short story

THE WACKY WEEKEND CHALLENGE #4: Shower

First off, I apologize for the delay in posting this week’s challenge!

 

Here are the fantastic entries from  last week’s challenge themed ‘Black‘:

The Whacky Weekend Challenge #3 — Black – Ruth Scribbles

The Accident – This, That, and The Other

Dark Night of the Soul – Culture Shocks

My Unlived Life – Culture Shocks

Shine a Light – Musings of a Soul Eclectic

Gone into reverse – My Random Ramblings

Here we are – A Pause for Nature

Wacky Weekend Challenge # 3 – wide-eyed wanderer

Where are all the Greens? – And Miles to go before I sleep…

Erotic Micro-Fiction: Inked Submission

 

Another lovely roundup this week! 😀

I enjoyed all the reads here!!

Now, on to this week’s prompt….

*drumroll*

SHOWER

Should you choose to accept the challenge, do leave the link to your response in the comments below.

To know all the details about this challenge follow the link below:

The Wacky Weekend Challenge Rules

Kindly respond to this challenge by the end of 9th December, 2018…

Happy reading, and happy writing! 🙂

 

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The Wacky Weekend Challenge #2: Explosion

Here are the fantastic entries from  last week’s challenge themed ‘water‘:

Ruth Scribbles – https://rhscribbles.wordpress.com/2018/11/11/whacky-weekend-challenge-water/

Ramya Tantry – https://ramyatantry.wordpress.com/2018/11/11/water-did-we-consume-too-much/

H.R.R. Gorman – https://hrrgorman.wordpress.com/2018/11/11/stagnation/

935sanah – https://apausefornature.wordpress.com/2018/11/12/those-waters/

Violet Lentz – https://violetslentz.home.blog/2018/11/14/55/

Wide-Eyed Wanderer – https://wideeyedwanderingspoonie.wordpress.com/2018/11/15/water-torture/

The Dark Netizen – https://thedarknetizen.wordpress.com/2018/11/15/flash-fiction-captive/

Susi Bocks: https://iwriteher.com/2018/11/13/fluid/

 

These are all really great reads! 🙂

 

Now, on to this week’s prompt….

*drumroll*

EXPLOSION

Should you choose to accept the challenge, do leave the link to your response in the comments below.

To know all the details about this challenge follow the link below:

The Wacky Weekend Challenge Rules

Kindly respond to this challenge by the end of 25th November, 2018…

Happy reading, and happy writing!  🙂

Finish The Story: The Art Student

Welcome to Finish the Story

I start a story, then another has to pick up the story and add to it, then hand it off to another person, etc. until the story is complete. This has proven to be quite fun in a blogging situation since we all have different approaches.

Rules–

1 Copy the story below as it appears when you receive it (and the rules please).

2 Add somehow to the story in whichever style and length you choose.

3 Tag only 1 person.

4 If you choose to not participate or finish the story, please comment/tag this post so that I know.

The Art Student

The Haunted Wordsmith

Amy checked herself in the rear-view mirror one last time before heading to C101 in Hawthorne Hall. Just a year ago, she walked those halls as a student, and now she was teaching her very own class.

The door was unassuming, but behind it, magic happened. The class was exactly as it was when she was a freshman. Easels and stools filled the center of the room while cabinets were filled with paints, sponges, canvases, and everything anyone needed to learn how to become an artist.

Students started filing in. Right at 10:00, Amy started her first lesson.

“Hey everyone,” she said, “thanks for signing up for The Human Form. This class is an introduction to drawing the human body.”

The students groaned. That surprised her because this had been her favorite class, but she carried on anyway.

“For our first lesson, I have requested a model who,” she paused and looked at the clock, “should be here any minute. Today –”

A knock on the door interrupted her. Fifteen students gasped and Amy looked stunned when …..

To be continued

Kristian:

An enormous guy with the weirdest skin came into the room. He was so large, he had to duck to get under the door frame and had to step sideways so his shoulders could get through the opening.

He had no hair on his head and his skin looked like a melted wax candle.

