Flash Fiction: The Angry Beaver

“This looks like a shady place. Why did you even get us here?”

Donna looked tastelessly at the shallow bowls on our tables. I smiled.

“Trust me. The chef makes up for the ambience.”

The Angry Beaver was really quite shady. The low lighting, minimal decoration and serious lack of clientele, created a very drab ambience. I pressed the buzzer and whispered to Donna.

“Listen, show some sensitivity.”

The chef came out from the kitchen. Donna began guffawing.

“Ah, the chef dresses up as a beaver!”

The chef turned red with anger.


What do you mean by dresses up, eh…?

Word Count: 100


100 Word Wednesday Week 81

Word of the Day Challenge “Sensitivity”

FOWC with Fandango “Shallow


This was a rather random and weird one! XD

Do let me know how you find it in the comments!

Happy reading! 🙂



Flash Fiction: The Game

Dr. Villain rubbed his hands in glee.

“Now Agent Sammy, you have to face me. You will have to defeat me if you want to recover the stolen antique.”

Sammy narrowed his eyes at his wise and wily nemesis.

“Very well, Dr. Villain. We shall duel.”

Dr. Villain laughed loudly.

“It all comes down to this game of death. Whether your antique is melted by my heat ray, or whether you take it back, all of it depends on this game.”

Sammy looked at the game set by his nemesis. He could see a red O drawn. Dr. Villain had started the game well. Sweat dripped from Sammy’s brow as he considered his options. He drew a large X right next to the O. Dr. Evil was savoring the pressure Sammy was under.

Finally, after a few minutes of the intense game, Dr. Evil began cackling.

“You lose, Agent Sammy.”

Before Sammy could reply, both of them heard a loud sound.

“Boys! Dinner is ready.”


Dad ruffled little Sammy’s hair.

“Next time, kiddo.”

Word Count: 173


FFFAW Challenge #175

Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge July 24, 2018

FOWC with Fandango “Wise”

Word of the Day Challenge “Anti-“


Image credit: Yarnspinnerr

Twittering Tale: Statues

Cadet Billy looked at his pocketbook.

“Sir, this makes 5.”

Agent Keynes stared grimly at the headless statue.

“Inevitable. She escaped from prison last week. Chaos had to follow.”

He called HQ.

“Code red. Medusa is on the loose. We need Special Agent Perseus to come in.”

(Read more about Medusa)

Character Count: 268


Twittering Tale #94


Find part 2 here- Flash Fiction: Nice Neighborhood

Twittering Tale: Beach

It was a nice sunny day.
The entire community had come to enjoy at the beach. Kids, adults, and senior citizens, frolicked on the beautiful white sand. An abrupt commotion coming from the water interrupted the merrymaking. All the water had swiftly receded.

A disaster approached.

Character Count: 280

Written for Twittering Tales #92

Flash Fiction: Sky of Hearts

Mommy, why do we this, send all our heart balloons into the sky at the same time every year?

Little one, this is our tradition of finding soul mates: if two balloons meet and pop together, that means the two people have been chosen for each other by Father Sky and then they are to spend their lives together; just like I met your father.

But mommy, what if my balloon pops with another girl’s balloon, or if it pops along with multiple balloons, or if it pops alone in the air; what does that mean?

Word Count: 96

Written for Three Line Tales Week 125

Flash Fiction: Lunch

I was a regular at Sam’s Pub. I had been visiting it every day for the past decade, for lunch. Sam had been my best buddy since the good old days. Our allegiance kept me coming back for the same old grilled burger, every single day.

Today was no different. I was sitting in my usual spot, enjoying the beer and burger. Sam was at the bar, refilling the glass of the only other customer in the bar, a young brunette by the name of Wanda. She was nice lass, hard-working and extremely amiable. She raised her glass in toast and smiled at me. I toasted back and took a long sip from the glass. I had hardly bit into my burger, when the door of the pub swung open with great force, crashing into the wall. Sam looked indifferent, but I knew he was bugged. A tall well-built man stormed into the pub. Wanda looked terrified. He growled at her.

“Finally, found you, time to go.”

He grabbed her by the wrist, ignoring her protest. He brandished a knife and waved it at Sam and me.

I sighed and stood up.

The punk was going down, special ops style.

