Tag Archive | Fiction

Friday Fictioneers – The Crown Prince

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“This is our gift to the crown prince.” the sage told the king, beckoning to the men who carried three boxes. The king signalled to the prince to open the red box. It revealed a beautiful woman with reddish blond hair and gentle blue eyes. The prince’s eyes shone as he walked over to the blue one. It opened to a svelte Eastern beauty with raven hair and wild dark eyes.

The smitten prince strolled to the white box, his eyes shining with greed. Upon finding the box empty, he went inside. He was calm when he emerged two minutes later. He removed his crown and handed them to his father, “I renounce everything.” he said as he walked barefoot to the forest.

This was written for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rich Voza for the photo.

Alastair’s Photo Fiction – The Return

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Mr Burns reached the shore and saw the disarray in his immediate neighbourhood. He quickly took a shovel and began to work. After he was satisfied, he went inside the house to see his old books scattered around. He dusted and arranged them in order. It was amazing that he was able to accomplish so much in a short period of time.

Mr Burns proceeded to dust his photo on the wall. Below his picture was the inscription, Simon Burns, 1920-1949. The housekeeper entered his room and fainted with a scream.

‘Never does her job, but faints and spreads stories.’ thought Simon Burns, disgruntled, as he floated out of the house.

Written for Alastair’s Photo Fiction.

Friday Fictioneers – Credit Card Debt

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Johnson peered inside, ‘Mary, are you done?

“No, dear. I just saw a beautiful silk gown. I will be back.”

She disappeared. Johnson looked inside, but Mary was nowhere to be found. He looked forlorn.

“Who is that?” a surprised customer asked the saleswoman, Joan.

“Oh! He is old Mr Johnson. His spendthrift wife died while shopping here and left him with a credit card debt of $50,000. He has been that way ever since.”

The customer looked dumb-struck while another salesgirl suppressed her giggle. Joan was so good at telling stories.

Meanwhile, Mary, alive and well, was shopping in the other part of the store.

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and John Nixon for the photo.

Picture It & Write – Esteem

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Tom’s thoughts were elsewhere as he rode his bicycle. Rose refused to speak to him. In addition to that, she had taken to ridiculing him. She knew that he was devoted to her. Then, why this attitude, he wondered.

As Tom sped, he did not notice his small tennis ball slipping down. Then he saw it sliding down the hill. Tom hurried to locate the ball, but it was lost in the muddy water below. He considered going after the ball, but did not make the effort. He sat on the edge, lost in thought. Was it worth it? Should he reach for a ball lost in dirt? Another thought struck him. Why was he devoted to someone who did not care for him? If Rose could not spot his merits, it was her problem. He would wait for the right girl, but never give up his self-esteem for anything or anyone.

Tom got up and confidently walked to his cycle. He whistled now as the world looked new.

Written for Ermilia’s Picture it & Write

Picture it & Write – Phil and the Glass

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“Why didn’t you tell me all of it?” asked Jessica, coldly.

“All of what?” asked Phil, as they walked to the beach.

“You didn’t clarify that your family property is to be donated to charities and you are not going to inherit anything.”

“How does it matter? I am an accountant and have a regular salary..” said Phil.

Jessica tried to swallow her disappointment as she looked at the floor. Then, she took a deep breath.

“Phil, I am sorry. I cannot marry you.”

“Why, is it….”

“No, it is not the money. I feel that you have not been honest with me.  You misled me. This is  not what I am looking for.”

“Jessica..”

“Goodbye, Phil.”

Phil stared after her. He was surprised that relief was his uppermost feeling. He looked at the glass beside him. The glass looked empty and unattractive without the wine. But, it was in peace as it reflected the sand and the sun. He felt like the glass.

This was written for Ermilia’s Picture it & Write. To read the first part, click here.

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Soul – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

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Sameer bowed in front of the bejewelled silver idol before leaving for school. It was the last day of his exams. He copied word by word from his friend while the negligent examiner hardly noticed. So, a sprightly Sameer went to the prayer hall in his house to thank God when he found the eyes missing from the idol. He shrugged and walked away.

A bored Sameer asked his mother for money to watch the latest movie, but she refused. So, he hit and slapped his younger brother in anger. That night he opened the cupboard and stealthily took a large amount of cash. While slipping away, his eyes fell on the idol, which was bereft of its jewellery. Did his mother remove them? He shrugged again and moved away.

