Watch out

Gods that bestow blessings abound.
I only ask dues for what's not sound.
So turn on your switch,
Give the bad a miss.
Escape me you cannot
It's your Karma, just watch out.

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This post is in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge - Week Ninety-three.

Buddhist cosmology tells of Trāyastriṃśa, or the Heaven of Thirty-Three gods, which rule over the human realm. The challenge this weekend is to write exactly 33 words about a god of your own devising that shares heaven with the other thirty-two gods.

Day or night?

They all sought her to solve their problems.

Strong-willed, optimistic, an epitome of courage!

At the corner of her bed,

a tear-stained pillow cover boo grudgingly at her.

She’d forgotten to wash it, yet again.

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This post is in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge – Week 101. The challenge is to write a 33-333 word piece that includes the word ‘Boo’ in its third definition as follows. 

boo

1 (interjection)

used to express contempt or disapproval or to startle or frighten

2 (noun)

a sound that people make to show they do not like or approve of someone or something

3 (verb) to show dislike or disapproval of someone or something by shouting “Boo” slowly

Soul-shattering

Perturbed by your numbing presence that drills a hole in my soul, a painful shriek emanates from the depths only to be lost in you, once again.

Oh Silence, please speak to me!

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This post is in response to the Trifextra Writing Challenge - Week Eighty-Five. The challenge is to write a 33-word piece using an 'apostrophe' - a figure of speech in which some absent or nonexistent person or thing is addressed as if present and capable of understanding.

Momentary Presence

(Photo Credit: [ changó ] / Foter / CC BY-NC-ND )

Who are these strangers that cast a shadow on my life? Momentarily present, they changed my life, departed too soon, but left behind an everlasting, indelible mark on the canvas of my fate.

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This post is in response to Trifecta Writing Challenge Week Seventy-Nine. The prompt is the photograph posted above.

Unspoken Notions

"Why don't you discard this plate? I've told you it's inauspicious to keep broken objects in the house."

"Maa it's just a crack in the plate, it's not broken. Besides, I don't want to ruin my entire cutlery set, courtesy of discarded pieces," she frowned, as she struggled to keep her tone low.

Letting go of an audible grunt, her mom stomped out of the kitchen muttering under her breath, utterly displeased at the stubborn genes that had got into her daughter.

As she fondly wiped the plate dry, her eyes moistened with memories of him. He would always insist on eating in this plate ever since he marred its beauty, much to her annoyance.

Suddenly one day, he was gone. No word, no phone call, no letter. She did everything under the sky to locate him, but destiny seemed to have different plans. Hope was lost on everyone else by now, especially since three long years had passed. She, however, could not let go of the last straw of hope, holding on to it, as one does for dear life.

Switching off the lights in the kitchen, she moved towards the pooja room to say her prayers for the day - prayers that often fell on deaf ears according to her. Abruptly, she made a halt in the passageway, as if struck by lightening. Turning back on her feet, she zipped into the kitchen and turned on the lights.

Lifting the plate from the drawer, she held it against her cheek feeling its deathly coldness, even as her tears kept streaming like water from a broken dam.

Crash!!

"What happened my child?" her mom frantically scurried into the kitchen, taking her into arms, as she stared at the shattered remnants of the plate on the floor.

"Nothing maa," she wiped her tears.

Inside of her, a faint voice whispered, "May be this will be auspicious. Just, may be..."

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This post is in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge - Week Eighty-Six.

On writing

My process of writing, in little 3 words

Churn, erase, refurbish.

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This post is in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge - Week Seventy-Six. The challenge is to pen down your writing process in just 3 words.

Not Done Yet

Pills deserved to be fired for betrayal.
The tightened noose was powerless too.
The new concoction held the last ounce of promise.
Third time's a charm, he thought, as he dug her grave.

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This post is written in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge - Week Seventy-Three. The prompt is to write exactly 33 words using the theme 'third time's a charm'.