Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Sole Survivor


So there I was in the park, enjoying a little tipple but must have dozed off.

The midnight gong of the clock tower woke me up.  Out there on the road stood a splendid golden coach, harnessed with six cream colored horses.  The coachman wore a powdered wig and silk stockings.  There were six footmen in splendid liveries.

As the last gong sounded the coach became a pumpkin, the horses transformed into mice and the coachman into a rat.  Six lizards scurried away while a pretty beggar girl, limping in one shoe, ran past crying.

I am never drinking again. 

Written for Friday Fictioneers (episode 99). Word Count : 100

A little bit whimsicality this time to get away from the serious stuff.  Hope the Fairy Blogmother approves.

To read the tales written by the other Friday Fictioneers click here

Monday, November 16, 2015

War and Remembrance

PHOTO PROMPT – © J Hardy Carroll

My dearest beloved, I do not know if I will make it back home to you and the little one.  This last week we have witnessed horrors undreamt. Even Guruji’s rendition of the great war of Mahabharat had not prepared me for this carnage.  

Yesterday the sky was black with smoke and only a few houses remained standing.  Of the rest nothing was left save their charred shells.

 The young major sahib died in my arms this morning.  He asked that we not to visit him soon but in these times who can promise anything.  Remember me with no regrets.
Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

Right so I am definitely going to be the last entry this time.  Hoping that it gets accepted by the link.
Last Wednesday was Remembrance Day.  This year 11 November marks the 97th anniversary of the Armistice which ended the First World War (1914–18).  Over one million Indian troops served overseas, of whom 62,000 died and another 67,000 were wounded. In total at least 74,187 Indian soldiers died during the war.

The experiences of the many Indian soldiers who fought in the first world war, that has just been digitised by Europeana 1914-1918 and the British Library.

To read contributions by the other Friday Fictioneers click here

Wednesday, November 04, 2015

Parched Land

PHOTO PROMPT – © Connie Gayer
When the call came he was ready.  Quickly gathering his cap, he and his men stepped out, the driver waiting as he slipped into the front seat while the men clambered into the back.             

They sat in a sullen silence as the vehicle clattered along the road.  The road, set in the rural heartland, taking them past the once busy fertile fields.  In days gone by this would have been the start of the harvest season.       

They found the body in the midst of the parched land, a pesticide bottle next to it, just another farmer who took his life.


Written for the Friday Fictioneers  Word Count : 100.  

I have written a fictional version of what is a very sad scenario playing around the world these days.  Small, family farms are closing down all around the world for the past few decades with disastrous consequences for farming families.  According to the National Crime Record Bureau (NCRB) of India, as many as 5,650 farmers committed suicide in India last year. This works out to one farmer suicide in every 100 villages or one farmer suicide in every block in the country last year. One of India's leading newspapers reported this story recently.  In midst of Government apathy this journalist has been documenting these stories.

To read contributions by the other Friday Fictioneers click here

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Still Waters

© Dale Rogerson

He stood in the first flush of the morning savoring a moment of calm contemplation.  

All that could be heard was the gentle swishing sound of the water lapping softly at the bank of the lake.  The damp smell of the marshy wetlands permeated the air as he watched birds skim over the surface of the lake. 

After a lifetime of work tucked in cloistered rooms he felt a sense of peace as never before.  Popping out hesitantly from the water was the central leg of the swivel armchair and its ergonomic backrest.

The boss fortunately was in deeper waters.


Written for the Friday Fictioneers  Word Count : 100.  

Once you see the chair you can't 'unsee' it.  To read what the other Friday Fictioneers saw click here

Thursday, October 22, 2015

The Travelling Companions


I see them huddled together waiting to board the bus.  The big guy with a Stetson, the petite dark haired woman; the couple arguing as the entire group stands pretending not to listen.  The flotsam and jetsam bundled together by the authorities on their way out.

My travelling companions, I see the pity in your eyes for me now.  We are about to embark on a journey of self discovery.  It will be one to remember, an exploration of your innermost desires.  But unfortunately in the end there will be only one survivor. 

I look around and pick one out.


Written for the Friday Fictioneers  Word Count : 100.  

Hurrah time to squeeze in an entry for this busy week.   To travel with the other Friday Fictioneers, click here

And if you can please do read the two 100 word stories I wrote for Narrator International.  A format that I picked with my Friday Fictioneers journey ;-)

Saturday, October 17, 2015

News Flash (Fiction)

I have two flash fiction pieces in Narrator International's Picture It competition



Check Mate

I hope you like them

Wednesday, October 07, 2015

The Spring Fair


I used to love Spring Fairs and merry-go-rounds.  

Delight in the changing seasons and the happy sounds.  Watching young ones clamber up giant inflatable slides, bounce on jumping castles and spin around on rides.  Their smiles, laughter and tender cherubic faces, such love I felt.  I only carried those toffees to spread the cheer. 

You took it away the day you left.  Such acrimonious tales of lies and falsehoods! How could I explain anything to those unfeeling men?  Those images on my laptop I never looked at them the way they did.

You’ve ruined it all, I loved your kids.

Written for the Friday Fictioneers  Word Count : 100.  

A return to darkness as I aimed for a disgusting, slimy grovelling voice in this one.

To see the stalls run by other Friday Fictioneers, click here