Category: Sunday Photo Fiction

Beware of the old men in suits

Train Station

Photo Credit: C.E. Ayr

The old man in the executive suit holding a black briefcase in his right hand, impatiently examined his watch every 30 seconds. From the looks, it was evident he was waiting for his train. Late running trains were unfamiliar to him.

Within seconds two trains passed fast in opposing directions in the adjacent rail tracks. Not his.

“I would be fired today for the lateness!” He told as if to someone, but none indeed heard him as his voice sank in the trains’.

“Martha and kids would be waiting! I can’t be late!“Martha and kids would be waiting! The stranger smirked.

He sat in a vacant chair, cross-legged, his briefcase kept on his right side.

Moments later he smiled recollecting how he and his brother used to catch fish by diving in the deep waters near his childhood home. He was always better than his brother.

When the next train came, he was still demonstrating his skills, made a jump into the water.

A couple of days later a family in search of their missing schizophrenic father received his body.

___________________

180 words

{Sunday Photo Fiction}

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Paper Boats in the Monsoon

Subramanya Bhat

Photo Credit Subramanya Bhat (Photo for SPF)

A delayed child, who never spoke, giggles to herself.
Everyone except me thinks she is defective. None in that big, rich family cared.
Somehow she knew I appreciated her. She hugs my gifts and giggles.

I visited her last monsoon. She was playing with paper boats in puddles of water. She appeared angelic.

A fallen coconut, her port. Boats named in an unknown script. Suddenly she spoke a peculiar language fluently.
The signs were good enough, she was an angel.
She hugged the pink sweater gift and giggled.

A month later saw her lifeless body wearing that pink sweater.

________________________

99 words

{Sunday Photo Fiction – February 10, 2019}

{February 7: Flash Fiction Challenge}

Dragons

SPF 10-07-18 CE AYR 4Photo Credit: C.E. Ayr

Every day I despise,
The diverse dragons in disguise.
Those with a fake smile.
The ones who offer a false style.


Every day I despise,
The diverse dragons in disguise.
Every so often they appear as,
Chilling fears or milling tears.
Off and on they appear as, 
Burying worries or worrying hurries.

Every day I despise,
The diverse dragons in disguise.
Now I have made a will,
To bring all the dragons to kill.

___________________

{Sunday Photo Fiction – February 3, 2019}

My Granny’s Patio

spf 11-18-18 joy pixley 2Photo Credit: Joy Pixley

A long patio covered with garlic vines where my granny rested in a rocking chair is one of my strongest childhood memories.

I had constantly wondered why my granny selected those vines to decorate our patio of all the flowering climbers. She had told it was because of the lovely purple blooms, as blue shaded flowers were the rarest. I had believed that for quite some time.

As I grew up, I realized those plants resembled my granny in a way. She cherished me so much. She was the family I was closest to. She maintained the serene look befitting an angel and was an epitome of love. It was shocking to know she had beaten up her long-estranged husband, who left her for another when he tried taking away my little aunt.

I know why she had been growing garlic vines. It was a reminder.
Garlic vines are one of the most rewarding plants when left alone. They did emit the intolerably pungent garlic smell only when crushed.

_______________________________________________

169 words

{Sunday Photo Fiction – January 27, 2019}

The Genes

img_2072Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding

I enjoyed the way my three-year-old girl, Disha, pointed her chubby fingers towards a painting placed in her pre-school. I have asked her which picture she liked the most.

It was a picture of a girl presenting a flower to a pooh bear.
“That’s an excellent picture!” I congratulated her selection.

She surprised me by pointing to another picture saying,“ No like, no like!”
I asked her why.

“The cow is eating flowers, Mama! No like!!”
My eyes scrutinized the painting. It was a donkey.

I knew correcting my kid was useless, as she thinks she created and named almost all animals and birds. Still, I tried, “That’s a donkey, not a cow, Disha! Look at its head.”

She swayed her head negatively.
A memory struck me.

My five-year-old self who believed all the eggs in our farm was laid by our bunny and the hens were the enemies who came to peck them. None of my family could convince me otherwise, for a long time.

I laughed at the way the genes work.

__________________

174 words

{Sunday Photo Fiction-January 20, 2019}

In Search of Organic

spf january 6 2019 ce ayr

Photo Credit: CE Ayr

The bone-creaking old man was desperate. His noisy joints and spindly legs were limiting his movements. 

“Only broth can save you,” assured his trusted healer. “But mind you, the lambs must be completely grass-fed, organically grown!”

The old, but rich man set out with his dearest companion to purchase as many lambs he could get from the sheepfold on the outskirts, which guaranteed to provide organic cattle.

The direction board helped him reach his destination.
He paid no attention to the huge waste bins at the entrance

Just before fixing the deal, a garbage picking van made an appearance at the gateHis gut instincts made him limp towards the entrance. 

Huge trash cans filled with numerous bottles and covers of the hormone drugged feed were being collected by the van driver.

Money can’t buy health!” Muttered the old man while getting into his SUV.

_____________

145 words

{Sunday Photo Fiction – January 6, 2019}

Nasty Dreams

SPF 10-14-18Joy Pixley 3Photo Credit: Joy Pixley

I remember I was trudging. Was that a real place? I was cursing someone for putting me through that sea of cacti. The ones I have never seen or imagined.

Cacti, whose long spines tried to pierce my bosom and my spine to make sure I don’t escape alive. No spot to rest but walk, as if on a moving roller coaster. Some spineless cacti had disgusting round holes. That made me wish for long, cruel claws to crush everything. 

I could behold the mountains at a distance, but no, I can’t make it for that sea was uncrossable. I felt like falling into a bottomless pit.

With a jolt, everything resolved. 
dream so vivid during a siesta is quite maddening.

{Written for SPF}

Word Count: 122