Five sentence fiction: Anchor

"Nasir, what's that floating along the shore?" Myra shouted, her voice carrying along the barren beach.

Collecting garbage off the coast and selling it off to help their amma had become like a routine for them.

A huge crash of the waves brought the object of their fancy closer to the shore.

They ran towards it,  excitement in their veins, giggling like kids on a treasure hunt not knowing it indeed was a treasure of sorts.

In the evening news, it was known, two children discovered an old smuggled anchor made of gold on the beachfront.

****

Mum and I always had each other's backs.

While she was the anchor that held our little family together, Pa was the one who drifted away.

I never looked back and thought about why he left, the way he did.

Maybe he was free spirited.

Maybe he couldn't be bound by chains.

****

He lies at the bottom of the ocean now, her beloved.

As an anchor would plunge in the sea, did he sink, never to return. 

Too painful a memory.

What a lucky escape,  people said to her.

How could the gurgling and choking noises in her sleep she evade?

****

I never can seem to decide what I want to post for Five sentence fiction prompt.

Which attempt do you like best?

Innocence: Five sentence Fiction

The baby's laughter filled the air, sounds of innocence.

Unkown to her surrounding, dumped she was outside a garbage truck.

The sweeper had had a terrible morning, another fight with her in laws over her infertility.

Finding the little girl in the garbage bin had been shocking to say the least.

She bundled up the baby in her arms, maybe it was God's gift to her childless marriage.



This post has been written for Five sentence fiction prompt innocence

Vacation

Five sentence fiction Prompt: Vacation

 "I need a break from this life of monotony", she grumbled to herself.

A dutiful housewife, her life revolved around that of her husband's schedules of hectic travelling while she hopelessly waited for him.

"We shall go next month" he said carelessly, while packing his bag for a meeting abroad.

But they never did go anywhere, for his work kept him busy over the next two years.

Packing her bags silently, she crept out of the house, tickets in hand, a smile on her face.

Five sentence fiction: feathers

This post has been written for five sentence fiction with the prompt feathers. I couldn't decide on which post I wanted to post, so here's three pieces of fiction on the same.

***

Blood dripping from her paws.

Feathers scattered across the floor.

Bits of flesh stuck in her sharp teeth.

The magnificent golden cat lay in a corner, satisfied.

It was a mistake to have bought the lovebirds, she thought to herself.

***

"You've got to help me find her brother, I think I've found my soulmate. She was the one wearing the mask with pink feathers."

She was an enchantress, beautiful,  more than any word could describe, such was her grace and posture.

"Surely you do not mean the one with the green dress?" His friend inquired.

"Why yes I do, do you know her?"

"Even though you've found your soulmate in her, I'm afraid she already has hers in me," grinned his friend.

***

She had always excelled in school.

Her need for competition and thirst for being the number one made her a workaholic.

Yet somewhere she craved for friends, real friends.

She had numerous trophies on her desk she realized, not one memory of a friend though.

She wondered how could she have missed this feather on her cap.

***

Entrapment!

It was a trap.

She had set the table for two.

The perfect dinner, a perfect evening in store.

He would not know what hit him tonight.

Dressed in her best outfit.

Blood painted on her nails and lips.

Revenge at last.

She concealed the knife under her table, a mere hand away. Easy to grasp. Easy to kill.


Her sister would get peace through her deceitful love.

****

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

A dream that couldn't be

You stood in front of me. That handsome dazzling smile on your face. A look of pure bliss surrounding you. You looked so happy, content.

It wasn't for me though, I knew right away.

You looked my way, and I saw you go from happiness to disbelief in a matter of seconds. Almost like you didn't want me there. I had thought that I'd  surprise you, but I never thought that you'd be returning the favor.

**

She'd been so excited to meet me,me being your supposed friend. I felt insulted by the use of that term. I knew better than that. It had been less than a month,that the two of you had met.  Silently my eyes met yours. Your eyes held a pleading look, almost to say to me, not to reveal anything. Little by little my heart was breaking.

