Flash Fiction: Lifetime

Old man Bob and granny Ginnie were sitting in their front garden.

The old couple clinked their glasses of chilled beer.

“Bob, this is bliss. Good wheat beer, a lovely breeze, and nothing to do but sit and enjoy the setting sun in each others company.”

Bob laughed.

“I agree, Ginnie. This is life at its very best.”

“That it is, darling.”

Bob and Ginnie took a long sip of the beer, draining their glasses.

“Ginnie, I have spent my life with you and spent it well. I would have no regrets even if I died right now.”

“I feel the same, Bob.”

At the very next moment, the heavy branch hanging over the couple snapped, falling on their heads with a sick thud…

Word Count: 124

Prompt: Sunday Photo Fiction October 21

SoCS: The Barbecue

It was hot sunny afternoon. I was sitting on our lawn, along with dad. The ice-box lay open, within arm’s reach. A blanket of ice cubes comfortably covered Eight pints of beer, preserving their cold sanctity. They appeared all the more appealing in the mid-day heat. Dad’s eyes were covered with dark sunglasses, but I knew that even he was eyeing the pints. We had no choice. It was mom’s rule that the beer was not be touched until everyone had arrived.

It was our fortnightly family barbecue lunch. We were waiting for my uncle’s family to arrive. Mom was huddled over the grill, marinating the meat with her special mix of spices. Meanwhile, I and dad, were sizzling in the sun, not unlike the meat on the grill. The only redeeming factor was the amazing aroma emanating from the grill. It made me drool more profusely than the sun was making me sweat. My eyes longed for the sight of my uncle’s car. I heard it before I could it see it. The red sedan made more noise than a road roller. The car halted next to our lawn with a bang and rumble. My uncle and aunt got out of the car, followed by my cousin. As always, he was glued to his phone. My aunt carried a brown parcel in her hand and my uncle lugged a crate of beer. Dad and uncle grunted at each other and shook hands. They were both men of few words. Rather, their words only poured when they had poured beer into their bellies. Mom and aunt were quite opposite in this respect. They greeted each other and started chatting away about events that had transpired in the past few days. Events which were entirely inconsequential, in my opinion. Mrs. Wilson’s new petunias, Mr. Boyd’s knee surgery and what not.

As soon as my uncle and cousin had settled down next to us, dad and me reached into the box and grabbed our bottles. My uncle and cousin followed suit. Now, it felt blissful. However, with mom in the scene, calm bliss is usually never long-lasting. No sooner had I taken my first sip of the chilled amber liquid, I heard my mom screaming at my aunt.

“Not again, Susan! How many times do I have to tell you, if you decide to get the leg piece, make sure it is well-cleaned. The next time you bring a homeless guy’s legs to barbecue, shave the hair off first.”

Well, she did have a point. Nobody liked hair mixed in a mouthful of tender, succulent human meat.

Word Count: 435

Merging two prompts here! 🙂

The first one is “Grill” by Stream of Consciousness Saturday May 26/18

The second prompt is “Sizzle” by my buddy Kristian.

Kristian is looking at starting a prompts project, do check it out! 🙂


Image Credits –


Friday Fictioneers: Fire

Finally, he had found it. It was exactly as he had seen in his visions – A pathway of steps leading to cabin in the woods. It was all for her. It had been a week since he had first seen her in his vision. Dressed in a black gown, she climbed the pathway, ever so gracefully. Midway, she looked behind her back, giving him a glimpse of her pale face and her fiery blue eyes that would pierce his soul. His intense desire for her had led him here.

Those blue eyes. They had set his heart on fire.


Head over to Friday Fictioneers to check out the prompt! 🙂



Microprose: The Assassin

It was a dark and stormy night, the deluge had pounded the demesne into submission, with rivulets of rainwater commingling with the rubicund blood of the two cadavers, riddled with holes. The shadowy assassin traipsed away, lightning illuminating the path to her next targets.


Read more about Purple Prose

Written for YeahWrite #368 Weekly Writing Challenge Microprose

Image credit:

Twittering Tales: Choice

She saw seven doors.

He stood behind her, explaining the choice to her.

