Frozen - Short Story

The places I had traveled vignetted in front of my eyes, frame by frame, those streams, those mountains, that street I'd love to get lost again in, that mystery girl, those eyes that hold me even today.

The dark clouds that I had seen silhouetting the clear skies, I want to see them rain; The village just behind that river, I want to ferry in that last boat I missed that day; those words that were broken because of an airport announcement, I want them to be complete, I want to listen; the food that I could not taste that day I want to have it for the old lady, for her love on the platter.

For the miles I had covered, my shoe strings are still strong, my sole(soul) still not weathered enough, some space still in my image folder, some things yet to learn, some travels yet for soul.

My backpack, the lens, my memory card, my map, that power nap, they lay as frozen as me.

The flowers I loved so much, today I cannot touch, for I was not myself, for I was not traveling, for Alas, I was NOT alive, I am not, for I am frozen.

**

This post has been written and shared for the series 'Five Sentence Fiction'.

**

Looking forward to your comments.

Wheels - A Short Story

The sparrow on the window pane seemed to be the only commonality between the high rise and the slum, thought Manas in his air-conditioned chamber.

He remembered that some fifteen years back, this high rise too was a flowing neat river.

Several cities and educational degrees later, the time had canonized him back to this direction.

It was a difficult decision for his family and him to move their belongings in their bullock cart from the village, that now was a bustling city.

They did, and so did their lives, like the wheels of the cart that rainy night.

Wheels of Time

This post is author's entry to Five Sentence Fiction.

Please leave your feedback below. I'd love to hear from you.

Grief - A Short Story

The hour hand of the grey clock on the white wall was rushing every second.

On one side, the forlorn newspaper was waiting for its daily ordeal, on the other, the medicine strip shouted effrontarily for discipline.

Meera was cursing her decision to send her only daughter, Bhakti away on a 'revelation' tour around the world.

Then, Bhakti was in grief, having contested her mother's autocratic diktat, she had to accept it reluctantly later.

Meera changed her side on the bed, and so had the grief.

Grief - No borders, No Sides

This post is author's entry to Five Sentence Fiction.

Please leave your feedback below. I'd love to hear from you.

Fenced - A Short Story

Manas would not witness the heaps of white paper flying across the fenced Desert Dunes on his routine trip.

Yet, for some strange reason, this time he took out his Binoculars hurriedly, rattling the water bottle and story book in the backpack on its way.

With a longer vision and a shorter breath, he could catch hold of one of the many letters and a glimpse of the old man in streaking dead white and a crown of red turban over.

‘For the bread and the barter, my owed loans against the daughter;

There is an oasis so deep, in my heart when I weep;

If you could forgive me hence, and just for once travel across the fence;

The eyes die to see you flesh, and relieve the fenced soul of this mesh;

Your father is an old man now, suddenly life can betray, you know how;

My moustache no more black, but your doll still on the rack;

Stubborn I wouldn’t die in this life, for won’t forever live in death’s strife;

If you could Travel for my soul, and boundaries with no role;

To see the tears that roll often and the wrinkles that they soften;

Had this front not been  fenced, my death would not be chanced; 

Being sand, to become the sand, the body’s matter till its end,

Can’t the sand of its portion, flow me across and live this notion;

Pity our sights that share the glance, but am jealous for this air with no fence;  

For the men they apart, there are souls that cannot depart,  

For the men they apart, there are a few souls that could not depart.... ’,

as Manas read this through the white paper, he glanced that Hasrat, a young woman, perhaps the daughter, was on her knees and in tears on the other side of fence.

There were men, and well..... there are fences, Manas thought.

This post has been written and shared for the series 'Five Sentence Fiction'.

***

Looking forward to your comments and feedback.

Darkness - A Short Story

The 12th and 13th floors of 'Sunlights' used to be lit for the entire night.

This opaque trend used to amuse both Meera and Krish alike.

Both used to pity their fate of being alone, while envying the next door happiness of a complete family.

Their continual silent ordeal was witnessed just by their loneliness.

The morning after, they used to steal routine glances through the panes, little to realize that the bond between them was not of the morning Sun , but that of a .... Darkness Inside.



This post is author's entry to Five Sentence Fiction.