Amy took a breath then asked the man. “Excuse me. Are you from the agency? The Model agency?”

The man’s voice was deep yet soft. “Yes, they told me you asked for something different. I must admit I was surprised when they said you wanted me to pose for students. I’m usually sent to horror movies to be an extra or jobs like that. Halloween is my busiest time of year.” He sounded sad about it but resigned to his fate.

Amy replied “Well, I did ask for someone who looked a bit different, not a conventional beauty. Can you stand on that platform and remain as still as you can.

The man removed all his clothes. It was clear that the melted skin was pretty much all over and not a hair grew out of it. Standing on the platform his head brushed the ceiling tiles.

Amy couldn’t resist asking him “Your skin, were you born like that or….” She couldn’t finish the question, but he answered anyway, it’s what most people asked him.

“No, I was a firefighter, at 9/11. I was caught in a fireball.” He could say it now, seventeen years later, without breaking down.

Amy turned to the class with tears in her eyes “Class, take out your pads and pencils, I want you to draw what you see.”

After twenty minutes, Amy began to walk around the class to look at what people were drawing. She couldn’t believe it that…..

Paula Light

…one of her students wasn’t drawing the model, but instead seemed to be sketching a scene out of Dante’s Inferno.

“Excuse me,” Amy whispered. “But we’re drawing the human form in this class.”

The young woman looked up, a frown ridged between her brown eyes. “I am drawing him,” she said. She went back to her work, her hand moving swiftly across the page.

Amy decided to move on. If a student didn’t want to learn, that wasn’t Amy’s problem. She got paid regardless. She stared down at a man’s drawing. “What’s that?” she blurted.

He looked up, clearly confused. “I… what? Do you have suggestions?”

“Draw the man!” she hissed. Amy was growing frustrated with these students. Why were they depicting hellscapes? She touched the man’s drawing to point out what was wrong and scorched her finger.

“It’s ruined,” he said. “Thanks a lot. You have charcoal on your hands.”

Amy glanced at her hands which were burnt, blistered, and sooty. “I’ll be right back!” She dashed out of the room and down to the health center.

“Good lord!” the receptionist said. “What happened to you?”

Singledust

“I don’t know” Amy is clueless but her raw, scalded fingertips seem to heal slowly but efficiently on its own. Under the glare of the fluorescent light, her skin takes on an almost unhealthy glow, blue from her veins seeping from under her skin, cooling the wound and healing it perfectly. The nurse takes a step back and steadies herself against the gurney.

“Your hand looks alright now; I think you should go back to your class” the nurse steps away from Amy and hurries towards the far side of the room, like she needed to put space between them really quickly.

Amy stands up straight and without another word, just a nod to the nurse, leaves the room and heads back to her class.

Amy glances at the paintings along the hallway wall, they are amazing works of art that should be displayed in galleries and art museums not in a college corridor, she thinks to herself. Who are these students? Why was that nurse behaving so strangely towards her? How did her fingertips heal so quickly? Maybe she never burned them at all, just imagined it?

Amy reaches the class and turns the door knob and enters, the class is still busy at work, like her leaving was not even noticed, almost as if they had a pre-determined assignment before she arrived that morning.

The model is still sitting at the front of the class and looking wistfully out the window. At her desk next to the model is a lady in a cerulean blue dress, she has the darkest hair Amy has ever seen and the lightest blue eyes almost the colour of a spring sky. She smiles as Amy enters and gestures with her hand.

“Welcome Amy, I apologise for not being here to introduce you to your class, these are highly gifted and prized students” she has a soft voice and Amy has to strain to hear her words. “You come highly recommended and we hope you will fit in here and with our plans. We have serious work to do here” the lady in blue continues.

Amy has just noticed there are bars on the windows with locks on the outside; she feels a chill in the sunlit north facing room.

“Come…” lady in blue beckons her closer……..

Sascha Darlington

Amy squeezes her eyes closed, wondering if she’s dreaming this sequence. Wasn’t this the same class she attended? Funny, she didn’t remember the bars on the windows nor the sulfurous smell that seems to hang in the air. Was she a prized student? Perhaps not. Perhaps she was just a conduit. Strange that that word should come to mind.

