Tag Archives: flash fiction

Six Word Story – Hemingway Challenge.

The Hemingway Challenge, named after the poet Ernest Hemingway, is a celebration of his genius when it came to words. It asks for the writer to convey a story in six words and not more, not less.

The best six word story, I have come across till date, courtesy him, is “For sale : baby shoes, never worn”.

Here’s my first, and hopefully not last, shot at the challenge :

World’s moonlit night, moonless to him.

Graciously Yours!

P.S. : Julia from ‘Life Matters’ is also doing the #sixwordstory challenge. Here’s my favourite from her collection.

Picture Courtesy : Pinterest.

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A dream turning real.

On special request by Izza from the ‘A touch of my saint’, the previous post has been now re-written with a completely different end.

 

Glistening smile in her eyes,

She felt her beau cupping her face,

Caressing her hair and her cheek,

His finger lingering at her lips.


With the soft touch of his lips on hers,

Cheers erupted and flowers fell upon them,

The bride was kissed,

Before the priest could even say so.


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Graciously Yours!

P.S. Like that, Izza? 😉

Picture credits : Pinterest.

A dream too real?

Smiling in her sleep,

She dreamt her beau cupping her face,

Caressing her hair and her cheek,

His finger lingering at her lips.


She felt a hand up her neck,

She brushed away the tickling fingers,

Only to wake up, horrified.

She was sleeping alone.

Graciously Yours!

P.S. I hope you love the new look as much as I do! Feedback awaited.

Sacrifice.

In the One Word – Many Moments Flash Fiction series,

Previous Word : Rain.

Brother Sister

She was bawling! He tried asking her what happened. Their mother shushed him.

“This is for you, Mary. You only get to play with this,” the mother said to her crying child.

“What happened, Mom?”

“She wants the train your Daddy bought for you.”

“Oh! I’ll get it for her. Wait.”

“No. She’ll play with her doll. Or else she’ll break both toys by tomorrow!”

“But she’s crying!”

“Let her cry. I’ll get her milk. You go and play with your train. Your friend is waiting for you,” the mother walked away, patting the boy on the head.

Quietly, he went into his room, picked up the train much to his friend’s surprise, and went and gave it to his step-sister.

“There you go!” he said, placing a peck on the three year old’s cheek, who miraculously stopped crying immediately!

***

Police

“This time we’ll go to the fair together!” he told his son, placing him on his shoulder and walking around in the house looking for his wife.

“Maa! Maa! Papa’s back!” the child shouted excitedly.

“What happened?” asked the mother as she came out hurrying from the bathroom, soap suds on arms and a semi-washed towel in hand!

“We are going to the fair together this time! I got my leave from office,” a smiling husband told his wife.

The next morning, the little kid heard his parents talking. The police force required more personnel. The father’s leave had been cancelled. They didn’t know how to break it to the son.

“Papa, we’ll meet you at the fair. And then you can buy me an ice cream,” the kid said, boldly walking in to the room.

Tears welled up in two pairs of eyes.

***

Dogs

Finally, a customer entered. She greeted the person with a bright smile!

“Would you by any chance have change worth Rs. 500?” he asked, extending a note of the same denomination.

Her face fell! She barely had 250 bucks in her cash counter! Her shop was running at a pace slower than a snail’s. She politely turned down his request. Murmuring not so kind words, he left the shop.

Soon enough she heard the dog whimper outside. Taking that as cue for her lunch hour, like everyday she divided her lunch into two equal halves. Keeping her part aside, she went and served the rest to the old street dog lying on her spare ‘WELCOME’ door mat by the side of the shop.

Graciously Yours!

P.S. : The sacrifices made silently are the ones most worthy of applause, because they are least driven by it!

Rain.

Previous Word : Fire.

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As she walked out of her office, she was greeted by a gust of wind! She took her ear phones out to hear windows rattling and dust sweeping across. She needed to cool off after a long, bad day! A drop of water fell on her cheek. She saw a cab slow down. Her place was ten minutes away. She decided to walk down today.

