“Do it! Now!” the scathing voice sent shivers down her spine. “I can’t. He loves me.” She choked back the tears. “Hah! Sure. I can see that.” The voice gazed at her bruises. “Leave me alone.” She averted her eyes from the piercing gaze. “The b**t**d is p**s drunk. Snoring like a pig. Take the… Continue reading Conflict

Final Moments

Her once taut rippling muscles had slacked. The thick glossy mane had lost luster. She could no longer lithely trot down the meadow or forage for food. Staring at her twitching muzzle & lifeless 16-hands-tall body, Betty sighed. Putting Belle to sleep was a difficult decision. 276 Characters Written for Twittering Tale #99 – 28 August… Continue reading Final Moments

Fetch a pail of water

“My legs are aching. How far is the village?” “We’re almost there.” Kunta looked at his nine-year-old sister. She carefully wiped off the sweat beads with one hand while clutching the metal handle of the plastic bucket with the other. This is her first day on the job. Her elder brother, who’s been doing it… Continue reading Fetch a pail of water

Behind the curtain

Braving blinding camera flashes from behind the dark oversized diamond-studded glares; dodging paparazzi who chase her round the clock seeking titbits of her clandestine affairs. Strutting down the red carpet in sky-high Christian Louboutin(s), flaunting perfectly bronzed décolletage in long curve-hugging velveteen(s). Smokey eyelids; lips painted with the deepest shade of crimson; wavy locks gathered… Continue reading Behind the curtain

The Secret Cult

After stepping on the asphalt, the hitchhiker quickly combed through the deserted area and paced down the sidewalk. On reaching the spot, he checked the contents in his satchel-vials of blood, a human skull, and some ancient manuscripts. “Hail Satan!” A voice cried from the sewer 279 Characters Written for Twittering Tale #98  

A misty tribute

Golden flames flickered in Oshima’s misty eyes as she floated the paper lantern, engraved with her granny’s name, down the river. She had traveled miles to participate in this age-old tradition of helping the departed return to the spirit world peacefully. Orphaned at the age of six, she was single-handedly raised by the feisty woman.… Continue reading A misty tribute

‘Spray’ n ‘Stroll’

The first wave hits her with sweet notes of rose, lavender, and lily of the valley. As the mist settles down and blends into the warmth of her luminous skin, a fruity, citrusy underscore replaces the primary medley of floral hints. Admiring the dark little art deco bottle with the tip of her forefinger, she… Continue reading ‘Spray’ n ‘Stroll’

The Baker

Every evening on her way home from the office, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting from the quaint bakery on the corner of the street tickles her senses, enhances her cravings. She is no fan of bread. The sweet aroma of flour mixed with flavoured oils and fresh herbs does entice her, but the… Continue reading The Baker

Elusive Muse

Another rejection letter, eighteenth in a row. Her last book was published in 1990. Post that, she barely managed to scribble down a few short stories in mediocre magazines. “One-hit wonder,” critics say. Every night, she’d sit before her typewriter, scourging for words. But, the muse eludes her, refuses to show up. She digs through… Continue reading Elusive Muse