I have no idea how long I’d been here. And for what reason. Maybe, my family couldn’t pay the ransom. Or he didn’t ask for a ransom.
Perhaps, they just wanted to ruin my life – depriving me of my freedom.
I live here day and night imagining what it is to go outside and be free. And some days, I imagine a window showing beautiful sceneries.
This windowless room gave me a different view – a view which no windows could ever give me.
This fiction is written for #FictionMonday based on the prompt -WINDOW hosted at Reflections by yours truly.
be a seed
so you can survive in the dirt
and inspire the world with beautiful blooms
“Learn from seeds; they don’t die when you throw dirt at them; they grow.”― Matshona Dhliwayo
This herb garden was grown by the students in my son’s school. It’s inspiring to see the kids taking responsibility and tending to the plants. They have done a good job, haven’t they?
Joining Esha & Natasha for #WordlessWednesday
& Parul for #ThursdayTreeLove.
Is it the sun playing hide and seek
Is it the sky jealous of sharing her friend
Is it the cloud goofing around just because
Black clouds towering
like a mountain
Blocking my way ahead
Another rainy day
marking its territory
in my memory
Mom wasn’t always like this. She used to be the liveliest person in our house.
She had answers for all the questions and solutions to all the problems. She made everything seem to be nice when nothing seemed to right.
Her sense of humor was wonderful too. There never was a dull moment with her around. Never had I felt abandoned under her care.
It all began with forgetting the little things. The TV remote, car keys in the freezer, her name – that was a shocker when she couldn’t remember her own name. But it was funny too, because she joked, “I’m a mom, my name is long forgotten!”
When she couldn’t remember my name that’s when we realized that there was something wrong.
She looks okay, but she is not. She sits in the verandah looking at the gate as if she is expecting someone. I wish I knew who she was waiting for! If only she remembered to tell me!
“Wow, so many of them!” Neena has never felt such a rush of happiness before. “How nice of you!” She exclaimed.
She leaned forward to pick up the red roses, but in vain.
The dead can’t touch.
Her husband should’ve brought the roses when she was alive. A little late to show love.
This flash fiction is based on the prompt Red Roses from The Frangipani Creative group! Thanks for the prompt, Corinne.