As soon as Clara and Nick took their seats, he sighed loudly and stretched, causing a grandpa next to him to frown. After the chick flick started, he kicked a coke can below his legs. “I am thirsty.” he declared.
“Someone had spilled popcorn all over the front seats. To think we came to this theater,” said Nick who never cleaned his room.
He stared at some teenagers cuddling, “The current generation is indecent.” he told grandpa.
Clara was grateful for the interval. “Shall we go?”
“How about the movie?”
“I hate it.”
“Oh.” he looked crestfallen. “Okay then.”
This is in response to this week’s Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction challenge.
He did not belong to anyone. He used and threw them. Now he was sick from a terminal illness, lying alone. His housekeeper of 10 years walked to him and changed his clothes without emotion. “Thank you,” he told her. Had he spoken to her? She looked at him, stunned. He could detect some deep feeling behind her eyes for the first time. He had never known her eyes were intelligent and kind. Why had he not seen her before? The way she looked at him! He held her hands, gratified that he had found true love at last.
Thanks to Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge for this week’s word prompt.
He stood in front of the crowds, his mouth wide open, and his guitar hanging by his side. He stared at the ogling girls and the scowling boys who had been dragged there by girlfriends. He had forgotten everything. What was he supposed to do? “Come on, man. You are the greatest rock star of the century. Get going.” his lead guitarist hissed at him. The rock star blinked. He could remember nothing beyond his 10th birthday when his dad had insisted that he learn guitar. “I had always wanted to be a rock star.” his dad had said.
This is in response to Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge. The word prompt is Rock Star.
The horse flew ahead, eyes half-blinded by the fog. The exhausted soldier was in no position to command, though he led the horse with a weak hand. They had travelled for days, braving heat, storm and hunger. “Just an hour more” pleaded the soldier to a God he did not believe in. They reached the land of exile, at last. The horse slowed down at the sight of a boy. “Our country is free”, shouted the soldier with a last burst of energy, as he fell down, fatigued.
Thank you, Rochelle, for hosting Friday Fictioneers and thanks to Erin for the photo.
Steph adored oceans, rivers and even ponds. Apparently, water loved her back. That was probably why she was able to become a competent marathon swimmer. Starting with the English Channel, she was able to conquer the toughest of straits. Steph was called the ‘Queen of Channels’ until she encountered the Red straits.
Nobody had conquered ‘The Red’(as it was called) until then and the only teenage champion who attempted died mid-way in 1929. Surprisingly, her separated parents and old school friends came to see her off. Steph understood her enormous responsibility to her country and the hopeful crowd, as she dived into ‘The Red’ with a prayer.
After swimming for 18 hours, Steph was felt invigorated, instead of exhausted. She plunged on, with renewed energy, as she reached the middle of the straits. There were remnants of a wrecked ship. Steph ignored it and swam ahead, her goal in mind. All of a sudden, someone pulled her down. Seaweeds or sharks? Steph felt scared for the first time. As hard as she tried to rise above, she found herself going deep inside. There were further wreckages deep down- parts of an aeroplane. The last image she saw was that of a young man, wearing an outdated blue swimsuit. ‘The sea always claims its own.’ he said, shivering at the memory of 85 years.
This was written for Alastair Photo Fiction.
He stared at the ship, called Victoria. Now was the time to attack, he felt. The ship was surrounded by fog and his men were ready with weapons, just waiting for a word from him. He was about to turn when a moment caught his attention. An elegant woman, aboard Victoria’s deck, was examining something. He, with an eye for these things, could clearly see that the ‘something’ was diamond. Then she carelessly tossed it to the river, as he stared. Now she held a chain, examining it. In a thoughtless frame of mind, he jumped into the sea to retrieve precious jewellery.
The next moment, a squad from Victoria jumped into the nameless ship. “You are under arrest.” thundered the commander. He called a number as the dumbfounded pirates were handcuffed.
“Task done, ma’am”
The elegant lady smiled, “All for some trinklets.”
This was written for Alastair’s photo fiction.
This was the cheapest ornament he could find in the gift shop. However, it glittered and looked huge. So, Larry took it home. Mary looked at the ornament with shining eyes. She dangled it lovingly on the Christmas tree.
Everyday she went over to the living room to check if her precious glittering ball was still there. She touched it and even kissed it when she thought no one was looking. Larry noticed everything and felt envious of the ornament. He started buying expensive designer ornaments for the tree. Larry even went around decorating the house with lights and got a new Christmas tree. He decorated the tree with all ornaments, except the cheap ornament. Next day, he found it in a prominent place on the tree.
Exasperated, he unfastened the ornament from the tree and tossed it away. Mary picked it up from the rubble, “This is the first thing you bought for me in the 25 years of our life together. I would never throw it away.”
This was written for Alastair’s Photo Fiction.