Copyright – Sarah Ann Hall
This short story was written for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. It is a continuation of my previous two stories. You can find Part 1 and Part 2 here.
The doctor waited in the bushes to meet Sal. Nobody knew Sal’s full name. He knew all the happenings in both the enemy camps.
“Did you give those fake pills to Mary?” Sal asked.
“Yes.” said Tony.
“We learnt that Mary’s husband wants to go back to her. He is too valuable a soldier to lose.” said Sal. He outlined their plan for a few more minutes before walking away.
Tony stood there, looking at him. He had betrayed the government and turned to the rebels for the safety of his family. But, he could not be untrue to his profession. He had given Mary the required pills to cure infection.
Mary looked at those tablets. She had made a quick decision while hurrying from Tony’s bunker. She had thrown away the pills given by him. Her heart condition, which she had kept from everybody else, was getting worse. She could not imagine the plight of her children left to the enemy’s mercy.
With both her children dead, it was her turn now. She chewed the sweet pill.
“They have given me a week’s notice.” said Ronnie.
“For what?” asked Mike.
“To find a new job.” said Ronnie. “I fell asleep during the teleconference yesterday. They found out that I have been sleeping for the whole week.”
“Of course, they would notice. Why don’t you give up drinking altogether, man?” asked Mike.
There was a buzz near the bar. The bartender, after vigorously shaking the cocktail, spilled a considerable portion on the customer. There were curses all around.
Ronnie quickly walked over to him. “They lose their taste with shaking. This is how you do it.” He mixed the ingredients in perfect portions and stirred them gently. “Done in 30 seconds. There!”
Customers murmured appreciatively, while throwing tips at him. Ronnie looked up, embarrassed, to see Mike showing him the victory sign.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and Ted for the photo.
This short story was written for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Kent for the photo.
“Is the apartment empty?” asked Sally, crouching in a corner.
“It seems to be” said Adrian, looking around.
They were runaway lovers. Adrian’s influential family had already dispatched search parties to locate them.
“The floor is creaky” said Adrian. Sally came to stand near him.
The ground opened and they fell below with a thud. Sally groaned while Adrian tried to get up. It was a dark cellar. There were confused noises around. A group of people stood around Sally and Adrian. Some of them made faces while some laughed and a few cried. All of them were old; except for a couple.
The couple helped Sally and Adrian rise from the floor. “What place is this and who are you?” asked Adrian.
“All of us are runaway lovers who took refuge in the apartment above. Some of them have been imprisoned in this cellar for the past 40 years. There is no escape route and many of them have lost their senses. Now we are awaiting the same fate.”
“Dad, are we going to the tennis club?” asked Joel
Joel was excited. He was glad when his school closed for the summer. He disliked studies and did not have the patience for books. He had already enrolled in the swimming class and looked forward to tennis. His father drove through suburbs and stopped in front of the public library.
“Dad, what is this?”
“I will return in 3 hours.”
“Wait. Don’t go” shouted Joel
This was so unfair. Joel neither knew the way home nor did he have money. He walked reluctantly to the library. He had heard that Harry Potter was reasonably tolerable, so he went to the children’s section. He struggled through the first page, but found himself engrossed as the plot unfurled. He was still absorbed in his novel, when his father returned.
“Dad, can you wait for a few more minutes?”
“Aren’t you angry?”
“Why?” Joel asked, distractedly. “Can we get a library membership card?”
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and Claire for the photo
“I have hidden the ruby in the large oak tree.” gasped Ned, the thief, in his last confession
“Which tree?” asked Detective Banks, hurriedly
“There is only one in the forest.” whispered Ned
Those were his last words. Ned had evaded the law for a long time. His latest conquest was big; an expensive ruby. The police had spotted him in the deep forest and fatally shot him.
Banks’s eyes turned huge with greed. Nobody else had listened to the confession. He sped in his bike towards the forest. Ah! There was the lone oak tree. Banks stood near the tree, studying it, when he felt a sharp pain in his hand. He looked up to see a hornet’s nest. They thronged him before he could think or react.
The ruby was safe inside the hornet’s nest. The faithful hornets were determined to guard it till Ned returned.
Written for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. Thanks to Janet for the photo.
“I want to join the maths coaching class during holidays. But, I have no money” said Alvin.
“Why don’t you work part-time in the library?” asked Harry
“Oh, I have asked them. No vacancy. “
“Are you strong in any subject? You can tutor the school students.”
“No, I am not.” sulked Alvin. “I have also asked around the campus. They don’t have a vacancy.”
The following day, Alvin saw a strange old bike in front of his house. Harry was chatting with his sister.
“Hi, Harry. What is this?”
“Listen, Alvin. Many houses in the neighbourhood still have milk delivered to them. So, why don’t you become a milkman? You get to ride this different bike and also earn money. What do you say?”
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and Sandra for the photo.
It was spring. Trees were weighed down with leaves and flowers bloomed all around.
“I am looking for somebody perfect” said Nikhil as he returned the photo to the marriage broker.
He had advertised in all the matrimonial websites for the ‘perfect’ life partner. So far, he was not satisfied with any of the proposals. He found fault with all of them. Nobody was good enough for him. However, he never bothered to do a self-check and his mother fed his ego. Though Nikhil’s father was a man of reason, he was subdued by their collective voices.
The parents were now gone and Nikhil had turned 45, but he still did not find his bride. Years passed and the trees were drained of leaves, looking empty. So did Nikhil, as he leaned back in his recliner, still waiting for the perfect girl.
This was written for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Scott Vanatter for the photo.
It was 11 PM and Tony had still not returned. Mona inhaled the fresh pain of her new house, when she heard a loud noise outside. She went to the kitchen window to find a couple arguing in the opposite twelfth floor apartment. The girl moved to the balcony while the limping man followed her. Before Mona could grasp what was happening, the man pushed the woman down.
Mona screamed and rushed out of her house, only to collide with a neighbour. She related the events to him. He looked at her quietly and said, “Five years ago, the woman was pushed to death by the man. He was sent to prison where he was mysteriously killed. Since then, neighbours have witnessed scenes of their quarrel in the night. So, we always shut our windows by 7 in the evening.” The neighbour saw a shocked Mona returning to her house. He continued walking down the stairs with a slight limp.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers
“I have to clean the barn and fetch some fresh corn and oats.” said Sam
“The new horse seems so restless. He needs to be exercised.”
“I noticed the grey mare was rather unsteady.”
“We need to look into it. She might have stepped on some stones.” said Sam
“Why can’t Carson do his work? He is the groom, after all.”
“Oh! The owner does not trust humans. That is why we are here.” said Sam, the workhorse, as he reached for the hose pipe.
Thank you, Rochelle, for hosting Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Doug for this lovely photo.
Jim stood up after explaining the job details to Jon. Now, it was up to Jon to carry it forward. Jim looked around his office. He had joined as a fresh graduate 5 years ago. He had learned so much here; experienced joy, endured pressures and disappointments. This was the time to move on, towards career growth. Jim would miss everything here, his team, his place by the window and the plastic flowers, which would never grow old or move anywhere.
Thank you, Rochelle, for hosting Friday Fictioneers and Lora Mitchell for the picture.