New sort of prompt! This appeared on one of my personal social media feeds as a writing prompt. Never done a writing prompt from a pic before, was fun! Nice, short one:
“Girls can do anything boys can do, AND they can do it in a dress and heels!” – she had used the classic retort when her brother had remarked that he didn’t think she would be up to the task of helping him split the firewood, something their mother had suggested. She had felt very superior when she said it, and even more so in agreeing to his immediate challenge for her to prove it. However, staring upon the task at hand, she wished she had kept her mouth shut. Continue reading
I regret that evening every single day. If I could turn back the clock, I would, of course I would. The look on your face when I turned away for the final time, to follow my new, cool ‘friends’ to the party is forever etched in my memory. The saying is that ‘time heals’, but if anything, your features grow sharper with each passing month. More disappointed, more astonished, more…hurt.
That is the worst part – remembering the pure and simple hurt of my broken promise etched in your widened, too-bright eyes and downturned mouth and your red cheeks. Continue reading
The below should have come out on Wednesday – apologies!
More from the universe of my own creation 🙂
Gina raised her eyebrows at the stall holder when he named his price and he immediately raised his hands in defence.
“Miss, if I sell them to you for any less, I’ll be making a loss, I swear it. Costs for all of us have gone through the roof, ask anyone!”
Gina sighed, and resignedly drew the requested coins from her satchel. She dropped them in his outstretched hands, shaking her head at his ‘thank you’s. A few minutes later, her basket full of carrots and onions, she continued down the path and turned a corner. The sky was a twilight orange, with rapidly shifting clouds dappling the sunlight filtering between the rows of earthen brick buildings, some three floors high. Continue reading
August, some years ago, Age 10
Just woke up. 4 more days until school starts!! Going to drink my milk. I hope R stops acting like an idiot, like he is at the moment. He did. Watching cartoons! Today we played a lot of Carom*.
Another (alternate) Wednesday, another diary entry! Continue reading
I peered about the room before I entered, strategising. It was my mother’s annual pre-Christmas party and the room was packed with family members and friends all bustling about and helping themselves to finger foods laid out on a table on one side.
My primary goal was to avoid any awkward conversation about my recent break up with the man everyone had been convinced was going to propose earlier in the month. Nobody would believe that it was mutual, for the best or that I wasn’t actually as devastated as maybe I ought to have been – no, I would instead be looked at with the utmost pity and phrases such as ‘And at thirty two, time is ticking, poor dear’ would follow me as I moved about the room. Continue reading
The following short story is from a universe of my own creation, which I am building bit by bit. As such, it is close to my heart. I hope you enjoy it! Expect more from this universe every other Wednesday (opposite to diary entry Wednesdays).
“It’s the king, stupid. See the jewels in his turban?” Karim said, prodding the piece of paper clutched in his new friend’s hands with the wooden stick he had been using as a pretend sword. “And that’s you lot.” He shifted the wooden stick slightly to indicate the swarms of people sat around the central figure.
Sayem frowned down at the drawing, which made ‘his lot’ look quite dirty and ugly. “We don’t look like that.” Continue reading
I still remember when you held me in your arms, both of us illuminated by a full, bright moon determined to show us the best possible versions of ourselves. I was at once the most powerful and the most vulnerable creature in this world. Sometimes I still visit the tiny island where I felt your lips on my neck for the first time, and I can feel them still, a faint ghostly tingling as I turn my face towards the night sky, hoping, praying, that my home did not claim your life as my family insists. That I will see you, an unexpected surprise on the sand, mooring a boat with your head tossed back in careless laughter. But I have not seen you for almost twelve full cycles of that moon, now, and whenever I hear the waves crash against the rocks on particularly stormy nights, hope slips a little further out of reach from my heart. Continue reading