Perfect smiles

He polished them himself till they shone like pearls in their velvet beds.

Not even his assistant was allowed to touch them.

He loved when people smiled.

The next door shop assistant had been flashing her perfect smile at him for weeks.

So last weekend he happened to meet her and had taken her home.

This Monday, he sat at his table polishing his new acquisition and hummed.

His collection of perfect smiles was growing.

He smiled at the 24 sets of pearly white teeth displayed in the glass cabinet.

No one ever suspected.

Being an Orthodontist rocked.

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This is my first submission for Velvet Verbosity #379.The challenge is to write a 100 word fiction/poetry  using the word prompt. The prompt at Velvet Verbosity this week is “Collection.” For more details on rules of participation or to read what other writers have submitted for this challenge,hop over to visit http://www.velvetverbosity.com/100-words/

Guilty pleasure

Friday Fictioneers

Its Thursday here but Friday at FF where our lovely hostess Rochelle Wisoff Fields, has set shop again with an interesting photo prompt.This week the photo prompt is by Erin Leary,thank you Erin .As my  regular readers know,writers from all over the world gather at FF,every Friday, to spin a tale based on this prompt in about 100 words, give or take a few.For more details and rules click on the url http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/friday-fictioneers-2/

My 97 words follow the photo prompt below.

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Copyright – Erin Leary

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Dusk fell.

Perkins waited near the foggy path.

His wife was away.

Timing had to be perfect.

He wondered if she would come.

He was dying to taste her…

A shadowy figure appeared.

It was her and she held a small bundle.

His greedy mind conjured up ripe images.

He imagined his teeth sinking into tender skin.

Reaching him, she thrust the bundle at him, “God forgive me! This is insane!”

Perkins grabbed it and ripped off the skin.

Blood dribbled down his chin.

Nothing like a juicy steak! High cholesterol be damned!

“Thanks Sis!”

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The Painting

“Until the day I die, I’ll never forget those glassy, unblinking eyes,” said Jose’ and shuddered.

“Come on Junior, it’s been almost six months and its time you put that behind you, “commented Juan wryly.

“I know Pa but  I just can’t shake that image from my mind. It was as if he was accusing me of betraying him!”Jose stared at the fire burning in the grate, his eyes full of an unknown fear.

Juan came over and put his arm over Jose’s shoulders and squeezed lightly-a rare gesture of affection from this seemingly unemotional man. José understood and on an impulse hugged his father.

Looking a bit embarrassed by this show of emotion, Juan quickly strode towards the table where the blueprint of a floor plan was spread out.

“I know you do not like bloodshed and this was your first time. Possibly this is the reason why you feel the weight on your conscience. Our times were different. By the time I was your age, I had already dumped half a dozen bodies into the sea. Your Gramps, as you know, formed this gang when he was just 19 and he has killed more men than he can remember. It’s our family business son.”

“Yes Pa and look where it sent poor Pedro even if he was a bad ‘un.” grumbled Jose.”Then there is cousin Moe doing time and cousins Alberto and Francesco are missing since the past ten months .If all the males in the family keep falling prey to this business, where will our women and children go?”

“Juan and I have been discussing this for the past few months. Drug dealing is losing its sheen. There is too much competition among the cartels and not enough to go around. The cost of shipment and the blood money that we have to shell out is neither satisfactory nor desirable. On the other hand, the Policia has become more active and is not so easily bribed. The need of the hour is a change of business,” said Carlos.

José looked at his Grandpa in astonishment.

“You mean a new business Gramps? What else can we do?”He asked excitedly.

“Hold on to your horses’ young lad”! His Grandpa chuckled. “Yes, we have decided to branch out .Our clients are high end consumers. They may be private collectors who love the risk involved in acquiring something which nobody else owns. Then again, they may be just interested in the exorbitant money that would exchange hands if such a deal went through.”

Jose whistled.

“Wow!”