She kept gushing on as to how wonderful you are. How amazing it was to have met you. And I felt likewise. Even though I hadn't ever said it out loud to you. Neither did you. It wasn't ever necessary. Yet that day hearing her say those kind words about you, it felt like my heart was being squeezed inside my chest. Like something was suffocating me from within.

I helplessly looked on. Why did you look at me so? What were you trying to tell me?  I couldn't understand, I thought I did before. But now I wasn't too sure.

" It's happened so fast, I can't believe we're in love. "

This broke me out of my daze. Love? How could it be? I snapped my head towards you. 

You looked away. I couldn't stop the overwhelming feeling wash over me.

She held your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. You held it up and gently kissed it. I couldn't take it anymore. This nightmare like feeling. Like the whole world had stopped. Like I couldn't breathe at all. Gasping for air I stood up. And looked away. Anywhere but you. I squeezed my eyes shut, threatened by the tears that could spill over.

I Opened my eyes.

It was only then I realized, my tears being soaked by the soft fabric beneath my cheek. And I was gasping for air. 

It was only a dream!

I felt relieved, glad that it didn't happen. A dream that couldn't possibly be true.

But I knew better, a voice in my head whispered, " You and I could never be." And someday I know, this dream will come true.

Clouds

"Look! That one looks like a tree," Lilly giggled.

"That one is an octopus silly," grins Ben.

"How can you call a tree an octopus benny?" she wailed. "It is a tree! Look closer."

"How could I possibly go any closer to the clouds lilly? Besides You're silly lilly!" He stuck his tongue out to her.

She huffed and puffed away from there. Not wanting to show how hurt she felt.

Yes, childhood love it was. Still is.
And shall be, always.

**

Image: Google

The ugly wristlet

I remember when I was a little girl; I wouldn't ever be seen with a wristlet. I felt uncomfortable, even rather embarrassed at times to be seen with a dangling purse around my wrist.

Then one fine day, I was gifted one. I must admit, that on first receiving it, I wasn't too thrilled. In fact I thought to myself, another one of those gifts that's going to lie in my wardrobe forever, until I have to clear it away for lack of space to store other such things. It was quite the rage, in fashion those days and considered to be very trendy. And I thought to myself, how stupid does it look, how uncomfortable it must be and how unsophisticated it seemed? Me, being the always so cautious and always being prepared for anything kind of person, always kept everything in my hand bag. How could a wristlet possibly compensate for the lack of Storage space?

Oh well, one day, while heading out, the odd bright wristlet caught my eye. Not because it was something that I'd remembered, but only because I was just going out for a casual meeting with old friends, catching up. How tedious it seemed to carry my massive size bag, for something that was so casual? I randomly stuffed a few bills, my phone, a couple of cards and tissues in there, and I was good to go!

After my evening out, I realized I was so much more comfortable, as I didn't have a giant size bag, to be carried along all evening on my arms. I wouldn't attribute the feeling solely on the wristlet, as catching up with old friends really does wonders to oneself, but yet again it was a good night. After that evening, I found myself increasingly carrying the wristlet along to various places. To the extent that, other than the most necessary places that required me to carry a handbag, I always preferred the wristlet.

What was firstly termed as ugly, hideous and uncomfortable was now trendy, comfortable and good to go. I realized that, the wristlet had grown on me. I couldn't do without it anymore.

Like the wristlet, there are many things in life that we are quick to judge. We deem them to be objects of no importance to us, but slowly they grow on us and often become an inseparable part of our lives. Don't be so quick to judge things, the way they are, maybe your perception towards them is wrong, or maybe you are indeed right. But only time can tell that. I hope you haven't discarded any valuable things from your life in that manner?

Image taken from http://www.pastryshoescollection.com

The boy in the bookstore

Warning: This post contains silly teenage like drama. All out of sheer boredom!

What I'm about to write today is about an unsuspecting boy that I saw in the bookshop.

I don’t think he noticed me right there in the corner. There I stood on a lazy Sunday afternoon right in the middle of the dead section. By dead I mean the classics, due to the fact that these authors are long gone and secondly due to the fact that there's such less takers for the classics section of the bookstore. I'm often surprised at this.

