Saturday, 24 May 2014

Eternally Bright..

The rain poured down in torrents as she sat on the roadside, meager torn rags hardly enough to shield her shivering bare body against the assault of the heavens. Her lips and nails had turned blue with the cold while her teeth chattered as she withdrew deeper into the chasms of death, begging the Gods above as she had all her life for a morsel of pity. Hope that had kept her anchored to this world now abandoned her as despair, pain and the deadly chill enclosed her in its suffocating tendrils, patiently robbing her of breath as it became more strenuous and uneven.

 As her soul slipped away unacknowledged beneath the open heavens, it rose above the drenched city like a speck of light burning bright and free. And then it swelled into a luminous ball of unshackled flames and shot through the skies to the cosmos above to join the ever eternal stars in blissful salvation.

Written as part of the Five Sentence Fiction prompt.
Word Prompt: Anchor

Saturday, 17 May 2014

Bruised Petals..

The blow resounded hard in her head, bruising her pale skin and drawing blood as the man above her pounded on with ruthless ferocity, staining the once white sheets red. His hand smothered her cries and silent tears rolled down her cheeks as he exploited her innocence with viciousness, deflowering her delicate petals like an animal. He screamed as he reached the pinnacle, his hands forcing her head down into the mattress and she shut her eyes against the vision of his ghastly scarred face distorted with passion.

He left the money on the bedside table, an inhuman grin filling his face as he looked at her terror stricken eyes now filled with dread and fear, her youthful skin darkened black at places where he had hit her and whispered softly in her ears...
‘I shall be back again, my love...’

Written as part of the Five Sentence Fiction prompt.
Word Prompt: Innocence

Thursday, 8 May 2014


Aladdin was both scared and terrified, for beyond those huge ornate doors lay the treasure that had haunted his thoughts, stolen his peace of mind, robbed him of his family and torn everything apart with it. He had lain awake day and night puzzling over the map, the lamp burning dimly till the wee hours of the morning whilst he pondered over its innumerable intricacies until his obsession had dulled out everything but dreams of gold. And here he was at last; unlocking the doors he carefully stepped inside as the doors closed softly on their own and golden shine blinded him with lust and greedy frenzy.

Laden with brilliant gold, priceless treasures and glittering gems Aladdin now fished out the map from his pocket on which was inscribed the magic incantation that would yet again unlock the mighty doors and herald in the sounds of a richer life beyond...But the map had gone mysteriously blank, entrapping him inside forever.

Written as part of the Five Sentence Fiction prompt.
Word Prompt: Doors
(Inspired by The Arabian Nights)

Sunday, 4 May 2014

The Page Will Turn..

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 46; the forty-sixth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton

  The tip of the kohl had turned blunt with use and the cheap glamour it afforded had faded with time. Smita had to repeatedly smudge its black lining to shape it to perfection, highlighting her eyes and adding that touch of mystery that drew clients to her ill reputed lane. The night was her ally, its dark cloak shielding her from the ugliness of her profession as men flocked to her to seek pleasure amidst the bustle of the city. The red shine of her lips glistened in the dim light as she adjusted the flimsy straps of her dress designed to bring out her voluptuous curves.

  Smita failed to recognise herself in the mirror. A pale beauty with haunting eyes stared back at her, the eyes devoid of dreams that had once drawn her to the city. For a moment time stilled as the past came back with startling clarity to torment her. The mirror adorned with artificial flowers felt like a window to her soul but the flowers with their mock splendour failed to soothe its upheaval.

  As a child Smita had loved flowers. She would bask in their fragrance, their natural beauty elevating her to some divine world where she wove them together into garlands of love, hope and joy. The village people called her ‘The Floral Beauty’. She would rescue dying flowers and paint their petals with shades of hue, using them to adorn the village during festivities. She would bunch fresh flowers into huge bouquets and sprinkle them with her hope and love. She had known in her heart that she was meant for something more and had moved to the city with floral dreams garnishing her hopeful eyes.

  But harsh reality had intruded soon enough and job in the city had turned out to be scarce. The meager amount of money had been insufficient to harbour to her needs and hunger, debt and necessity had driven her from door to door seeking jobs that might help sustain her in the ruthless city. She had sold her soul to the very devil when she had come begging to these doors, destitute and desperate, hungry for a morsel of bread and clean water to quench her thirst. And with her soul, she had sold her body.
  Smita drew in a deep breath, but no fragrance came to enfold her in its warm embrace. The touch of synthetic petals, devoid of life, provided no strength against the agony her bruised body suffered night after night. She left the dimly lit room and stepped out, the chilly wind cold against her bare skin. As she stood beneath the street light waiting for her clients to show up, she looked at the flowers hanging gracefully from the boughs of the tree. Their scent lingered on the streets, bringing hope to her shattered soul with it. Someday she would weave garlands of dreams again... Someday ‘The Floral Beauty’ shall sprinkle droplets of joy over the flowers of the city.

  A car drew up against the pavement and rolled down its window. After the usual hassle over the night’s bargain, Smita stepped inside her client’s car . And as the car drove past the tree Smita drew courage from her dreams, holding on to them like a talisman endowed with powers to heal her soul, knowing in her heart someday the page will turn.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 01

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