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A Month of Mini Writing Challenges 2017-Day 15

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A Month of Mini Writing Challenges 2017-Day 15 hosted by- Sammi Cox

(Write a 50-word story set in the year you were born.  You don’t have to declare what year that was.)

India became independent in August just 5 months before my birth in December.
This was the year of not only celebrations but miseries too.
The Indian subcontinent was dived into two independent nation states India and Pakistan, which caused the largest mass migration and brutal killing of more than millions of people killed, displaced and uprooted.
The person who designed the border between the two countries had no knowledge about the animosity between two communities except the geographical layout of the country.

Cyril Radcliffe, the man who designed the border between the two countries arrived in India only a few days before the partition and had no knowledge about anything except the geographical layout of the country.

Word count-82, could make it less though it is not even 1% of the grief that people had gone through. Everything is recorded in history.)
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A Month of Mini Writing Challenges 2017- Immersion

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Written for the challenge-99 words

 A Month of Mini Writing Challenges 2017-   

Immersion

I’m sitting on a rock on the sea beach watching immersion of Idols of Lord Ganesha, Just four days ago we were worshiping him with full fun and frolics, with flowers and sweets. Now it is time for him to go back to his heavenly abode, hence the immersion in the sea. Waves reverently envelop him slowly and take him down under the sea. I feel sad.

After one week I’m sitting at the same place. I observed remnants of those beautiful idols washed ashore by the waves. Sea never keeps anything. It returns whatever is offered to it.

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Remnants pf the idol

A Month of Mini Writing Challenges 2017-day 10

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Write a story in less than 30 words that includes the words:

hope, fear, unsure.

‘I hope this will teach you a lifetime lesson’, she thundered.

Her unexpected courage and strength made him unsure of himself and  vulnerable. With fear in his eyes he retreated.

Sudden turn of events

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In response to The Daily Post- Sudden turn of events

( It was lying in the draft section. Some truth some fiction)

I was sitting on my veranda making some patterns on the floor with the chalk; I was totally engrossed in it when I heard some commotion across the street. 

O my God! What police were doing in front of Mrs. Bajpai’s house?

Now Mr. and Mrs. were the nicest neighbors one could have.

Our house was just opposite to their house. We were new to the locality. My father, with four children and wife has shifted to this house just six months back. 

We became friendly instantly with everyone as they all were very friendly, accommodating and compatible lot.

There were people from all cast and community living in peace and harmony in our locality.

We celebrated each and every festival with same zeal and fervor. 

Slowly we came to about the background of every family. 

We became very friendly with Mr. and Mrs. Bajpai.

They had six boys, all grown up and had moved away leaving their parents to look after each other. They occasionally came to visit their parents initially but that practice was stopped as they became busier with their work.

Mr. and Mrs. Bajpai never complained. 

Most of the people in the locality lived in rented house. Very few had their own house.

Though our owner never bothered us but he was very particular about rent. You give him rent in time and he will keep quite.

 Mr. Bajpai was doing some small business and the income was barely  sufficient for both of them to live peacefully though savings were a distant dream. Raising six boys was not an easy job. Mr. ’s earning was spent in providing them good education. They could not save any money for their old age.

Real problem started when Mr. Bajpai died suddenly leaving his wife in a helpless.  She had no income and was unable to run her husband’s business, she could not manage rents.

Now accomplished by the police the landlord had himself come there to evict her from the house.

The neighbors tried to intervened and offered some donation but she declined saying it was not a practical solution. How long could they manage and they have their family to look after too.

Mother asked her to move in with us but she declined that too knowing well how small our house was.

We were all crying for failing to do something for our beloved Mrs. Bajpai. We were feeling very miserable. We prayed to god to send some solution.

Solution came but it was not so good as we found later.

Mr Bajpai’s younger brother who had a fight with his brother and lived separately came and took her with him.

We heaved a sigh of relief and thanked God that still some humanity was left in him. Though he could have helped them when his brother was still alive.

Everybody got busy in their daily routine.

After say 15 days my mother asked me to go and see how Mrs Bajpai was doing. I went there ans saw she was not very happy. She tried to hide her discomfort but i could smell it as I was close to her. Her sister in law was not treating her well.

Mrs Bajpai took her permission to visit our house which she readily granted thinking that at least one time meal is saved.

Mrs Bajpai asked me to write a letter to her distant cousin who live quite a distance from our city and whom she had not seen for a long time.

Thankfully he came after sometime and took her with her.

That was the last, no, after one month we got a letter from her siting she is happy.

Then we never heard from her. Our letters came back undelivered.

God knows what happened to so affectionate, always ready to help others Mrs bajpai.

 

 

Friday Fictioneers- scars

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Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochellewisofffields

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Peter Abbey

PHOTO PROMPT © Peter Abbey

Fiction

100 words

Scars

Ruby has to cross the lonely footbridge daily on her way to school. She goes and returns with friends, and still mother never forgets to remind her strictly to never pass the bridge alone. Though their colony is very safe, security guards are posted everywhere.