“A door leads to the fountain of youth,  you could stay young and beautiful forever. Another door leads to your one true love, who you can spend the rest of your life with. Yet another door leads to a pit of precious gems, rubies, emeralds, amethysts among them. A door leads to a cellar of the choicest alcohols, liquids fit for emperors. One door leads to a buffet of the world’s best delicacies. Another door leads to an emporium, where all types of clothes exist for you, each of them perfectly fitting.

Now, here is the catch. One of the doors here leads straight to hell. The choice is yours. Pick any one.”

She closed her eyes, trying to understand the vibes coming from each door. She could not gauge anything. She had to take her chances. The odds were in her favor. Six out of seven doors were boons. She asked her inner self for an answer. She received no reply. There was no choice. She had to make a random choice.

She pointed to the fifth door. He walked up to it and smiled as he opened it. Behind the door was a dark staircase leading underground. The sign on its side read: To Hell.

She walked down the stairs, cursing her luck. He silently laughed, admiring her stupidity. She never had any sliver of a chance. Every door led to hell. He had said ‘a door or another door’ would lead to all the boons, never ‘one of these doors’.

The Devil was many things, but a liar was not one of them.


Word Count: 279 words


Written in response to Twittering Tales #82

Head over to Kat’s blog to check out this week’s photo prompt! 🙂



‘Cause of Death: His Green Faeries’



Read more about The Green Fairy

This story was in response to J.I. Rogers’ Six-Word Story Challenge – “Faeries”


If you liked this story, do check out Jump and Bloodlust

Your thoughts on my stories or on The Green Fairy are most welcome! 🙂

Six-Word Story Challenge – “Inspiration”


‘Dark Alley, Parents Shot: His Inspiration’


This story was in response to J.I. Rogers’ Six-Word Story Challenge – “Inspiration”


If you liked this story do give Darkness and Colour a read! 🙂


This one may have been a bit cryptic, Apologies!!


I would love to hear your thoughts on my work! Thanks!


“Bokeh, Bokeh!”

I still remember my Sensei’s words. He would whack me hard on the head every time I committed a mistake. I remember hating it. It made me very angry. I was training in the art of Kyūdō. I never had any say in it. My family forced me to do it and so I did it. As an inquisitive child, I had asked Sensei what bokeh meant.

“Little one, it means blur.”

“But Sensei, don’t you want me to focus?”

“Yes, I do. One can only truly focus on the target if the rest of the world is blurred. Thus – Bokeh.”

It had sounded like sound wisdom back then. So, I had accepted it without question.

Sensei’s concept of Bokeh trained me well. By the time I was a teenager, I had achieved mastery in Kyūdō . It was time for me to join my family business. Within a month of my joining, I had my first kill. I belonged to a family of assassins. Killing came naturally to me. However, killing with such a skill and precision was unseen even in my family. I never missed my targets. Whether it was a crowded street, a speeding car or quiet office, my targets never escaped. They were the only things I saw. They were the objects in the forefront. The rest was just a blur. However, I had no idea that the concept that was the source of my assassination skills, would serve to undermine me. I found it out the hard way, two years ago.

It was a routine assassination. Of course, no assassination is really a routine – every target, every scenario is different. However, after you have killed as many people as I have, it all feels like a routine. I get information and half the money up front. I study the area and find a good spot. I camp over there and wait for my target. Once the target appears, I take one shot and get away. I get paid in full the following day, and that is the end of business. However, two years ago, not all of these things happened. After I took the shot and saw the target fall to the ground, I knew something was wrong. They were expecting it. They had wanted me to take the shot so that they could find me, and find me they did. I had been so focused on my target, that I missed the bigger picture. I was apprehended.

It has been two years to that day now. I have been rotting in this prison. Sometimes, I feel Sensei trained me too well. All I can focus on are the walls holding me in, the lights of freedom are Bokeh.



This story was inspired from the picture prompt:

Would love to hear your thoughts on the story and your interpretation of the picture!



“So Mr. Khurana, what did you see in your dream?”

Vishnu Khurana was sitting in a plush recliner. Sitting directly in front of him, in an equally comfortable recliner was Dr. Bose. The décor of the clinic created a relaxing environment. Vishnu sat staring at the ceiling with his shoulders hunched and arms resting on his laps. He looked troubled.