Coming back to the boy at the bookstore, there I stood having an internal battle with myself to buy a book. Thomas Blake or Alfred Lord Tennyson? Well I could perhaps buy both, but then a mental image clicked in my head of the pile of unread books that has steadily increased in my room. Not due to lack of reading, but due to my habit of splurging an insane amount of money on books.

Now let me tell you here my bookshelf is so full that I need to literally squeeze my books in between the empty spaces (if I find any at all).
I promised myself just one book while leaving my house. I would keep it at that!

So anyway, I reached over for the top shelf and pulled out a book by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. For short people like me it can be quite the task! Which reminds me, perhaps I should I write a letter to the bookstore with my recommendations.

There he was coming towards me! My goodness he was a sight! Tall, well built and carrying a book in his hand! Wow. My ideal man I would say. 

Being fed on so many movies and novels where the hunky hero comes in to save the day, I expected my hunky hero to come and help me extract the book from the shelf.

But I'd already taken the book I wanted! Damn, there goes my chance to be rescued (not lliterally). I mentally kick myself. Stupid stupid girl! What were you thinking?

By that time I noticed he had passed by, looking at the next shelf.  Religious books were kept in that section.  Well they say don't judge a book by its cover, well I judge a person by the books he reads. 
There I stood trying to decipher the mystery of the man standing next to me.

Now let me make it clear here that I'm usually not so overly calculating in my head. Yes I'm a girl that over thinks a lot but not for strangers. Yet here I was thinking over a person who I didn't know at all. What was wrong with me?

I decided to distract myself back to my books. Contemplating which one I could buy. There I hear, "excuse me?"

I turn to look at the stranger, eyes wide. Did he perhaps notice my stare earlier?

I quickly looked his way, he wanted to get a book from the shelf, and I stood in his way.*sigh*

I was lost in my books for quite some time after. Perhaps twenty minutes had passed. I stood in the aisle reading poetry, while the stranger stood beside me, reading the book he had picked.

I peeked a sideways glance at him, before finally moving to the next section. Barely two minutes later, I could see the stranger browsing through the same books. Perhaps it was instincts that told me of his presence. I picked my book and moved to the payment counter. I plopped my books on the counter and stood waiting for my bill. From the corner of my eye I could see the boy stand near the exit of the bookstore. I found that to be rather weird. Maybe it was a whole silly coincidence. I shrugged it off once again.

Perhaps I'd been acting like a giddy teenager all along. As I stepped out the door, I heard someone clear their throat. "Hi, I'm Chintan," said the voice.
I looked up straight into the stranger's eyes, grinned and replied "Hi, pleased to meet you."

Perhaps I wasn't being silly after all.

Ps: I ended up buying four books in the end, resulting in a high that only a good paperback novel could induce.
Showcasing my books to any friend who dared to listen and making them feel that perhaps I've lost my marbles for good.

Looking for home

"Amma, come inside, you're going to get drenched" she cried.

Pulling her Amma by her arm, she dragged her in the shelter that they were using temporarily. Of course, it would not do if the rain continued to be so harsh. Why had the gods no mercy? Where would they go?

Pushing her thoughts aside, she started to collect the meager belongings scattered around. A few clothes, utensils and pots. Wrapping them in a bandni cloth that her grandmother had given to her. It had been her fifteenth. "Gayatri, this is for you, especially today, you are now a big girl. Take care of your Amma. From now on, I want you to keep this chunni against your chest. "

Gayatri had only known the message hidden under her grandmother's words a month later. She had passed away in her sleep. After her death, things had changed all of a sudden. Her grandmother was respected in her village. After her death, a few vile men had pushed them away from the village. To her utter horror she had learnt some harsh truths. Gayatri had been born out of wedlock. A fact that was kept from her all her life. The gossip mongers in the village had obliged her with a few details. It was only due to her grandma's shelter that the villagers had let the mother- daughter stay on. After her death, they seemed to have brought out their hatred out in the open.