“We thought you would like it. The risks are high but the returns are sweet-sweeter than anything we could have ever imagined,” said Juan with a smile.

“There is more good news. We have already been commissioned for one such deal. Juan continued, “The job is to “spirit away” a painting by Albrecht Dürer from Casa Guidi, in Florence. Here is the replica of the painting which you have to use as replacement. You are in charge of this mission José. Juan will help you.”

José came forward to have a look at the panting and almost screamed. Somehow he steeled himself to look at the replica. “Those eyes remind me of Pedro’s glassy stare after I throttled him-ugh! Who would want to own such a creepy piece of art?” He mused.

Next Friday night Juan and José were at their destination. The four uncooperative guards had been dispatched -temporarily. The last one was inside the surveillance room. Juan stood guard while Jose entered the museum.

Shining his torch on the painting José shivered. The light fell directly on those eyes. He was sure he was being watched. He shook his head. His imagination was playing tricks. Suddenly he heard a familiar voice from behind, “Hello José! I have been waiting for you. Did you miss me?” Shocked to hear Pedro’s voice, José turned to look back, only to feel icy hands grabbing him and pulling him up.

After waiting for 30 minutes, Juan sneaked in to the surveillance room where the unsuspecting guard was put to sleep. Strangely, he could not find any trace of José in the museum. Puzzled and worried, he decided to have a look at the CCTV footage. What he saw was so eerie that he fled……

Next day there was a big brouhaha at the museum. Experts scratched their heads in bafflement at Albrecht Durer‘s painting where a new blurry figure had made its appearance.

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This is my response to Speakeasy’s weekly prompt #162 which required us to (a)write a response(fiction or poetry) in 750 words or less (mine is 748, including the title) (b) using the following sentence as the first line in your submission: “Until the day I die, I’ll never forget those glassy, unblinking eyes .” and (c) make some reference to the media prompt,which this week is a painting  by Albrecht Dürer  . For more details and rules,please click on the url below-

http://www.yeahwrite.me/speakeasy/fiction-challenge-162-open/

 

Nowhere to go

A tiny mouth suckles at her dry breast, defiantly trying to cling on to life. Two pairs of small hands tug at her tattered sari, faces streaked with dirt, tears and hunger pangs. Wings clipped, she only gazes listlessly at the sky.

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Ginger

Friday Fictioneers

I am late-very late-again! The jamboree at FF with our awesome hostess Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, took off  5 days back .Over 100 writers joined the fun and submitted their 100 word stories in response to the weekly photo prompt.The photo prompt below was provided by none other than my very talented friend Bjorn Rudberg. Thanks Bjorn for really stumping me  for two days and then with the mercury climbing  higher,I almost “melted” 🙂 Finally,today the weather  being slightly better,I decided to post the story.My 100 words follow the photo prompt below.

For participating or reading other entries in this writing challenge,click on the url http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/friday-fictioneers-2/

 

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Copyright – Björn Rudberg

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Ginger

Ginger’s orange coat shimmered as she climbed the wall.

 A loud burst of music startled her.

The neighbours were at it again-what did they call it? Jam session!

It was not that she did not like music but they needed to take lessons from her boyfriend.

Ah, when Tom serenades her even his friends can’t resist joining-the flirtatious rogues!

She did not socialize readily but tonight the delicious smell wafting over warranted a visit.

Nobody noticed her as she made her way to the dining table till someone cried out, “What a cute cat!”

Meow! So much for dinner…

 

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Winter’s child

 

“Winter seemed reluctant to release its hold.”As Eve stood shivering on the bathroom mat, looking at the red streak snaking down her legs, the chill rose up to freeze her from within and outside. She fought the tears tottering on the slippery threshold of her consciousness, wondering why this was happening to her.

 
She had followed the Doctor’s orders and she and George had seen to it that they did not miss the days marked on the calendar. It had not been easy but neither of them had demurred. Yet, it seemed that the seed she desperately hoped would bloom refused to take root. Her womb continued to be barren, month after month. At times, she wondered if God was punishing her for something that had in no way been her fault.

