Walking away

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

                                                                     Image courtesy of Unsplash.

 

 

Walking away

Sophia looked at the retreating back of her lover and thought, how rigid his stance was-just like him.

Long after he had disappeared into the sandy horizon, she continued sitting there, looking at the Sunset over the dunes and reflected on love and life.

Their love life had been like these undulating dunes-ever changing and harsh on the travellers-him and her.

Her love for him was all encompassing, like the sea, carrying away all that was negative between them like flotsam. At times tidal waves of passion pulled at her heart and at others silent storms raged within. Just like the sea, her moods could change with deceptive ease but it was always he who caused those changes.

His love was beautiful but cold like the moon. No, she decided, it was more like the desert. She travelled through his heart, scorched and dying of thirst. Her life felt bleached of all colours and the oasis of love that she was looking for turned out to be only a mirage.

And finally, today after years of yearning and longing, it had all come to naught. He had walked away, unable to bear the burden of her love. What had he said? Oh, that he was not meant to be a family man- that love was not for him. The world beckoned and he had to leave.

She smiled ruefully, wiping at the tears that threatened to spill over. Well, she thought, time to tame the beast called love that had chained her heart for so many years- time she set herself free too.

She toyed with the sand, holding it in her fist and letting it fall free. She realized that while some grains fell off smoothly, a few still remained stuck to her fingers .She mused that painful memories were just like a fistful of sand –while one could let go of some easily, others would require more effort and time.

With that she smiled, stood up and started walking towards a new beginning…

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This was written for  Write on Edge using either the photo prompt above or the quote,”If you must speak ill of another, do not speak it, write it in the sand near the water’s edge.”~Napoleon Hill. I decided to go with the photo.Word count  337,including the title.For more details on the challenge,please click on this link-http://writeonedge.com/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Writing Prompt: 2014, Week 6

Post Valentine

FRIDAY FICTIONEERS

Time again to have some fun at FF where our wonderful host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields manages to attract more than 100 writers from all over the world every week. These talented writers respond to a photo prompt and come up with 100 or so words of fiction or poetry.This week the photo below is provided by Janet Webb.

Copyright - Janet Webb

                                             Copyright – Janet Webb

This cool photo immediately stirred dark,murderous ideas in my wicked brain but strangely,my story decided to go its own way.So here it comes-101 words including the title :-)By the way,my heartfelt thanks to all those who came by to read my submission last week and my apologies if I haven’t been around to read their’s or respond with a thanks. Have been a little busy as my daughter’s 18th Birthday is coming up this Saturday and I have been running around trying to get the invitations out and shopping and stuff.However,I promise to read  this week’s submission without fail by next Monday.

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Post Valentine

Hi Camellia! How was Valentine’s Day?

Oh Kara, don’t even ask!

Why what happened?

I think I need some strong coffee first.

The aroma of fresh coffee perked them up.

Well Kara, I was shocked to see that Kevin had ordered red wine. Eww! You know how I hate red wine!”

Awful!

And imagine, there were no chocolates or flowers!

OMG! Such a cheapskate! Did he give a gift?

My portrait painted by him! So ugly!

Bah! Kick him out of your life.

Oh, I already did.

Fantastic! His loss sweetie! Let’s go shopping.

Let’s! I need retail therapy.

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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.

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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: http://www.yeahwrite.me/speakeasy/147-open/ 

                 

<a href=”http://www.yeahwrite.me/speakeasy/147-open/”><img src=”http://www.yeahwrite.me/speakeasy/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/speakeasy2.png”></a&gt;

Questioning heart

Open Link Night ~ Week 131

 

Questioning heart

 

Tell me my love

When you ripped my heart open

And I bled tears

Did it bathe your wounds?

Or heal your scars?

When you painted my soul

with the black ink of betrayal

did a rainbow appear

in the mirror of your soul?

Please, sweetheart,

Do tell me

when you pierced my self esteem

with shrapnel of indifference

Did your lips taste sweetness?

or did your heart skip a beat?

Did you perchance feel a thrill

when you shattered my fragile anima

with your harsh silence?

Tell me my love

Did the keening of my lonely soul

turn into lullaby 

When you laid yourself down to sleep?

Pray, tell me

Did you feel victorious?

With every promise you broke

And with each lie you uttered

Did you settle some score?

I so want to know,

Did it make you happy

To erase the memories I thought we made?

Or was it just a cake walk

To never give, but just take?

When I begged for scraps

Did it give you a high?

 Or did peace dawn on you

When you heard me sigh?

Wonder if it ever bothered you darling

the mind games you played?

Leading me on with your worldly wise ways?

Kindly answer, for I do need to know

Why does my heart still ache without you

and life seems hollow?

 

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The above poem was written for DVerse.To learn more and participate,please click on the link http://dversepoets.com/2014/02/04/open-link-night-week-131/

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Trapped

Trifecta: Week 111

This week’s one-word prompt.
 

MANIPULATE (transitive verb)

See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.Csr5i3fe.dpuf

Here are my 332 words:-)

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Trapped

 It was two in the morning when he entered the hospital. An accident victim was being wheeled in. He took advantage of the melee and was soon on the 4th floor.