Her Amma had been mentally ill for as long as she could remember. The reason for her illness was unknown to her. She had asked grandma on countless occasions. 
"Why does Amma behave so? What ails her? "
"Patience my child, give her patience. And love above all." She had replied.

And patience she had given to her. For seven long years. They had wandered in places, village to village.

***

A thunderous noise brought her out of her thoughts. Lightning and thunder had been pouring along with the water. The sky seemed blue and grey and black.  Much like her mood. Stormy, wild. A small shelter of white plastic, under a tree, borrowed from a nearby shop. Of course the shop owner didn't know.  She would return it while leaving this village. She always did.
It had begun to flood a little in the surrounding, Gayatri was getting worried. Her Amma was shivering. Her conditions had deteriorated in the past few months.

She needed a blanket, and quickly.  Gayatri felt scared, but she couldn't let it affect her. She had to think quickly.

"Amma, here, take my chunni. Stay inside. It'll keep you warm." Saying so she ran out in the rain.

Gayatri walked for a good ten minutes in the rain. Scouting around the village for a sign of somebody who could help her. She could have sneaked a blanket from anywhere, but she dared not get caught today. What would happen to Amma then?

Lost in her frenzied thoughts, she dashed into something, rather someone. It was a little boy, no older than fifteen.

"Hey, can't you watch where you're going?" Cried out the boy. "Now look, You've made me ruin my shirt. Maa will surely give me a good hearing," he grumbled scratching the mud off his shirt.

"Somil...where are you running off to. Come back here this instant." A small voice could be heard in the distance.The boy's eyes lit up, with a look that spoke of guilt.

Soon after, a girl appeared on the horizon. She looked tired, as if she had had a great run. Though she carried an umbrella, her Green dress was soaked in the rain. Gayatri thought her to be around two years younger than herself.

The girl came near the boy and twisted his ears.

"Aah" the boy yelled. "Forgive me. I swear I did not throw paint in your room. It must have been the servant."

"Somil, you can't escape this time. You've ruined my room. I won't let this go this time. I will tell papa today!"

"Please dear sister, have mercy on me. Am I not a good brother to you?  I promise to clean it up soon," wailed the boy. He was now rubbing his ears in pain. They had turned to be a rather dark shade of red.

As if suddenly realizing her presence, the girl looked her way. Gayatri was stunned to see her eyes. They were the exact same shade as hers. Light golden, like the shade of honey. She was staring into her eyes.

"Namaste, I'm Stuti. Are you new to the village? I haven't seen you around here before," said the girl.

"How do you know.." stuttered a bewildered Gayatri. How could the girl have known her? Would she turn her in? Had she been caught today?

"Oh come on inside first, you're going to shiver to death in that rain. Don't worry; I am not going to harm you." Stuti reassured her with a warm smile.

Looking at the apprehension on her face, the girl continued. "My father is the village chief. I often sit with him. I know most of the villagers. We don't have very many families here."

Gayatri finally spoke out, "I can't. My Amma, she needs my help. She's ill. She needs a blanket to keep her warm. "
The girl seemed to be lost in thought for a while. "Somil, go grab some food and blankets from home. We will be waiting here under the tree. Be quick." Stuti ordered the boy. "Come let us stand by the shade of the tree. Somil shan't be too long"

Gayatri hesitated for a bit, but finally gave in, for Amma's sake. Soon Somil had returned with the necessities. The three of them started back towards the shelter Gayatri had constructed. They hurried inside. Gayatri covered Amma in the blanket whilst Stuti lit a fire inside the shelter, to keep them warm. The rain had ceased for just a bit now. However the lanes were still partly flooded.

"We should take you back home," Stuti said. "Perhaps the rains may start again. It seems like this storm won't cease so easily."

"No I couldn't possibly take more help from you. You have helped me and my Amma already more than what we deserve. We shall be moving out of here tomorrow. How could we possibly repay you?" Cried out Gayatri.

"Don't worry about that, I will have thought that she's my mother that I've helped. I have done no such favor to you. I will stay for a while."

