Just for an idea

How do you like the place?

It’s amazing…but…

I could die ten times…..but I would not leave….

When did you….?

Don’t remember…..perhaps three…four hundred years ago….burnt …at the stake

I never believed in ghosts…all my life.

It is a big shock!

I still can’t believe it.

Hardly matters, now.......

I was certain about everything….almost dead sure. I argued …with everyone…vehemently.

I can imagine. We all were…dead sure. And we suffered…. suffer.

When will it end?

You mean…will it end?

Yes.

Don’t know.

Wish I could have been less sure! It was not worth it.

Yes, it was foolish….getting burnt…. just for an idea.

*****

Word count 103

Post for Friday Fictioneers on a picture prompt.

The Pirate Ship

Is that a ship up there, grandpa?

My…my, I didn’t notice it. Of course it is a ship.

What’s it doing up there?

Well, I don’t know. Let’s go and check.

But if it were a pirate ship they might attack us. You once told me that story when you were on that famous ship with Columbus and the pirates…...

Hush; don’t even utter a word about that. It still frightens me to death. 

But why did they cut you up in hundred….

Stop, grandpa shrieked.

But was that story true.

As true as the plants growing on our graves…...

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Word count 100

A post for Friday Fictioneers.

The Bat

“Sir, is this house haunted?” the little boy asked.

The mischievous woodcutter thought that there was something funny about the little boy. “Why do you ask?”

“My friends keep threatening that one day they will lock me in here and the ghost will turn me into a little bat.”

“But it would be a great fun, being a bat, hanging upside down.” And the woodcutter pretended being a bat, hanging upside down, making a fearful face.

But next moment he was shrieking in terror.

The little boy was hanging besides him, upside down like a bat.

And he was not pretending.

********

Word count 102

A post for Friday Fictioneers on a photo prompt.

A Piece of Heart

Photo© Kelvin M Knight

‘It’s a piece of heart….’

‘You mean art……don’t you?’

He pinched his nose and gave her a bemused look.

‘No, I was wrong; it’s a map of South Africa…..yes, it’s a map.’ She didn’t respond. She was getting late for the office and her mother hadn’t turned up yet. She felt bad for the mother but she had no option; she often felt trapped.

‘It could be….an entrance of…. a cave……’

‘Please finish your breakfast; grandma is on her way. You have to lock the door and don’t open it till she comes.’

‘You were right; it’s a piece of art.’

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A post for Friday Fictioneers on a photo prompt.

Word count 101

Letter

‘Why can’t he ever call us? If he has no time to video chat he can at least make a phone call? But he would only write letters.’

He kept quiet. He knew all the answers but he did not have the courage to tell her. She was bedridden for almost three years; he could not compound her suffering.

‘It’s almost one year now that he had written a letter; no? Why don’t you go to the post office; some letter may be lying there undelivered. You know how lazy these people are.’

Somewhere out there a ship blew its horn.

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A post for Friday Fictioneers on a photo prompt.

Word count 101

The Inheritance

‘That’s the house where your father was born,’ said the old man in a melancholy tone.

‘But I have never been there?’

‘Yes. Actually…..’ the old man was unable to continue.

‘It was your house?’

‘Yes….no, it was my father’s house.’

‘That would be Papa’s grandfather?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why don’t we live there? I could have a room for myself.’

‘After my mother passed away, my father decided to marry again. The lady he married was a decent person but her elder brother……..’ the old man looked at the innocent boy and felt a bit ashamed.

‘It’s rather complicated…..’

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a post for Friday Fictioneers on a picture prompt.

Word count 98

  

Tyranny of the Watch

‘Wake up’, said the watch.

‘I didn’t get even a wink of sleep. Let me….’ said he.

‘That doesn’t matter. You have to go for the yoga session and then…..’The watch was, as always, extremely polite.

‘I hate you.’ Indignantly, he pushed the watch away.

‘It means nothing to me.’ The watch would never take offence to his outbursts that had become quite frequent in recent times, ‘You have already lost twenty minutes.’

The watch was inexorably relentless.

Something in him snapped. He smashed the watch on the wall. He pretended that he had smashed the tyranny of the watch.   

The clock on the wall chimed disdainfully.

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A post for Friday Fictioneers on a photo prompt.