Unfading fights – 42 word story
During our childhood fights he always had won.
Today I helplessly watched him quarreling with his neighbor in the Alzheimer’s ward.
“Martin, why are you fighting?“
“I lost my Lucy long ago, I MISS HER.”
My heart broke, me being that Lucy.
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Word Count: 42
In response to YeahWrite’s GargleBlaster grid #158 – Click on the image to see the other entries!
Remembering Marquez!
Apart from the magical realism presented by Marquez, I always keep in my heart some of his touching words that remind me of all the love one could ever have. I often break down to tears just with the memory of them…this may sound weird at least to some one out there…But it’s a truth…I am happy that I am NOT a giddy and giggly type of person/reader, but a sentimental and hopelessly romantic one who has both feet firmly fixed on to the earth…I fly…only if I decide to….
It’s true that I am not a voracious reader. Still, most of us tend to love writers as we fall in love with their characters, actually with the souls of those characters. Your guess (if at all you are guessing) is right, like many, I use to have nonfictional feelings towards fictional characters.
Marquez never dies!
Think of love as a…
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42 words!
“Do you see her much?” She asked.
“Yes, every day!” He replied.
“Why you wanted to cheat me?” Her eyes were teary, face red.
“I didn’t!” He told.
“How come you say that?” She blurted.
“Because she is my mother!”
He choked.
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Word Count: 42
In response to YeahWrite’s GargleBlaster grid #157 – Click on the image to see the other entries!
When will I be loved? – Daily prompt
{In response to Daily prompt}
I never had a clearer picture about this anytime before Daily Prompt asked me.
Transformation-100 word story
{100 word story in response to Photo prompt }
‘It was a palace!And after the war, it became a pyramid!’
As a child grandma’s depiction of our house amazed me.
Curiosity triggered me later.
‘You wouldn’t recognize anything there!’
Grandma warned. But I didn’t quit.
There the remains proved her right. With each moment, hatred towards the enemies rushed through my veins.
View of a chair with a folded tarpaulin, amidst the stubble.
A map it was. The names of the soldiers, their families and homes were legibly marked.
Some night,some soldier might have sat on that chair, and hoped of joining his family.
My hatred slowly,stiffly melted away.
The sepal-Short story
The sepal couldn’t rest, how could she?
She was curious and anxious for the petal babe sleeping inside her.
Feeling like a “big sister”, she took pride in protecting the little one.
She knew the petal babe was florid, but tiny then, and would be sleeping peacefully in her bosom. She felt motherly love for it. Being the haven for the petal babe, what an honour it was!
The sepal thought, “I have been guarding this lovely babe since some days now … tomorrow when it blooms in full, the world would be wondering to see the alluring and gleaming petal, they would behold that splendour with all their amazed eyes, they would feel glad about me too, because it was me who kept the petal safe for many days; What more I need to feel great!”.
Her dream delighted her.
It was a glorious spring morning, calm and cool…
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Closure-Short story
The rain outside has stopped, but not the one inside me.
I have lost my identity, who was I?
I am a doctor, an eye specialist for the public. Yes I am!
I am the mother of my two kids, a 25 year daughter and 21-year-old son. Yes I am !
I am the wife of a famous cardiologist, the woman behind his success and his strongest support and love, as he often tells his friends. Am I? I was doubtful.
I wasn’t even a bit doubtful about it, until today.
A month back my husband had met with a terrible accident. He had lost his memory. A heart-broken me prayed for him, cared him like a babe, spoke to him, smiled to him and tried my best to bring him back some memory, but he stared me like we had never met.
I used to sit near the window outside his critical care…
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