Friday, May 10, 2013

Basic Instinct

Gurgling in stomach
As he ripped open her abdomen,
Eyes greedily savoring its contents.
Blop went into jars
Liver, kidneys, pancreas.
His tongue ached to get in.
"Congratulations on your first autopsy doc!"


This post is in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge - Week Sixty-Seven. The prompt is to write 33 words (exactly) that include among them at least one example of onomatopoeia.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013


Raghav found him piled up at his doorstep, as he stepped out to pick up milk one chilly morning. He slammed the door shut in half an instant. A hundred thoughts started racing through his mind as randomly as the bees that have been forced out of a broken beehive.

Standing with his back still glued the door, he sensed a queasy feeling creeping up to his chest. His heart was thumping right into his throat, his mouth dry, breathing heavily, his arms trembling and knees suddenly gone weak. He barely managed to hold himself up as he stumbled onto the cold floor below his bare feet. 

A quick glance into the peephole and he was sure it was Arya. There was no mistaking those same tiny hands that clenched tight at the slightest exposure to cold, lovely long eyelashes – a tad too big for his small face, cheeks flushed with the redness of a dozen roses and pink lips that pursed while he slept – just like now. And wait. Wasn’t he wearing his favorite shirt – the plain white one with tiny blue and red checks only at the collar and cuffs? 

Raghav panicked. He could not understand this. How could Arya be here? Tears streamed down his cheeks as his mind raced to the day Arya was born – as he lifted into his arms the fruit of his loin, his own blood. Glimpses of Arya’s childhood flashed in front of his eyes – one after another in an endless current that he couldn’t interrupt. It all ended in a sudden, frightening shriek. The listless body of a drowned child floated on the surface of the pool. Raghav shuddered as he opened the door once again. A lonely bottle of milk was all that stood there.


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

Friday, May 3, 2013

Of Abysmal Powers

A deep, dark recess beckoned the 10-year-old's hand.
"Arya, NO!" 
Groping for the ball, excruciating pain suddenly clutched his hand.
Oblivious of his powers, the bride admired 'SuperArya' etched on his wrist.


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

The prompt is to write the origin story to the superhero of our choice (Mine is 'SuperArya' :d ) in exactly 33 words.

Tuesday, April 30, 2013

A new doorway

The maze of wires that connected his brain to the monitor and would soon tap into the deepest recesses of his mind gave him jitters. Beads of sweat cropped up on his forehead and the sustained pounding in his chest made him unusually aware of cardiac presence. An impulsive desire to scurry past the white coats rose in his heart as he began to question his decision of volunteering for this project.

Awareness would not abandon him during the procedure but he would feel no pain, so he had been reassured. The 'Memory manipulation-cum-enhancement procedure (MMEP)', if successful, would open a new therapeutic door to the world. It could possibly eradicate multitudes of illnesses that plagued humanity today.

Few minutes into the procedure and a voice exclaimed,"This is amazing. Just the perfect results we expected. His neurons are firing exactly as they... Hold on... Wait... What's this?... What's going on here?"

"Jenny, get me his vitals, right now", the voice demanded urgently.

"What the hell is happening?" he was screaming now.

The body on the table was, by this time, violently jerking, arms and legs all over the place, getting into distortions that would possibly snap it into pieces. Eyes rolled up, face contorted, froth drooling out the mouth and heavy breathing. A state of panic enveloped the procedure room as action took over to handle this emergency. In a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, the anti-epileptic injection calmed him down.

Hours later, a voice, in its full-blown innocence asked the nurse, "Where am I?"


This post is in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge week seventy-five.

The prompt is to write a 33 to 333 word response using the following word/definition:

DOOR:  a means of access or participation : opportunity

Sunday, April 28, 2013


Ear-deafening shrieks tore through the darkness as her terror-filled eyes followed the haunting shadow again.
"It's fine, honey. There's nothing here," balm-like words soothed her.
A doll's arm revealed itself from his pocket.


This post is in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge Week Sixty-Five.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

End of all woes

The ecstasy on William's blood-stained face as he was about to be beheaded in front of a huge crowd of gawking spectators, the hope of seeing the rays of the sun tear apart the darkness of the unending, gloomy night, the anticipation of the fragrance of his long-lost love, his aching for the gentle kiss that reminded him of dew-topped rose petals, the sounds of her tinkling laughter every time he played with her silken tresses, they all masked the tears of blood that he shed in his fight for her and the immense suffering he put up to bring justice to her death. In a moment of trance, this soldier realized that few seconds from now, he would be hers in death too, just as he'd never quit being hers in life. He couldn't contain within himself the rapturous exaltation coupled with relief that he was going to become one with her... finally!


This post is in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge (week seventy-four)

This week’s Trifecta challenge was to incorporate the word below, in the third definition.

This week's word prompt:

ECSTASY (noun)

a : a state of being beyond reason and self-control
b archaic : swoon
: a state of overwhelming emotion; especially : rapturous delight
: trance; especially : a mystic or prophetic trance

Thursday, November 22, 2012

A World Full Of Strangers

There are times in life when it's comforting to have strangers around you. You don't feel lonely this way. And yet there's no one who will ask u 'Why are you upset? What happened? Why are you feeling so low?'

They just leave you to be yourself. Girls walking around giggling on phone, guys involved in animated conversations with friends, women exchanging gossip in whispers and some old men sitting with the newspaper which seems to be their best friend.

You walk past with some burdens buried deep inside you, desperate to fight their way into the outer world through tears. Your will emerges stronger and not a single drop is shed. May be because you don't want any of these inanimate strangers to come to life and ask you the same questions you wanted to avoid. Or may be because you really wanted someone else to care about these...