This 45-word Flash Fiction is written in response to the ninth edition of Fiction Monday for the above picture prompt and the word prompt ‘MIRROR’ hosted at Reflections by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell.
This Flash Fiction is written in response to the seventh edition of Fiction Monday – word prompt ‘BEWARE’ and the below picture prompt – hosted at Reflections by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell. 🙂
The ash tree which stood majestically right outside Dana’s window showed signs of the impending change of season. In a few weeks, the tree would put on the prettiest shades of yellow and red, and soon will shed leaves revealing the branches in minimal covering.
She wondered if the tree felt somewhat shy in displaying its tentacles out in the open like that! Would it then crave for the company of leaves that blanketed the branches now, like she was craving for her favorite pals?
But then baring its soul is just a one season phenomenon for the tree. Unlike her, who was forced to coop inside her house since Spring brought new buds. The pandemic stopped her from visiting her favorite place, the library.
This new normal was stretching from season to season like the frigid limbs of a leafless tree extend with uncertainty as if it is frozen in time.
Dana’s heart ached to get back to the corridors of the library that held bookshelves carrying rows of books dear to her. She and her beloved companions would be separated for how many more seasons, who knew!
This Flash Fiction is written in response to the fourth edition of Fiction Monday – word prompt ‘SEASON’ and the above picture prompt – hosted at Reflections by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell. 🙂
The blank page stared at him. It could very well be accepted as a sign to end his writing career before it even started. He sighed. A blank page is also a sign to write something, he decided. That was the beginning of his writing career.
The curtain swayed as the air conditioning unit came to life. Athira opened her eyes. It was still dark outside. She let out a sigh of relief. Her headache didn’t subside and she didn’t want to wake up yet.
As she closed her eyes in an effort to go back to sleep, she heard a noise again. These nights without Raj made her uncomfortable. But this being yet another trip that her husband couldn’t avoid, she had to endure yet another night alone.
The door creeked open gently. Athira alarmingly sat up on her bed.
“Did I wake you up, Amma? Oh no! I’m sorry! I wanted it to be a surprise to you!” Her seven-year-old son, Athul was disappointed.
“What happened, dear? Are you okay?” She replied.
Athul slowly placed the breakfast tray in front of her on the bed. “Happy birthday, Amma!”
More than the heart meticulously crafted on the bread, she was moved by her son’s gesture. He woke up early to make sure that his mom will get his present first thing that day.
This fiction is written for #FictionMonday based on the below image prompt by the fabulous Shilpa Gupte hosted at Reflections by yours truly.
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!