The next day his parents desperately searched all over the house for money, which was meant to pay his brother’s school fees. Sameer remained silent till the noon before slithering away to spend the cash on the movie and other revelries. The house was strangely quiet when he returned. He passed the idol on the way to his bed and found that it had turned entirely black. Sameer felt that he was staring into his soul.

Written for Alastair’s Photo Fiction

Picture it & Write – The Disappearing Act

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The magician told sixteen-year old Linda, “The first act would involve you disappearing inside the large box and when the box is opened, Mrs McNeil would come out of it.”

“What about me then?”

“There is an underground passage beneath the box. You can slip down to the basement. Mrs McNeil, was that clear? “asked the magician to the sixty year-old new performer.

Mrs McNeil nodded her understanding.

The stage was set for the performance.

“Now for our disappearing act.” the announcer said in a booming voice.

Linda smiled, parading in her outrageous costume. Then, the magician opened the lid and she crawled inside the box. He opened the box after two minutes.  An old woman appeared from the box and the audience applauded. But, the magician was astonished. She was not Mrs McNeil. Had there been last-minute replacements, he thought irritably. He disliked unprofessional behaviour.

The magician hurried to the basement after his show. Finding it empty, he joined his team in the first floor. “Where is Mrs McNeil?” he thundered. No one knew where she was.

“Okay, have you seen Linda?” he asked.

“Here I am.” said a young voice.

The team looked around, but Linda was nowhere to be found.

“It is me.” said the old woman, who had appeared from the box.

“Who are you? Where is Linda?”

“I am Linda.” she sobbed. “When I made my way down the basement, I met with Mrs McNeil. She looked at me strangely and walked towards me. I felt her disappearing through me. All of a sudden, I felt exhausted and my skin shrunk. I feel that I have lived for 100 years. Oh, what am I going to do now? Give me back.” she cried.

Written for Ermilia’s Picture it & Write

Alastair’s Photo Fiction – Impulsive

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Will gazed at the river sadly. The water was smooth, but what terrible secrets did it hide underneath?

Six months ago, he had travelled in the same road with his wife, Shaolin. They argued, as they often did. She insisted that they get their youngest enrolled in a new school as she found it difficult to pick and drop him. He argued that the present school was the best for beginners. Shaolin raised her voice and said that he never listened to her and this was just an example. Will screamed back and regretted the very day he married her. At this, she looked shocked at him for a moment. Then, she opened the car door and threw herself outside. A stunned Will stopped the car, but she picked herself and ran towards the river. All he could see was her white dress in the wind, then it disappeared with a loud thud.

He was devastated and his children were inconsolable. His loving eldest daughter had now stopped speaking to him. Shaolin had taken their happiness, hope and faith with her.

This was written for Alastair’s Photo Fiction.

Alastair’s Photo Fiction – Confused

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Roopa hesitated in the lawn of her palatial bungalow. A month earlier, she had eloped in the middle of a night to live with her boyfriend. A salesman at a boutique, he had seduced her with sweet talks and promises. An under-age Roopa ran away with him without informing anybody. Unable to live in a meagre income and missing her luxurious house, she had sneaked away when he was asleep.

She paused outside her house, when she heard voices.

“Aren’t you going to search for her?” asked her aunt.

“It is as well that she ran away. Now the property belongs to us.”

“She might come back to claim it.”

“Never. You left your house for me when I was just a boutique salesman. Did you ever go back?”

Her aunt made a face and did not reply.

Roopa stood for a few minutes in silence. Then she ran down the steps, hoping to reach his house before he woke up.

Written for Alastair’s Photo Fiction.

Friday Fictioneers – The Disfigured Doll

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“This old piano belongs to my first wife. Would you play for me?” asked Charles to Ruby, his girlfriend.

Ruby sat in front of the piano and removed a disfigured doll. Slowly, she started tuning the piano.

Just as she was finding music, she heard a scream.

“How dare you throw my grandson’s toy to the floor? Who are you?”

Ruby saw an old woman with dishevelled hair and wrinkled dress in the foot of the stairs.

“This is my mother-in-law.” said Charles, embarrassed and resigned. He waited for her to leave.

But, Ruby picked the toy from the floor, dusted it and walked to the old lady. “I am so sorry. Tell me about your grandson.” she said, softly.

This was written for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. Thanks to John Nixon for the photo.