Word Count: 200


Sunday Photo Fiction June 23, 2018

FOWC with Fandango “Allegiance”

#SoCS June 23, 2018

Daily Addictions Word for the Day “Indifferent”


Flash Fiction: Next Vacation

“It has to be a beach.”

She had placed her hands on her hips. He knew this was her ‘I-am-not-going-to-budge’ stance. However, in his twenty years with her, he had learnt that this was the only chance he had to argue. Once her hands went behind her back, it was game set and match. The whole squabble would be over, at least for her. He decided to take his chances.

“But, weren’t we going trekking?”

“Last time’s road trip was your call.”


“Venice was your call, Sweetie.”


“Well, it is my birthday.”

He sighed. Her hands were behind her back.

Word Count: 100


100WW Week 76

Friday Fictioneers June 22

Word of the Day Challenge “Squabble”


Image Credits:  Ocean Art “Drift Away” by Chuck Pinson-3731-GW

FFAW: The Fan

I had never thought this was a good idea. Testing urban legends was foolishness. Chester and Robin, my closest friends, convinced me otherwise.

We met outside the abandoned warehouse at midnight, checked our flashlights and double-checked our resolves. This was supposed to be the warehouse of horrors. The story had started when a bunch of homeless people had gone exploring it. Only one of them made it out. He spread the tale. Since, the bodies were never found; the adults brushed the tale away as the ramblings of a mad man. However, it became a popular story among us kids. We stepped inside and shone our lights around. All we could see was the fan. It was huge. However, for some reason it looked lonely. It wanted us to join it, become friends with us. We saw three ropes lying right below the fan, inviting us.

I looked at Chester and Robin, and smiled. We were going to join the fan, and together we would stay.



This was written in response to FFfAW Challenge-165th

Thank you, Yarnspinnerr for the prompt!! 🙂

The Song

What a lovely song it was. It never failed to get my fingers snapping and feet tapping. The song was pretty old. Although it was performed first in 1948, I was only introduced to it once I had turned into a young adult a good decade after the song came out. I remember I had heard it for the very first time at the old pub in my hometown. I was sinking down a glass of jack when I heard the melodious voice for the very first time. Some soul with a brilliant taste in music had selected this song on that jukebox. I did not know who he was, but after the song was over, I mentally thanked him. Those were divine five minutes spent with the glass of jack in my hand, and the song on my mind.

The singer of the song sounded so sad. He told us about how he went through great hardships in life : How he lost his parents at a young age, how he was bullied on the streets, how he sang begging for alms. It was a sad song, yes. However, the part that actually hooked me on to the song was the ending. The singer managed to survive through all the hardships and made it in life. It was a happy ending for him. I really enjoyed a good end to every song. As I sat with an empty glass, the barkeeper asked me for a refill. I accepted it. While he refilled my glass, I asked him the name of the song. He told me. Never forgot the name thereafter.  I moseyed to the jukebox, put a coin in and replayed the song. It was a very well spent evening.

Over the years, the song soon became my favorite one. I danced with my soon-to-be-wife on that song on our dates. I got a live band to play it in the background when I popped the question to her. Sometimes I felt that I knew the song better than I knew my wife. Every beat, every tone, even the exact duration of the saxophone solo, I knew it all. I was always quite happy with myself for possessing such intricate knowledge about my favorite song. I passed on the love of the song to my son. He is a teenager now. He has his own brand of loud music he loves blasting on the speakers at home. However, all those times this slow, euphonious track played somewhere in between those other garish tracks, it gave me confidence. Confidence that we had brought up my son right. I have faith that he will keep the fondness I have for the song alive, and pass it on in the future.

Indeed, what a lovely song it was!

It always helps when there is a story to every aspect of you. This song, I never really heard it before they captured me and put me in this tenebrous cell. They keep playing it on loop, every five minutes without a pause. I hear the same thing every day and every night. The only respite from the music I get is when they enter the cell to continue their daily interrogation. I find it amusing to see their reactions when they find out that their music torture has still not broken me. The only way I have remained sane is by building stories about this song. A pub some time, my dad’s favorite song sometime, so many stories I have made up in my mind about why I love this song. I really do not have a choice. I have to continue adoring this song. The moment I start hating it, is the moment they will get to me. This song will never get to me. They will never succeed.


Image Credit:


via Daily Prompt: Song