“Doctor, is this really helping? The weird dreams just don’t stop.”

Dr. Bose adjusted his thin frame glasses and uncrossed his legs.

“Mr. Khurana, we have been seeing each other just for a week now. She requested me to talk to you and help you in dealing with your nightmares.”

Vishnu suddenly stood up.

“I have told you, they are not nightmares.”

“Yes, yes. These not-so-pleasant dreams, we will deal with them. Please have a seat and tell me about the one you had yesterday night. Was it vague again?”

Vishnu sat back into the recliner.

“Doctor, the dreams are never vague. Just this particular character..”

“..the lady?”

“Yeah, the lady. The rest of the things I see in my dream are crystal-clear. So, the dream began with me lying on a charpoy in the middle of nowhere. I just lay there gazing at the cloudless blue sky. There were no birds, no sun even. Just a constant shade of blue.”

“Do continue.”

“After that, I got up from the charpoy and a motorcycle appeared from nowhere. It just apparated right in front of me.”

“That happens in dreams. It is quite normal. Go on.”

“I got on the bike and began going down the road.”

“Which road?”

“There was just one road. It also came into existent right after I got on the bike.”

The doctor scribbled something in his notebook.

“Very well, go on.”

“As I was riding down the road, all I could see was barren land all around me. It was arid, as if it had been devoid of water for decades.”

Dr. Bose nodded, indicating that Vishnu should continue.

“Suddenly, I reached a city. There were buildings and shops and parked vehicle, but no people. It was an empty city.”

“There was not a single person present?”

“None. No living thing at all.”

Dr. Bose nodded and made more notes. Vishnu reached for the glass of water kept on the adjacent table. He took a large gulp and placed the glass back in its position.

“Then I continued riding and reached the bazaar. I could tell because it had different shops there. In fact, all establishments over there were shops other than one. That one was a temple.”

“A temple. Alright, go on Mr. Khurana.”

“I get off the bike and step inside the temple. Again, there is no one there – complete darkness. However, a few feet away I can see a luggage bag. I could see it because it was glowing. So, I walked towards it, picked it up and walked out.”

“You did not check what was in the bag?”

“No, doctor I did not. I just walked out and got on to the bike. Then I sped off.”

“Okay, Mr. Khurana. Please continue.”

“I took the same road and returned to the same charpoy, from where I had started my dream. And then I saw her – The lady. I handed the luggage bag over to her, she walked off, and I woke up with the feeling that something was wrong. Like every night.”

“In your previous visits, you had said you could not see her clearly. How do you know it was the same lady?”

“I know, because I could feel it, doctor. She felt familiar. This time, I could see her a bit more clearly. I could make out that she was wearing a short red dress.”

“What about her face? Get a look at that?”

“No, doctor. The rest of her, including her face was still vague.”

Dr. Bose clicked his pen, indicating the session was over.

“Well, we seem to be making progress, Mr. Khurana. These troublesome dreams will stop soon. I am increasing the dosage of your medicines for now. Don’t forget to take them twice every day.”

The doctor handed over a medicine bottle to Vishnu who pocketed it. The two got up from their spots and began walking towards the door of the clinic.

“Thank you, doctor. I hope these dreams stop occurring.”

“I hope so too, Mr. Khurana. We will make that happen. Have a nice day.”

“Goodbye, doctor.”

Dr. Bose closed the door behind Vishnu. He walked to the window and watched as Vishnu got into his car and drove away. After he had gone out of sight, Dr. Bose fished out his phone and placed a call. A sultry voice answered the call.

“Hi, doctor. How did it go?”

“It is not going as well as planned. He remembers a great deal of his night activities.”

“Does he remember it all?”

“No, it is just a vague representation. He sees an empty city instead of a room full of people he has killed and other such things.”

“Then it is okay, the drug is working. He has no idea what he is up to every night.”

“Yes, it is working. Besides, I gave your husband a stronger dosage of the drug. Just in case.”

“Very well, doctor. Our plan seems to be going in order.”

“By the way, were you wearing red yesterday night when you collected the bag of drugs from him?”

“That was good doctor! How did you know?”

“Just a vague guess.”




Image courtesy:

via Daily Prompt: Vague