the killer; the killer too had seen him. Instinctively, M felt threatened.
It took some courage to go to the police; he had never been to a police station.   
He heard a screeching laugh. It was the killer; he was laughing and hugging a policeman.
M turned and ran to his car.  Heavy footsteps followed him.
Word count 104
A post for Friday Fictioneers on a picture prompt.

Sunday, 18 November 2018

The Arrogant

“This is the place…no one will know….let’s dig here and bury it.” said Taby.
Beny didn’t answer … he was busy with his boat.
“Come here…..we don’t have all the time…”
“You are a fool…why did you pelt a rock…killing the ….”
“Not another word,” shrieked Taby; he was already regretting his folly.
Beny smiled; the boat was finally afloat.
Taby furiously dug a small pit and, with trembling hand, buried the dead.
“I wish I had missed the mark.”
“You are arrogant…..always pelting rocks at little birds. This time I will tell mama……”
Next moment Beny was in the water…… screeching like hell.
Word count 106
A post for Friday Fictioneers on a picture prompt.

Friday, 9 November 2018

The Artwork

Grandpa, do trees feel pain?
Well, I ain’t sure…..
But I read somewhere…. heard someone say…yes, I am sure I heard someone say that plants grow faster if you play music near them.
Then they must feel something…..if they can hear….feel music.
Don’t you think this tree would have suffered? 
But it’s a dead tree.
How do we know? The roots are still inside the earth. The roots can still……
Don’t think weird thoughts. Just enjoy the beauty of the artwork. This the hundredth artwork that he has created…. marvelous, isn’t it?
The grandpa was left speechless.
Word count 100
A post for Friday Fictioneers on a picture prompt.   

Friday, 2 November 2018

He was not a king; just a patriarch of a large family. But everyone called him a king. He liked it.
He moved a pawn and murmured, “Never treat anyone like a pawn. Treat them like knights, bishops…..”
“Why?” the son had always felt that the king treated him like a pawn.
The king looked at a pawn that was about to turn into a queen and brooded for a long time. He was mortally scared of losing. He raised an eyebrow, almost imperceptibly. A man hidden in the shadows nodded, silently.
“You never know when a pawn would become a threat……”
Word count 103
A post for Friday Fictioneers.