The lady in blue smiles a Mona Lisa smile that never reaches her eyes, which blaze blue like the hottest fire and yet are so very cold. “Do not overthink, Amy. I can see the wheels turning in your mind. You won’t find the answers. They were hidden when you were here. You were not one of the gifted ones. Not like these students,” she says as her hand sweeps over the group.

“I don’t understand.”

The lady in blue nods. She thrusts her hand outwards, erasing the classroom scene. Now it’s as if they are part of Dante’s Inferno, with screaming wretches and fire licking upwards. The screams are nightmarish. This is hell, Amy thinks. Am I in hell?

Amy shudders and thinks back to that night, that awful night…


(My contribution: )

That dark night when nothing felt right.

Her future as an artist was at stake. All because of one subject – The Human Form. She had been doing well on all the other subjects. However, her abysmal grades at this accursed subject threatened to cause her failure. Amy felt the need to take her edge off, and so had turned to her trusted bottle of whiskey.

A bottle down, she had begun contemplating a solution. Her intoxicated mind raced with many ideas ranging from threatening her professor, to seducing the top student in class to get his assignments. Finally, an idea had struck her. She had run off to her bookshelf and fetched an old black book. She had opened it, and turned to the chapter she was interested in: ‘Making A Deal With The Devil”…


Now, I nominate the talented Ramya Tantry to continue the tale…

I hope she accepts! 🙂

Flash Fiction: Border Crossing

Sivak was tense. However, he knew he could not let it show in his body language. Everything depended on it.

Sivak joined the line of cars waiting to clear the security check. The border crossing was one of the most tightly guarded areas. Sivak knew getting through the check post was not going to be easy. However, if he got through here, Sivak knew he was a free bird. The line of vehicles which had nothing to declare was much longer than the other line. Sivak would play it cool. He knew that the guards only stopped and searched people who looked suspicious and Sivak had taken great efforts to look plain. He had got rid of his immaculate beard, cut his hair and had combed them back. The addition of glasses gave his face a plain look. He had chosen to wear a loose shirt, that would hide his toned body, and more importantly hide his tattoos. He did not want any guard to give him a second look. As the car in front of Sivak cleared the security, he calmly drove up to the gate. The head guard gave him a bored glance.

‘Papers?’

Sivak reached into the glove compartment and fished out his forged papers. He handed them to the guard with a slight smile. The guard went through the papers, gave Sivak another bored look, and waved him along. The gate opened to let Sivak pass. He thanked the guard and carefully drove on. This was exhilarating for Sivak, he had done it.

As soon as Sivak cleared the gate, he heard a siren ring. The guards quickly pointed their guns at Sivak’s car. A sneering man appeared in front of the car, pistol pointed at Sivak.

‘Sir, kindly get out of the car with your hands behind your back. We need to check your car.’

Sivak recognized him. He was the Captain of the Royal Guard. Sivak considered the idea of accelerating, but he realised there was no way his car would take such heavy fire. Sivak parked his car as ordered, and got out. The Captain made him stand alongside the other suspicious characters. Sivak felt his heart shatter as the guards searched his car. Soon, they reached the trunk, opened it, and removed the bag of money that lay inside.

The Captain sneered at Sivak.

‘Well, well, well! What do we have here, now?’

* * *

‘When is Daddy coming back?’

‘Tomorrow darling.’

‘You said that yesterday.’

‘I know.’

‘Mama, Daddy will save us from here, no? I don’t want to stay in this house!’

‘I know, little one. Daddy will be back soon.’

Sivak..please come soon..


Word Count: 443

Prompts:

September Flash Fiction Draw

Your Daily Word Prompt – Alongside – September 8th, 2018

Image Writing Prompt #289

FOWC with Fandango “Royal”

RDP Saturday – Bird

Word of the Day Challenge “Exhilarating”

 

Image Credit: https://pin.it/qs6btx3s3ajmou

Flash Fiction: Apartment Complex

I stood at the entrance gate of the apartment complex.