 His first pit stop, he thought and chuckled inwardly at his own wit.

Locating the men’s room, he got to work. Soon he was dressed in a Doctor’s coat with the signature stethoscope around his neck. Looking at himself in the mirror, he smiled. Now on to room number 610-his next pit stop.

No one was around in the corridor. Cautiously he opened the door to the room. In the dim light, Jen’s golden hair was visible on the pillow, though her back was turned towards him.

Taking the gloves from his right pocket and the ampoule and syringe from the other, he injected the same poison that had brought Jen here, into her IV bottle.

It was all her fault.

Granted they had been in love and that he had promised to marry her but then his Boss had died. The Boss’s daughter Clara had inherited his million dollar business. Clara had always had a sweet spot for him but her pug face and flat body made her easy to resist, till now.

He was a charmer. Thus, it was a cake walk for him to manipulate his schedule in the office such that he and Clara kept dashing into each other. Inevitably, sparks flew-from Clara’s end at least. She wanted him-for keeps.

But he could not manipulate Jen. She threw a fit and threatened to sue him for fraud.

Feeling trapped, he poisoned her coffee yesterday evening. Then he heard that she had survived but was unconscious. Thus this nightly visit to finish the job before Jen could spill the beans.

Ah, final pit stop-home. He smiled.

 He turned to leave and froze.

Cops!!

A voice boomed, “Raise your hands Stuart Pinto. You are under arrest for the attempted murder of Jen Brooks.”

Behind him, he heard Jen snigger…

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The reluctant warrior

Write at the Merge

Writing Prompt: Week 2

The Low-Down:

  • 500 word limit
  • linky is open until Thursday, January 16, at 11:55pm Pacific
  • Use the quote as an opening/closing line, draw inspiration from it, or choose the photo instead.
  • Use the photo, or stick with the quote.
  • Use both if you are so inclined!
  • Please read at least the link on either side of yours (last linker? read the first one)
  • Please comment where you read. If you are comfortable giving constructive criticism, feel free. If not, tell the writer something about the experience of reading their piece. This community’s goals are to support, nurture, and challenge our writers.

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“The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.”
~ L. P. Hartley: The Go-Between (1953)

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

                                           Image courtesy of Unsplash.

This is my first time writing for “Write at the merge”.I chose the photo above for my story.Hope the story is enjoyable.(500 words including the title).

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The reluctant warrior

 

“Be careful Jovian. This is your last chance.”

That had been his Commander cautioning him as he left their pod.

Jovian stepped up to the edge of the forest.

Nothing moved.

It was eerily quiet.

Yet, he could feel eyes watching him.

When he looked down he could see nothing except a serpentine grey rope like thing stretching endlessly between the clump of blackened trees and dead bushes.

Jovian’s job was to travel through time and conquer new territories and colonize them. This was his 5th such assignment and if he failed again, he would be vaporized.

He hated being a time warrior. His dream was to be a trooper of love but he had materialized in the warrior unit and thus had no say. His Commander was good and had tried to shield his birth defect from enquiring eyes but now it was do or vaporize…

Morosely, he stepped forward and immediately found his feet ensnared in the grey vine and before he could react, he was hanging by his feet.

Jovian opened his eyes and met the most beautiful violet blue eyes. His green eyes saw a girl with ivory skin and a pair of blue gossamer wings, crinkling up her nose at him. In spite of his captivity, Jovian had to laugh.

She was just a girl and he was a warrior-even if not a successful one! Did she think she could hold him up here?

With a twist of his arms, he freed himself and stood next to the girl.

The girl seemed unperturbed. She gestured for him to follow her and took to the air.

Intrigued, Jovian followed her into the forest.

After about an hour’s walk, they reached a waterfall.

The girl alighted beside him and led him into the cool, refreshing water. Jovian stepped in with trepidation and was taken aback by what he saw beyond.

A whole Universe of amazing beings-some magical, others beautiful, many  looked beastly, some  seemed ugly, a lot were tiny while others were giants but all co-existed peacefully and looked happy. No one wanted to hurt anyone, no one seemed irritated or angry.

“My name is Aara”, the girl said in a voice dipped with honey.

Aara and Jovian became inseparable and as days became weeks and weeks turned into months, Jovian easily adapted to the new life. He forgot about his mission, his roots and began living for love.

When Jovian proposed to Aara she just smiled and told him, “Wait. It is not time yet.”

Tonight Jovian woke up to find himself curled up in a ball, shivering all over.

 ”Aara!”, he called out.

He felt her flutter down beside him softly.

He stretched and felt something unfurl behind him.

He was mesmerized to see that he had grown a pair of silvery red wings.

“Welcome home, my love,” smiled Aara and time stood still.

Jovian finally understood why his heart had yearned to be a trooper of love. Love was his destiny.

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Lucky me!

Friday Fictioneers

It is that time of the week again when Rochelle Wisoff-Fields,our wonderful hostess at FF ,posts the picture prompt.The challenge is to write a 100 word flash ficion based on that picture.Now Rochelle herself sets the ball rolling with a fantastic spin herself.This in turn sends around 100 writers from all over the world,scurrying for their muse and their magic quills and the fun begins:-)What?You don’t believe me?Ok,head over to her site(http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/friday-fictioneers-2/)  and read for yourself.