 
Shoulders drooping, she dragged herself back to bed. George stirred but then snuggled back under the warm covers. Sleep evaded her though she tried her best to court it. Ruefully she let it slip away and resigned herself to a few more hours of “mind-hoopla” as she called it. Her mind flitted from thoughts to memories to thoughts in a never ending loop.

 
She was born into a wealthy family but her parents were too busy playing to the gallery to really care. The children were just trophies to be exhibited on certain occasions. Her elder brother Josh was a carbon copy of their Dad and idolized him. Their younger sister was a wallflower, with no opinion of her own and content to live as directed. Eve, on the other hand was a rebel.

 
Thus she was happy to leave home for college at nineteen. There she met Matt. He was a pleasant change from all the people she used to meet in her pseudo life at home. Both felt an instant attraction, which over the next two years developed into deep love.

 

Eve knew her parent’s reaction to her choice and so she hid it from them till the day Matt joined the hospital as a full time Doctor.
Matt promised to take her to meet his parents during Thanksgiving. They both wanted a Christmas wedding.

 
The meeting however never took place, nor did the wedding. Driving to work next week, Matt met with an accident and he died on the spot.

 
Eve was beyond herself with grief and went home for the first time in four years. She was sick so often that it took her some time to realize that she was pregnant. She was shocked at first but then overjoyed .However, her joy was short-lived for her family did not approve of her having a baby out of wedlock.

 
She could still remember the conversation word to word.

 

Her Mom had looked at her with utmost distaste as if she was something the cat dragged in “Why must you insist on bringing shame to the family name?”

 
“After all that we have done for you is this how you repay us?” shouted her Dad, his swarthy face turning purple.

 
Not to be left behind, her ineffacious brother declared, “We can’t let you have his bastard.”

 
Her sister of course had nothing to say.

 
Eve decided not to bow to their pressure tactic but she had underestimated her parent’s guile and wickedness. One night, they drugged her and spirited her away to a private nursing home. When she came to, it was already too late. As soon as she could walk, she left home and never looked back.

 

 
Even George believed she was an orphan and she had no intention of revealing these dark secrets to him, ever.

 
She sighed and decided to get up as dawn crawled in slowly. She put the kettle on and watched snow drifting down relentlessly. The sky looked dull, just like her mood. She called her Doctor around noon from her office-she did not want George to be privy to this setback-at least not today. Her Doctor told her to come in the next day.

 
Next morning Eve woke up and was taken aback. She had not bled at all during the night-what was going on? Was she ill?

 
With trepidation she walked into the clinic. The shadow of uncertainty loomed large as she lay down on the examination table.

 
A few hours later, she was driving back, a smile on her lips. The miracle of spring was accumulating in her womb and she could not wait to celebrate its arrival with her beloved George.

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This is my response to Speakeasy’s weekly prompt #157 which required us to (a)write a response(fiction or poetry) in 750 words or less (mine is 748, including the title) (b) using the following sentence as the FIRST line in your submission: “Winter seemed reluctant to release its hold.” and (c) make some reference to the media prompt,which this week the  drawing above, by Leonardo da Vinci, entitled Study of a Womb.

The challenge is open to everyone,so if you want to join in or read the other entries,please click on the url http://www.yeahwrite.me/speakeasy/fiction-challenge-157-open/

 


Do you see her much?

Do  you see her much?

 

Oh, all the time, all the time! 

Oh, I see her everywhere.

Why, oh why won’t she let me be?

When all is over between her and me?

I did her in and buried her

Then, why won’t she just lie still?

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This is my response to this week’s ultimate question at Gargleblaster #157. The challenge was to answer the ultimate question “Do you see her much?” in exactly 42 words. If you are interested in joining the fun,rush over to the site  for complete details by clicking on the url http://yeahwrite.me/gargleblaster-157/ but hurry for the grid closes at 42 entries.