It was huge. I counted at least a hundred identical apartments. Gareth whistled and turned to me.

“Whoa! This is massive. I never knew societies could be like this.”

I smiled.

“So Mr. Gareth, does this suit your taste? Do you like it?”

“Well..it’s sort of nice. Which apartment do we get?”

I indicated with my index finger. I am sure Gareth could not tell which one it was.

“Apartment 1601.”

Gareth coughed.

“That’s a bit too high.”

I could not have Gareth backing out now.

“Come on. Identical houses, packed together, nice remote area. You know it is brilliant.”

“It is a fireman’s nightmare.”

I smiled.

“And an arsonist’s dream.”

Gareth smiled back.

“Okay, i’m in. You get the kerosene…”


Word Count: 131

Prompts:

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2018 WEEK #36

Flash Fiction: Art

Harry was having a field day at the art house. There was an exhibition of rare renaissance art put up by a famous collector. Harry enjoyed renaissance art. He was an esthete and considered himself quite well read on the matter.

He had spent the entire morning at the exhibition marveling at the collection put together. He wanted to congratulate the collector, but he had not been able to get the opportunity. Mr. Bonucci had been quite busy with phone calls. But, getting a meeting with him was not much of a concern with Harry. Harry was well connected. A meeting with Mr. Bonucci was only a phone call away….

 

Continue reading here


Art was originally published on redpaper.in

 

Would love to hear your thoughts and feedback on the short story..

Happy reading! 🙂

 

Image Credit – Karin Jurick ~ “Catching a Train”

Flash Fiction: Rescue

“Okay, are you sure about this? I know the act needs to be realistic, but using real fire is bound to be dangerous. I am not so sure.”

Dale clicked his tongue.

“See Karen, you are quite safe. The fire will be lit around you, at a safe distance. You won’t even feel the heat.”

Karen rolled her eyes, and continued studying the receipt.

img_6599

“I seriously doubt that. Okay, I get what the diesel is for. What is the point of the coke?”

“Ah! Good question. In order to simulate the force of a water hose, we will shake the cans and spray the coke on the fire. That will extinguish the flames.

Karen raised an eyebrow.

“Umm..okay. And what is the mint for?”

Dale coughed.

“When the heroic fireman, that’s me, rescues the damsel in distress, that’s you, she shows him her appreciation. I wanted it to taste fresh.”

Karen let out at an exasperated scream.

“Okay, that’s it! Manager! I quit. There is no way I am going to be a part of this play.”


Word Count: 172

Prompt:

Fractured Faith Flash Fiction Challenge 3

Four Year Anniversary!!

Whoa!! It’s been four years since I created my blog! 😀 😀

I am re-posting the very first story I wrote on my blog. Since it was my first story, it’s really special to me. Back then, it was read by very few people. I hope it can get more reads this time! 🙂

Dear readers, as always would love to hear your thoughts on the story! ( It was my very first attempt. Pardon the writing!)

Happy reading! 🙂


Bloodlust:

(Word Count: 387)

Bitter. Was the thought that crossed her mind when she had finished tasting blood for the first time. She had always wondered how her kind had grown to like it. Up until very recently , she had been a vegetarian. Never had she tasted any thing that had come from an animal , living or dead. But now she was trying blood for the first time and becoming what her kind were best known for. She was finally becoming a part of her family. She had seen and learnt from observing her friends and family members that having blood was a real risky thing to do. The repercussions of being caught were severe. Agreed , the abilities of her kind allowed for a quick escape even if spotted but the chances of being killed in the process were always high. However, she still began to learn her kind’s blood religion.

As the days passed by, slowly and steadily, she quite grew to enjoy the flow of the warm liquid in her mouth. The taste of blood gave her satisfaction and much more. Now that she was to become a mother, her family made her drink  a much larger volume of blood. She had grown into a sort of expert. She had great eyes and could pick the least dangerous target out. But even though she was good, her bloodlust was driving her to take loads of risks.

