The Invite

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Photo Credit: Sunday Photo Fiction

 

“To Mom and Dad…”

Harley started reading his sole son’s much-awaited letter.

The phone communications always ended abruptly on account of “urgent work”.

 “Martha, does our son love us anymore?

Harley’s voice sounded tired while calling out.

“I can’t even see a ‘dear’ expression in his note.

Martha beheld him silently. 

“…We are busy…” 78 years old Harley sighed.

We purchased ourselves a new home at Portland.” 

“Wow!” Harley was seen smiling.

“It’s superbly cozyfully equipped four bedroom home, the type our place has ne’er seen. 

“Martha, did our son really write this? Does he think Seattle is a behindhand place? Between, he hasn’t even asked about us so far.”

“He might be busy, might have scribbled it in the middle of work or sleep…For all that,  he wrote to us,  right?” There was a comforting tone in her words.

“Hmmm….see, he has left us the address, but no phone number…Our son says

Harley read aloud.

….You are welcome to come over any time. “

Harley and Martha exchanged looks. 

Silence prevailed.

Twelve days later they were seen arriving at the Seattle airport for next flight to Portland.

~~~~

(Word count: 189)

(Sunday Photo Fiction – December 9, 2018}

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The Wait

(Photo prompt  by Jodi McKinney)

The brief days of the winter made the dusk darker than ever.

The old woman became restless when the clock showed 6.25 pm.

Her grandson was supposed to join her by 5 pm. 

He wanted to enjoy his holidays with grandma at her solitary house in the isolated village.

With each passing minute, her heart became heavier.

All the worst fears crossed her mind.

What if the bus, the only conveyance to the village, has broken down?

She was terrified thinking about the hairpin curves to be covered even without a street light?

Her thoughts were disturbed by a shrill sound from away.

At a distance, she could see two balls of fire approaching.
Oh, just the front lights of the bus!

It slowed down at a distance, and a boy was seen alighting.
After moments, she was hugging his grandson, like her biggest treasure.

{Written for FFfAW Challenge – 195th}

Life Lessons From The Murky Waters

Image result for Murky waters
(Photo: Shutterstock)

Prompt for December 11, 2018-

“There was something moving slowly just under the surface of the water.”

~~~~~~~

Granny, what’s the worst part of becoming an adult? Mira asked playfully.

Eighty-one-year-old Philo smiled and replied, ” Depends…On the type of person, you are!

“Oh, granny! How do you see yourself? I want to know

“At times I am a carefree soul, other times I am a thinker…And this causes all the difference!

“Brief me more, my dear fat penguin!” Mira pleaded.

“Aww, you silly girl!” Philo laughed and continued, “See, a carefree person is unworried about life. A thinker always finds something to dissect, by pondering…Such a person might answer your first question! “

” Grannyyou already told that occasionally you are a thinker. So how do you like answering my question?

Mira was trying to know more about granny; she wanted to make granny happier.

 Well, I see that…

“she paused.

“…..life becomes suppositional…and….you don’t have solid solutions for everything. It can be maddening when you are forced to make choices…

Both fell silent. Mira was figuring out. Philo was contemplating.

“……Or say, it can be like looking for minnows in murky waters. You think you did the right thing until you get the stingand live with that forever. Got it, dearie?

Mira, the 18-year old, started feeling clueless. But the idea of fishing fascinated her. 

She jumped and asked, ” Granny, let‘s go fishing! I want to catch some minnows. You are my guide.

The enthusiastic granny escorted Mira without questions and hesitations. 

They drove to the lake nearby. Granny rested on a chair placed on the bank and was occasionally heard communicating instructions.

The water was hard to see through. Granny told that it would be fruitless to catch minnows there. But an adamant Mira kept trying. Every time she noticed a slow movement under the water surface, she kept the bait ready.

After a whileshe decided to give up the bait and started fishing with her hands.

As soon as the next movement was observed, she plunged her hands into the murky waters and got herself a non-venomous water snake that tried to bite her.

She jarred and flung it away, enough to startle granny.

Within seconds, both of them started their return journey.

Philo was seen contemplating. Mira was seen figuring out.

{Written for Today’s Author}

Love Rock & Bread Rolls (Fiction-Mouldy)

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                                                                                              (Photo: Shutterstock.com)

Every grain of the beach sand started glistening as the setting sun rays waved them good bye.