Amma had stopped shivering now. And Gayatri began preparing some warm food. Somil sat by Stuti talking to her in a hushed tone. Gayatri fed her Amma the dal and roti that she had prepared in the morning. On seeing the handicap, Stuti asked,"whats wrong with her? Where do you come from? "

"My Amma, Sudha, is her name, suffers from a mental disease.  We come from a village far from here. You may not know. "Gayatri replied. She was yet to trust the kind stranger.
Stuti asked further, "do you have no family at all then? "

Gayatri seemed taken aback by the direct question. Quietly she whispered, “no."
And no friends, do you have no friends at all? Stuti asked in a compassionate voice.
Again Gayatri replied, "No."

Stuti looked at her with a strange look upon her face. It was almost as if it was hard to believe her. She didn't speak any further though. Gayatri didn't talk further too. She was a woman of few words.

Somil was sulking in a corner, unaffected by the entire exchange. He had begun to grow restless. Stuti then stood up to leave. "You may keep the blankets. I shall return tomorrow “she said.

Gayatri quietly shook her head in response, and soon both brother sister had gone, leaving Gayatri behind with her thoughts once again.

It had stopped to rain too; it seemed the gods had finally had some mercy.

***

Later that night, Stuti sat with her father on the veranda stairs. As she recounted the day's events to her papa, she remembered the old woman and Gayatri. She told her father about the girl. How she had refused to take help from her.

She had admired the courageous girl, and her love and devotion towards her Amma. She planned to take her father to meet the two in the morning. Perhaps they could provide them with some permanent shelter in the village.

"What did you say are their names child?" asked her father.

"Sudha and her daughter Gayatri."

On hearing the names of the two women Stuti's father was stumped. He was lost momentarily in memories from a long time ago. Memories that involved his long lost brother, Sagar. Sagar had run away from home at a very young age, in pursuit of a young woman. He had never returned after.

It was rumored that the woman was with child. The woman's name was Sudha. They had run away together and a baby girl had been born. Torn by anger and hatred for his brother at that young age, he had never bothered to find out where he went afterwards.  But it was soon found out that, Sagar had died in a tragic accident. Leaving his young runaway companion and baby girl with nowhere to go.

He hated the very thought of the woman who had lured his brother away. A reality that had caused his family to never be the same again. His family was torn apart. Sagar was the older child. He was the one who took responsibility. The perfect son.

After Sagar had left, his parents had not been able to cope with the fact that their son had run away. Stuti’s father had tried his best all his life to please them, but to no avail. The news of Sagar’s death had left the family shattered even more so. Both Sudha and her child were held responsible for his fate. Their name was a taboo in the house. His parents were living a dead life.

Stuti’s father had decided that he would find the heir, that he would find Sagar’s child. Perhaps his parents would be happy with a little bit of Sagar. Over the next few years he had tried to find the whereabouts of the two, but they couldn't be found anywhere.

A couple of times he had been able to trace them, but had been too late in reaching to them. His family had been blissfully unaware of his search. The names of Sagar and Sudha were still a taboo. With those thoughts in mind he couldn't sleep that night.

The very next morning, Stuti and her father were seen going towards the outskirts of the village. The flooded streets made it all the more tedious. It seemed to take forever for him to reach his destination. Finally, in the distance he could see the hut like shelter that was constructed. He allowed Stuti to call out to Gayatri, but he could hear no reply.

Peeking inside the hut, he saw an old woman lying on the blanket. Curled up beside her was a young Gayatri. They both looked terrible.  He could understand why his daughter had wanted to help the two. They looked like they needed it a lot. Glancing around the hut he realized the miserable conditions that they lived in.

Stuti called out to Gayatri. Gayatri was slumped over her Amma's feet. Clasping them tight. To never let go. In a frightened stance.

She stirred up, her eyes looked puffy, tired. The warm honey eyes met his. The eyes of his brother, Sagar. 

An air of nostalgia hit him, memories invading each second that passed by. The last time he had seen him go.

He'd found them at last.

His brother’s eyes, his brother's child.

***