One lonely night , she had searched long and hard for a prey but couldn’t find a soul in the otherwise crowded city. Finally, with her bloodlust reaching it’s peaks, she made her way to the city park next to the murky lake. As luck would have it, she spotted a man who was in his late sixties sitting alone on a park bench- an easy prey. Shrouded by the cover of night, she made her way stealthily towards the man from behind him with her eyes on his exposed neck. But, luck as we know is like a wheel, it turns. The moment when she was about to make her move the man turned and stared right into her eyes. Dispassionately he swung his hands back and brought them together with a clap. And that was it. She met with a sticky end.

After all, the life of a mosquito is pretty short.

 

(Image Credit – https://medium.com/the-establishment/the-dirty-bloody-messy-politics-of-menstruation-3aae8eae5e44)

Flash Fiction: Disturbance

This is the Seventh part of this story!

Read the prequels here:

Part 1- Twittering Tales: Statues

Part 2- Flash Fiction: Nice Neighborhood

Part 3- Twittering Tale: Raindrops

Part 4- Flash Fiction: Briefing

Part 5- Flash Fiction: The Hunt Begins

Part 6- Flash Fiction: Target Sighted

Silence.

I enjoy it so much. No humans talking to each other, or on their phones. No honking, no blaring music, no bickering, no nothing. Just the sound of the running water, the humming of the breeze, and the chirping of birds around me. This is how I want to spend my days. Sitting alone alone in my stone garden, with not a soul around to cause any disturbance to my peace. My human statues provide all the company I would ever need. This is bliss. I never….!

Hey! Where did that gunshot come from? It narrowly missed me.

Ah..Perseus! You have come again, and now you have lost the element of surprise as well. You should have made that bullet count, my old nemesis!

(Find the sequel here: Flash Fiction: Ready)


Word Count: 125

Prompt:

FFfAW Challenge #177

Flash Fiction: Jump

Phew! I have worked in skyscrapers all my life, but one never quite gets used to the view they present. The small orbs of light, the moving glowing lights, buildings bathed in mild luminescence and the overall dazzling appearance of the city. It ever presents a sight to behold. And I am not one to ignore beauty, even though I may be admiring it from the ledge of a terrace.

Light shines all the more brightly, the denser the darkness, and it is one dark night. Not a star, nor the moon in sight. The night only emulates these truly dark times. Wars, commercial competition, and the ever increasing poverty gap, all helping to make this world all the more black. Sometimes, I feel that there is no hope for humanity and that we are walking towards an eternal night. Even though it presents a lovely sight, the cold truth is that the brighter the city appears, the darker the night it is. Our lives are just like this view I see before me. They can be dark, cold and pitch black. But, that just means we have an opportunity to make them shine all the more brighter. Hope is that ray of light that pierces through the black storm clouds, the despairs in our lives, the endearing sorrows. But, keeping hope for the future, my future, humanity’s future is no simple task. It takes courage.

It is courage that I have always sought, courage to push on when things seem bleak. In these times, liquid courage has helped me more than once. It keeps me going, the feel of the liquid slowly passing through my lips, lending its bitter smoothness to my tongue, caressing it as it passes into my cold, parched throat, warming it, before making its way into my hollow body, giving it a much needed stimulation. It kicks my mind into working conditions and I find the intrepidity that I require. Tonight, I find myself in need of a strong dose of liquid courage, and sure enough it is there with me right in my hand. It lies in its glass prison, waiting to be let out and bolster my courage.

The breeze is particularly pleasant tonight. I like how it teases my face as I stand on this ledge. It is a nice, deep plunge. Not a day has gone by in these last few weeks that I have not thought of this plunge. It would be an easy way out of the miseries this life holds. Maybe, death is the only true escape. This final gulp will leave only an empty bottle, the potent liquid having finally escaped from its black prison. How I long to be like this liquid. It is time now. I have to do it. I’ve wasted many a nights getting to this point. I cannot turn back now. I have to take the jump and jump I will, falling into the deep abyss I see below, the wind lashing at my body. I have to be the golden ray of light that will pierce through the dark.

J.A.R.V.I.S. , any time now.


Word Count: 522

Image Credit – Apoorva Gharpure