The middle aged man and woman found their way towards the rock they claimed as their own. Loving an inanimate object, as hard as a rock, assures emotional feelings attached to it.

It was the prime site to view the sunset, moreover it was where they had declared their love. Good enough reasons to love a big, dull colored round stone which they named as “love rock.”

That rock was their favorite spot for 32 years. Before marriage their beach visits happened every weekend carrying rustic bread rolls, unique to Reiners Bread & Snack shop. They talked, they laughed, and they shared the snack which remained his favorite. They sat silently. They were in love.

Getting married changed up their routines. Their already infrequent beach visits dwindled, it was merely twice or thrice after starting a family.

When life demanded relocation to assume increased responsibilities, they obeyed. The love rock and the bread rolls stayed in their heart but were no more in their life. The couple missed them both very dearly. Fantastic events of the initial decades of marriage gave away to run-of-the-mill days.

The humdrum encouraged them to go back to the familiar place. They decided to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary at the love rock with just the Reiners bread rolls and wine taken in a basket.

In the evening,  they reached the beach. Both of them enjoyed a regained life. They sat on the love rock silently. The sky appeared lovely with a blaze of pinks and oranges.

Suddenly he spoke.

“Will you ever forget me?”

She was startled by the completely unrelated question.
Before she could respond he shivered, went numb and was seen lying on the rock leaving off the snack basket. The bread pieces fell off his hand onto the rock.

A cry for help was all that she could remember. All efforts proved fruitless, for he had started his return journey too early.

Ten days after the funeral she visited the beach. She believed he was still lying there on the rock, expecting her.

All she found were the mouldy bread rolls left by him on the rock.

“Oh dear, you left those for me, didn’t you?” She cried.

“I know…I know…that’s why it’s untouched by ants and birds. You definitely left them for me…”

People noted the woman insanely picking up something from the rock, and eating.

Shamed

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Standing amidst hundreds of eyes, the female figure was mercilessly humiliated.

The drape of the feminine figure was undone without a grace.

Even so, no-one heard a screamnot even a sob.

The eternal hell didn’t break loose.

No Krishna appearedThe drape was mere short.

stood there among the spectators, reeling the Panchali humiliation episode from the epic Mahabharata, in my mind.

True that the imminent fall of the drape in public instantly made me uncomfortable.

 Did I do something against it? NO!

Simply because…

I was buying the drape that female mannequin was wearing!

A winter getaway

WOW: Write About The Sounds You Hear

An escape from the hustling and bustling city to my grandmother’s lovely village was something I constantly dreamt.

The humble village where the sun’s radiance reflected the gentle heart of the villagers and the breeze accompanied us like a faithful companion. The fresh air greeted us with flower scents; it was the haven of the chirping birds that hummed melodies that no other instruments were capable to play.

Walking alone or sitting serenely listening to our thoughts seemed a maddening exercise in the cities. The outdoors offered sounds of roaring machines, moving motors or chattering people. All we obtain to breathe is the polluted black air. Things were the same if you escape to a lush park. The indoors marked the rumblings of a high-pressure, target oriented workplace. Or we can hear the constant uninteresting conversations sprouted either from our own house or from the neighbors’ flat. Or the screams of those kids who ne’er enjoyed active spaces.

The village wakened me up with the symphonies of nature. Life became marvelous.
Close by my bedroom window there was a Java Apple tree,  full of pink delicious fruits. The various colored birds feasted on the fruits taking turns and made love. I could sit all day near the window and observe them. I was listening to my mind, without actually making an effort.

The views were enough to strike a chord.
A gentle reminder to find a soul mate and to have a family.
A notice that devouring good food, having sound sleep and merrymaking with friends is a sure-fire good life scheme. No bonus for sacrificing one’s life for the company’s growth.
My mind noted and conveyed the things I was missing in my hectic corporate life.
What a pleasant way of life!

NB: All should escape to a lovely place often to be in tune with our own selves, to discover what the mind has to tell and discover our calls.

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

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Caged

(Photo by Boris Smokrovic via Unsplash)

 

The caged but hungry butterfly felt dizzy consuming the artificial liquid fed by the girl, shouting “drink and be merry!

When booze-free, it could sense the precious nectar of a nearby flower that was moving dilly-dally in the breeze.

It tried passing through the cage with all its might only to fail, then cried, “nothing in life is as sweet as freedom!

~~~~~

{In response to Three Line Tales, Week 149}