Prose

This story was written to a competitive prompt on #ArtoonsInn for the #Navarasa competition.  Prompt – Your protagonist travels to a new country for the first time. What emotion takes over their life? I chose disgust’ as an emotion.  ————————————————————————————————————————-   Change is hard. But relocation – that’s harder, because …

This story was written to a prompt on #ArtoonsInn –  #artalelegends5 The prompt – your MC has lived an uninteresting life. But, for the past month their life has changed dramatically. They have been invited to serve on the jury in a high profile trial involving two famous personalities. The …

  Gone… There is finality, absolutism in the word that cannot be denied. A child leaving the nest leaves a mother bereft. The feeling of nothingness that lingers is hard to overcome, isn’t it? It shadows you. What is left in the wake of the departure is a lifetime of …

Lama understood the youngster’s angst.  ‘Sepoy,’ he reasoned, ‘God knows that it’s not who fired the shot but who paid for the bullet that is to be blamed. This isn’t your burden. It’s the Brigadier General’s. Open fire!’ Lama’s words found their mark.

The day I turned 45, it hit me that my middle-age was characterized by middle-class mediocrity. Was this going to be the blueprint of my boring life? Or, did I still have time to try out new things and make memories to reflect upon in my old age?

When I look at her, I see not the imperfections heaped on her by society or the blemishes that rabid gossip has left. I only see the beauty bestowed by God. That is my aphrodisiac. I tack that vision to the fabric of my love and stitch it up tightly in my heart.

At the end of the Edwardian Era in England two things happened. One, the women’s suffrage movement gained momentum and two, Manfred Müller’s father, after two false starts, finally kicked the bucket bequeathing all his worldly possessions to his son.

I hardly slept, marinating as I was in the putrid odours of burnt sauce and meat.

“Shit! This is the worst possible time to take a break,” I cursed under my breath as my thoughts homed in on the new client pitch in the coming week. “The timing is all f***** up,” I muttered as I mentally ran over the salient points that I wanted to pitch. My forehead furrowed. I arched my back to relieve the tightness. My neck felt stiff and I rolled my shoulders to work the suddenly sore muscles. But, that only brought momentary relief as always.

I was chomping into a leg of Chicken leg when... A murder! It was a murder! My blood curdled at the sight. I tell you, the chicken that I was eating could not have squawked louder than I did at that point. They noticed.