No foul play


 the speakeasy at yeah write #151

No foul play

“Life had once been defined by linears and absolutes.”

Gerry stopped writing and shut his diary with force. Anger and sorrow struggled with each other to gain foothold. Sorrow won. He missed her. If only…

He went and stood by the window. Night had decided to wear her star spangled coat and was busy romancing the full moon. He closed the window. Such beauty pained him.

His mind went back to the time when all was orderly, or so it seemed. His Dad was a soldier and was home only on short holidays. He was a good father and a dutiful husband but nothing more. His mother on the other hand, was an artist with a passionate temperament, which she kept well hidden under routine. He was an ordinary boy living an ordinary life.

Then one day, when he was fourteen, it all changed. His Dad came back from Afghanistan sans his right leg. Wallowing in self –pity, his Dad took to the bottle. His mom tried her best to take care of the family by taking up odd jobs but it was not enough. She had been a beautiful woman, but her face stated to lose its glow with the constant worry. Soon, his father started becoming abusive. Initially it was only verbal but then it escalated into physical blows.

Life dragged on, with no respite for the family. The only silver lining on the black cloud called “crisis” was Gerry’s excellent grades at school.

One night, when Gerry was sixteen, he found his mom in the basement painting the walls furiously. He was astonished to see the vibrant colours and bold strokes that she used. He watched silently, as she added a cobalt blue and then contrasted it with a flaming orange. Later he convinced her to let the artist in her take charge.

She surprised everyone by excelling in her chosen field and very soon, many art galleries were showing interest in her work. She had her first independent show, when Gerry turned eighteen. Soon after, he left for college on a full scholarship. Life seemed to have steadied itself.

At college, he made friends and enjoyed studying. He received letters from his Mom which told him about her shows and he was happy that she was tasting success. He was unable to visit home for the next two years as there were some extra courses he had opted for which needed him to stay back during the breaks. So, when he went home, he was a little puzzled to see his mom looking radiant but a little flustered, as if she had a secret.

Two days before he was due to return, he learnt of his mom’s secret. She told him that she had met Bud, another artist-a sculptor- six months back and they had fallen in love. However, as his mom was not free there was no future for them. Gerry was happy for his mom and expressed his wish to meet Bud. A meeting was arranged and he was pleased with his mom’s choice. However, his Dad posed a problem. He was not ready to let his wife go and said”no” to divorce. His drinking and violent behaviour took a turn for the worst. Bidding her a fond farewell, Gerry promised his mom to be back during Christmas to find a solution.

But that was not to be. Six weeks to Christmas, he received news about his Mom’s death and had to rush home. Police officers said that they had found his mother lying with her neck broken at the end of the stairs leading to the basement. Possibly she had slipped .They ruled out any foul play as his Dad was found dead drunk, on the sofa in the hallway. Gerry had his reasons to believe otherwise.

A few days after the funeral, Gerry plied his Dad with drink after drink. He kept egging him on and implying that he was glad his mom was no more. Still, his blood froze when he heard his Dad confess.

“Ah, I hated that bitch! Pushing her that day felt damned good. No one leaves me!!”His Dad growled in a slurred voice.

A week later, Gerry slipped back into the house, unnoticed, and pushed his drunken Dad down the stairs. He was satisfied to hear the squelching sound his Dad’s head made when it struck the corner of the marble slab at the bottom.

Police ruled out any foul play, again.



This was written for the Speakeasy weekly writing prompt, the speakeasy at yeah write #151 ,which is to write a piece in 750 words or less (mine is 748 words,including the title) (a) using “Life had once been defined by linears and absolutes.” as the first sentence,and (b) include some sort of reference to the photograph posted above, taken by Czintos Ödön.If you are interested in reading all the entries or joining the challenge please click on this url-




At the stroke of midnight

 For the speakeasy at yeah write #147

At the stroke of midnight

“There was a time when things were different. When I was young…”

 Amused laughter and snatches of conversation filtered through the living room into the kitchen where Christina stood at the sink washing the dishes. She was used to such sessions of group study at her house. Gary, her husband was a renowned Professor at the university.