He didn’t like rains. But he had to be home on time today. He and his umbrella were walking down the road in search of transport. The strong winds shook the umbrella like a leaf. Once. Twice. Thrice. By then the umbrella was useless and he was already wet. Disgusted, he folded his umbrella and kept walking down the ankle deep water. A car passing by at full speed on the pothole riled road sprayed dirty, brown water over him! He hated the rains.

Her boyfriend was working late tonight. She was home alone. She loved water. Sitting by the open window, sipping her coffee she felt the water droplets sprinkle across her face. The rain kept picking up pace. A lightning streak lit up the sky. It was followed by a thunder as strong! She shuddered. Pulling the curtains across the window, she went into her room to get her book and ear plugs.

He shivered with cold. The wind was getting colder. His skin was getting hotter. The tattered blanket he had was barely helping. The lights from the portico of the hotel nearby were inviting. He started dragging himself towards the hotel. There were cars coming in. The guards shooed him away. They wouldn’t even let him sit on the marble floor. He sat on the footpath, shivering, rain now seeping through his matted, unkempt hair.

Graciously Yours!

Fire.

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I could see the flames of fire leaping in his eyes. The hungry flames leapt higher trying to fly away with the winds to destinations unknown, on journeys more romantic. The gleaming eyes sent a chill down my spine even as the heat from the flames was making me swelter. I walked away from the man quivering, his words repeatedly playing in my mind. “I will burn you like those leaves if you ever see that boyfriend of yours again. I’ll forget you’re my wife.”

Smoke

He fumbled in his pant pocket. Nothing but a kerchief. Coat pocket. A gum wrapper. Irritated, he threw it away. Inner coat pocket. He found a stick finally! Wiping his brow, he keep his kerchief in his pant pocket again. He lit a match. He saw the flames lick the lips of the stick. The orange embers lit up the stick. He took a drag! Leaning against the pole, he let out the smoke. He felt his anxiety slipping away finally.

stove

She lit the stove. Blue flames leapt up. She kept the match box aside. Placing a pan on the stove, she added a little oil to be heated. Her son was coming back after a good, long six months! He had called her this morning and told her. She wanted to make his favourite food – at least one of it. A trickle of sweat ran down her neck. It was getting hot in here. The Sun was scorching outside. She wished her one room house had a fan that worked.

Corn Cob

They stood together in front of the corn cob seller’s stove. Time had wrinkled their skin, but couldn’t wane their love. Thirty seven years ago, when they’d gone out on their first date, a roasted corn cob was all he could buy her. Thirty seven years later, when he could afford to give her so much, she still wanted to celebrate with just a roasted corn cob and him. “It reminds me of where we actually come from,” she says. The air was chilly. She pulled her shawl tighter. The seller saw her movement too. He silently squatted on the ground and continued roasting and pushed his chair towards the lady. She sat on it and warmed her hands from the heat of the bright and shining coals as her husband lovingly looked on.

Graciously Yours!

P.S.: Would any one of you be gracious enough to come up with another word I can work on?

The Kill.

“Would you care for another drink maybe?” he asked, as they looked on at people dancing on the floor.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink,” she replied politely, smiling at the request.

“Really? I thought you had to be drunk to be so happy and lively!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment!” she said, smiling. The light flicker of pain in his eyes made her say, “But I also think I’ve taken you back to unpleasant memories.”

“May be. May be not,” he added nonchalantly.

She was intrigued. It was unsettling for her to be intrigued. She preferred intriguing.

“Care to dance?” he asked.

“I’d gladly. But the alcohol seems to be doing it’s trick fast,” pointing at the man who’d suddenly opened a bottle of champagne in the middle of the dance floor.

“I’ll shield you well and keep you protected, don’t worry,” he assured her.

Smiling, she got up but as she stepped out onto the dance floor, flashes of her past whirled past.

“Would he be her fourth kill?”

“Not before I know his story,” she answered to herself.

Graciously Yours!