I was waiting in the old barn where we had spent our childhood plotting mischiefs. It had been twenty years!
But I knew she will come today. There was no where she would rather be and nothing could stop her now—Becoming ghost had its merits!
Tag: Fiction
Arranged
It was difficult to start a conversation while our families milled around us. We had only ten minutes to decide.
She took out her phone ‘replying an urgent text’. I received a message from an unknown number, “Let’s run away from them all!”
She was smiling!
Holiday Romance
I thought inviting my kids, and as a result my ex-wife, on a vacation with my fiancée would help in family bonding.
Now I babysit the kids while they are on their honeymoon.
Tiny Story: The Hairy Tale
For the record, he never asked me. And he was holding a sword when he cut my hair, tied them to the window and told me climb down. I couldn’t argue with him then. Would you?
I just got down the tower, still wobbly from the loss of half-my-bodyweight worth of hair, and am trying to walk straight on this uneven forest floor for the first time. And ‘what’s-his-name’ is already asking me to ride this… thing!
Never seen it before (living in a tower and all that) but it is…
Huge…
Walks on both its hands and legs…
Doesn’t even wear clothes! Only a lock of hair covers its backside! Gross!
The nutcase tells me I must pat the ‘Orse'(?) to make it comfortable. I say, “No! I am still recovering from the loss of hair. I am not ready to lose a limb yet.”
Moreover, mother will be home any second now. If I can stall long enough, ‘what’s-his-name-again’ can turn into a delicious roast…
Tiny Story: Heaven
In front of their old rundown family farmhouse
9-year old son (incredulously): This is your ‘heaven’?
Father (in a conspiratorial tone): Did you ever jump over a fence, climb a tree, bathe in the river, play in a cave or own a real tree house?
Son (grinning ear-to-ear): When are we moving in?
Tiny Story: The Visitors
Year 2115
A group of visiting monkeys peers inside the match-box sized houses.
Excited, a baby monkey cries out, “Look, Humans! Can I give them peanuts?” But his mother dissents and dishes out the standard ‘You mustn’t feed humans!’ lecture.
As usual, humans, glued to the widescreens (‘Game of Thrones season 104’ this time), stay blissfully unaware.
Tiny Story: The Dark Alley
Past midnight, in a dark alley…
I am being followed. Too scared to look back, I know it in my gut…
I should have waited for the other dancers to wrap up but there were too many creeps in the bar tonight, and I wanted to be out before they finished their drinks. Now, I have to pay.
Suddenly, my stomach feels empty. I am nauseas and cold sweat trickles down my spine.
“Do I run?
Do I turn back and confront?
Do I have my pepper spray?
No!
Isn’t there an all-night medical store round the next corner?”
Hope rises in my heart. May be, just may be…
Suddenly I hear the footsteps quicken behind me and I break into a run.
Tiny Story: Old
The old tree sat alone. He offered neither shade nor food anymore. Nobody cared to visit: birds nor squirrels.
When the storm uprooted him and his fruit-bearing progeny, nobody missed him nor mourned his loss.
Tiny Story: Cast Away
She was a torn garment, not worth mending.
After her husband crossed, his family cast her away to her old home.
Her parents cast her away to the backyard storeroom.
And now, the river had cast away her empty shell to the shore.
-Hindu widows, traditionally, give up all pleasures in life: good food, good clothes, music and human company. Often, they are dumped in widow homes and take up begging to survive. Not allowed to remarry, a lot of them choose to die instead.
Tiny Story: The Ring
She knew nothing about the man she had just married, as was usual in her community, and her stomach was in knots.
For the last ritual, the Pandit asked the couple to put their hands in the milkpot to find a gold ring. “Whoever finds it first rules forever”, he said smiling.
They both frantically searched for the ring until the groom’s fingers found hers inside the pot. Electric hummed between them and, quietly, he slipped the ring in her hand.
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 