She finished washing the dishes and started dinner. The students would be leaving any minute and she did not want to be caught on the wrong foot.

Few minutes later, she heard the door close and tensed. Gary strode into the kitchen.

“What’s cooking? Smells  good.” His arms went around her waist and he started nuzzling her neck.

“Its pot roast”, she replied, trying to put a smile in her voice.

His fingers were already busy undoing the buttons of her blouse.

“The food will get burnt, “she protested mildly but to no avail.

Gary took her on the kitchen floor, while she clenched her teeth to stop herself from crying out. She knew he was watching her. Any sign of discomfort or pain would just egg him on. Sex was not for pleasure but something he used against her, to inflict pain and humiliate her.

She could smell the food burning and involuntarily her eyes moved towards the stove. That was enough to tilt the scales. Gary shoved her away with such suddenness that she banged her head hard against the worktable and she cried out.

“You flat chested cold fish! Not even the best plastic surgeon in the world can help you.” He jeered.

With that, he left the kitchen and shut himself up in his den.

Christina knew better than to call his bluff. She was a size D and very attractive. She had been very popular all through college and even now, at parties, men sought her out.

Looking back on her three years of marriage she wondered how she had not seen through Gary’s veneer of decency. She had ruminated on this many times but each time she concluded that she had had no way to gauge it. Gary had played his cards very smartly.

 In their six months of courtship, he had always been gentle, courteous and attentive to her every need. He was well established, had his own house, and was respected in the community. No one would ever believe that the same man could behave in such a manner.

She too had not-the first time it happened. They had been married two weeks and had returned after seeing a movie. As she was taking off her jewelry, Gary grabbed her roughly, tore her dress off her back and had his way with her. She was left bruised; a little shocked but she was still very much in love and thought this just added another shade to their colourful life.

She couldn’t have been more wrong!

She remembered how one afternoon he had returned home and started dragging her to the bedroom. When she protested, he growled, ”Why not? Am not good enough for you, eh? Or is there someone else giving you what you are refusing me?” He had then beaten her leaving her numb with shock and pain.

Another night, in one of their intimate moments, he had suddenly slapped her and said, “You Bitch! Do you think I don’t know? Fantasizing about your dream lover, aren’t you?”

The pattern continued without any respite. Initially she tried to get him to go for counselling but was laughed at and punished severely.

Christine knew no one would believe her. She had no one to turn to-Gary had made sure of that.

Deciding enough was enough, she started her quest for freedom. She used different internet cafes in the neighbouring town, every time she went online. No use leaving tell tale signs.

New Year’s Eve.

Christine, beautiful in her off shoulder floor length burgundy gown .The full sleeves, gathered at the wrist looked divine. Her French knot looked regal.

She watched Gary enjoying himself. Oh, how he loved being the cynosure of all eyes! Well, it would be the last time he did, she mused.

At the stroke of midnight, the lights dimmed and everyone rushed to hug and wish each other. In a flash, Christine stabbed Gary with her poison tipped stiletto knife, and moved away.

There was an investigation but the Police never found the weapon or the motive for Gary’s murder.

Best thing? She was never suspected.



This is written for The Speakeasy at Yeah Write. The weekly writing challenge with a sentence and image writing prompt for up to 750 words. This week the sentence, “There was a time when things were different,” must be used as the beginning of the story. This week’s prompt can be found here: 


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The Tryst

Trifecta: Week Ninety-Six


The weekly prompt from Trifecta this week is

ANIMAL (noun)

3  :  a human being considered chiefly as physical or nonrational; also :  this nature 

This week the challenge is community judged and as always ,our response has to be between 33 and 333 words.Here is what the “animal” in me could came up with.Enjoy:-)



The Tryst


She shivered, fear gnawing at her innards with icy claws. Lack of sleep and trying to be constantly vigilant had taken its toll.