Here is the picture prompt for this week by Jean L.Hays.

 

Copyright- Jean L. Hays

Copyright- Jean L. Hays

 

Am off to spin my tale.This week sadly am not going to be able to read any of the entries because tomorrow am travelling to my home town for a 3 day reunion bash with my (school) class mates and will be having no access to net(no time too) till I return on the 26th,So wishing all my friends,readers and followers at FF a very  cheerful and happy festive season,God bless you all:-)

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Lucky me!

A renowned marine biologist.

 She was 30, successful, surrounded by people but lonely.

A struggling artist.

He was 22, a high school dropout with no money, yet happy.

A chance meeting at a stained glass exhibition led to love.

Mismatched, some said.

Odd couple said others.

When they decided to tie the knot, few gave their marriage more than six months.

I was one of the few.

Today, 35 years later, my wife Millie and me, look at the stained Glass door and smile.

It was my first job and it gave me more than I had ever dreamt of.

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(102 words including the title)

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Forever…always

Trifextra: Week Ninety-Seven

It is Friday and thus time for Trifextra:-)

This weekend we are being asked to add thirty of our own words to the following three words for a total of thirty-three. 

myopic
dazzle  
basin
 
 
Here are my 33 🙂
 
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Forever…always

 

Your honeyed lies dazzle me. Am too myopic to see the veil of deception. The sword of reality cuts deep. I bleed tears. You leave. The acid of betrayal spills, turning the basin red.

 
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In the eyes of the beholder

Trifecta: Week 106

This week Trifecta tossed a difficult one at us(at least it was for me).This is the word prompt for this week’s writing challenge-

This week we wanted to do something to mark the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah, and we foolishly thought that would be easy.  There are so many amazing Yiddish words that found their way into the English language, and we thought it would be great to highlight one.  To find one with a third definition, however, was not so easy.  We thought all was lost until we stumbled upon this gem.

tush

1. a long pointed tooth; especially : a horse’s canine

2. an interjection used to express disdain or reproach

3. buttocks (slang)

 
Happy Hanukkah to our Jewish friends.  Now let’s all write our tushes off.

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. 

 
 
Easier said than done!I sat on my tush for  the last 2 days wracking my brains but to no avail.Then last night,a seed sprouted and  today it started taking some shape and here are my 331 words.Hope you all like it:-)
 
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In the eyes of the beholder

 

Life is so unfair Mabel thought and frowned, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She turned this way and that, pulling her black dress. But whichever way she pulled, the reflected image looked the same. She hated how her body looked now- even-nah make that –specially- her tush!

Her eyes caught a movement and she turned to see her husband-her adorable Geoffrey- watching her with an amused look on his face.

 “Anymore of that and I won’t be responsible for the consequences,”he winked and smiled naughtily.

Mabel pouted.”Don’t joke Geoff! Look at me! Am looking so terrible! How can I go to the event looking so frumpy?”

Geoffrey guffawed. “Now who is joking? You and frumpy? That would be the day!”

Mabel looked ready to cry.

Geoffrey came to stand behind her, his arms around her still slim waist. Looking at her in the mirror, he whispered, “My love, you still look as ravishing and hot as you did a decade back. Sometimes I cannot believe that ten years have passed.”

In spite of herself, Mabel had to smile. Geoffrey was so good to her. Not only was he a great person, a wonderful husband and a fine provider but also an amazing Dad to their five year old twins. She was very, very lucky to have him in her life.

Geoffrey walked to the open wardrobe, and to her astonishment took out a slinky red dress, matched it with red stilettos and brought them over to her. His eyes twinkled when he said “Don this, my she-devil and watch the men falling over you!”

She had to smile, her mood lifting.

“Now are you going to stand and stare while I change?” she remarked, raising one eyebrow.

Pulling her close, he unzipped her black dress and drawled, “Would you rather I do something? “ He teased.

She laughed delightedly, pushing him away, “Yes, but not now-after the party.”

“Is that a promise?”

She nodded.

Smiling, they hugged each other.

 

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Retribution

Its time to submit my piece for Friday Fictioneers. Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is the wonderful host for this site and every Friday ,around 100 fellow bloggers submit their 100 word stories based on the photo prompt of that week.

THE CHALLENGE:

Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. (No one will be ostracized for going a few words over the count.)

Copyright - Ted Strutz

                                            Copyright – Ted Strutz

Here are my 101 words(including the title).

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Retribution

 

She watched them board the ferry.

The bitch with him was pregnant and he looked happy.

Her face darkened.

He had said he was going to be with his dying mother.

The lying bastard!

Well, she was going to see to it that someone died!

 

At the busy hospital, no one noticed the mousey intern.

On Thanksgiving Day, the woman delivered a baby boy.

That night, the intern offered to work extra hours in the neo-natal ward.

It was the last time anyone saw her or the baby.

Next morning, the woman was found strangled to death-in her hospital bed.

 

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