She shuddered as the door creaked open. The shadow loomed like an advancing demon, before his actual body came to stand at the doorway, blocking the light. She cringed, trying to disappear into nothingness.

He entered the room shutting the door. Immediately darkness slithered around, cloaking them both in a loving hug. She choked at the thought of what was coming next.

She could feel him moving around. How he could see in the pitch darkness was beyond her-not that she cared!

She knew that soon the cover of darkness would be gone but she was never sure which she hated more -this inky blackness with all her senses on red alert  or the  dazzling brightness which made her nerves go berserk.

He seemed satisfied and now she heard him move to the light switch. She heard the scrape of the chair being pulled and knew he was sitting down-making himself comfortable for the show-the Bastard, she fumed! He switched the flood lights on and she felt shame, disgust, self-loathing, mortification, hatred and all kinds of putrid thoughts rushing to engulf her!

Here she was, naked on the bed, gagged and bound while he sat there clicking pictures and recording her from every angle for hours together. He never spoke, came near or touched her but devoured her with his eyes, which ,somehow was more demeaning, more degrading! How could she have loved this man-an animal!!

She wished for the thousandth time, that she had not been taken in by his charming smile-not been duped by his animal magnetism, failing to see the animal within lurking behind those grey green eyes!

It had been a week! Her only hope of ever getting out of this hell hole was the note that she had left on her office desk before leaving with him, voluntarily- for a supposed love tryst!






A matter of routine

Trifecta: Week Sixty-Five

After letting us have some fun with Hyperbole ,this week Trifecta has decided to let us exhaust ourselves;-)


this week’s one-word prompt:

EXHAUST (transitive verb)
1a : to consume entirely : use up <exhausted our funds in a week>
  b : to tire extremely or completely <exhausted by overwork>
  c : to deprive of a valuable quality or constituent <exhaust a photographic developer>
2a : to draw off or let out completely
  b : to empty by drawing off the contents; specifically : to create a vacuum in
3a : to consider or discuss (a subject) thoroughly or completely  

Please remember:
  • Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
  • You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
  • The word itself needs to be included in your response.
  • You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above. 
  • Only one entry per writer.
  • Trifecta is open to everyone.  Please join us.                  



So,after spending some time trying to exhaust all ideas,I fell back on my exhausted brain to churn up something & here is what it  produced  😛


A matter of  routine


Everything was spick & span-just as Paul liked & expected.Stella looked at herself in the mirror & smiled.Her new hairstyle suited her .Her heart fluttered-in a mix of anticipation,fear & hope.


She trembled thinking of what may happen if she failed.Bracing herself ,she shook her head,as if that would clear the cobwebs of panic that tried to cling to her  fragile self confidence.But,she told herself,she would not let these thoughts exhaust her.This time she was ready.


She heard a taxi stop & then the door opened.It was time for it to all begin-or end..


“What the hell is going on here?I leave for two days & you go get yourself  made up to look like a harlot?” Paul hurled abuses at her & Stella could see his fists curling up.She knew what was coming & cringed.

Within minutes,she felt his fist smashing into her face & blood poured out of her nose.She fell to the floor,The sight of blood delighted Paul & he rained a few more punches & kicks on her prone form.Stella did not utter a word.


She heard him pouring a drink & switching on the TV.She slowly dragged herself to her feet & stumbled to the bathroom.After cleaning herslf up,she went to  check  on the dinner & started setting the table.


She heard him get up & run the bath.She held her breath.Soon,the door closed & she could hear him humming-everything was always a routine for him-any discrepancy with his orderly world meant punishment for Stella.


An hour later she was on the phone calling up the Police.Her husband was not opening the bathroom door & neither answering her,she  sobbed.


The Police broke open the door-to find her husband,lying dead on the floor.His drink had spilled on to the floor & the almost empty bottle of whisky stood nearby.It seemed that  in his drunken stupor he had failed to realize that the Geyser had a leakage &  he had died of electric shock.

Poor Paul….