Ruby wonders why mother is so scared. She asks mother.

Mother looks in her eyes. She is so young and innocent; she will not understand it now.

Once mother made a mistake of crossing a footbridge all alone when she was young.

Mother still shivers.

Time heals all wounds but some scars never fade away.

 

 

 

A Month of Mini Writing Challenges

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A Month of Mini Writing Challenges

Day 28 – Pick the title of a favourite song.  That’s your inspiration.  Now write a story inspired by it in 30 words.

( Inspiration for this story is my favorite song’ Jo Hai Sama, Kal Ho Na Ho
This very moment ,may not be there tomorrow)

Regret

Can we meet today?

Please, it’s important.

Sorry! I have some important assignment to complete.

Next day she met with an accident and was gone to leave me regretting forever.

 

 

 

Happiness is…

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happiness is looking into the innocent, cheerful, smiling eyes.

Sitting under a tree at, its trunk keeping my back straight. Weather is very pleasant, cloudy , cool breeze, giving a hint of rain. I’m all alone , enjoying the surrounding, full of trees.

There comes a dog . Looks at my face. Perhaps for any sign of like or dislike. Founds agreeable. Come close hesitantly. Sniffs my feet,then hurriedly licks my feet and runs away. Comes back again. This time more confident. Wags its tail, again licks my feet and goes away.

Suddenly comes a squirrel, stripped, cute, just 4 inches away from me. Looks at my eyes. I’m sitting very still. Not to frighten it away. We are both looking at each other. It takes me as a statue, perhaps. I can’t keep long without blinking. I blink. The spell is broken. It runs away.

This is the first time a squirrel has come so close. I feel sorry. I could not take its photograph but I’m happy,very happy.

It takes so little to be happy.

 

 

 

Friday Fictioneer- Chicken Heart

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Thanks for the prompt Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple.

PHOTO PROMPT © Luther Siler

PHOTO PROMPT © Luther Siler

Fiction

101 words

Chicken Heart

 

I can tell a murderer when I see one and have never been proved wrong in my long police job.

This woman with such a pious and innocent face, sitting near a brutally murdered body, confused me. She just didn’t fit the scene.

She can’t be a murderer.

Her friends and relatives confirmed my views.

She couldn’t kill a mosquito; she was in fact, a chicken heart. They vouched.    I slapped her to bring her out of the trance. For a second her expression changed. There was wrath and hatred in her eyes. She hissed, ‘He dared to molest my daughter.’

Writing 101, Day 10: Let the scene write itself

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Writing 101, day 10-

Let the scene write itself

Scene 1-

I’m sitting on a rock on the sea beach watching immersion of Idols of Goddes Durga. Just four days ( some celebrate for 9 days as Navaratri) ago we were worshiping her with full fun and frolics, with flowers and sweets. Now it is time for her to go back to her abode  hence the immersion in the sea.

images

Scene 2 –

After one week I’m sitting at the same place. I observed  remnants of the those beautiful idols washed ashore by the waves. Sea never keeps anything. It returns whatever is offered to it.

Image3823 Image3824

It makes me think

Why we are arrogant, stubborn and hyper

Why we fight for class, color, cast or creed

Why we have become so intolerant

Why we are not compassionate, compatible and friendly

There are so many whys…

Why for petty things we pull out dagger

When the end is same for the king or beggar

 

 

Friday Fictioneers- Forlorn

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Friday Fictioneers- Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff

PHOTO PROMPT - © Jennifer Pendergast

Thanks for –

PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast

Fiction

100 words

Forlorn

A forlorn boat,

Recalling its journey of sailing stealthily one night,

Overloaded with men and women

Huddled like cattle

Collected from some poor country

Lured with promises of food, security and job

Chained together

To unknown destination to them

Where slavery and ill fate

Awaits them

Suddenly human trafficker gets a signal

‘Coast guards are on the way to catch him’

In his haste to escape

Forces them to jump in the sea

Leaves them to be buried alive

And sails away with his boat

No one searches for them

No one missed them

Sea hides all signs of crime.

Playing with words

Unclogging my mind...

Only 100 Words

a 100-word story every day

Doug Couvillion's Photo Blog

Visuals from my world

Tales Of Mindful Travels

The Two Doctors walk into a bar ...

Padaek

Lao-Australian Food Blog

Black Body

Just light

Travel with Intent

A photographer's view of the world - words and images to inspire your travels and your dreams

A Whistling Caravan

Write not to impress others,but to express yourself and inspire others!!!™

The Essence Within

Glorious both in spirit and in the letter

Anokhi Roshani

Everything In Hindi

M.I.S.M.A.T.C.H

Everything is a mismatch on their own until they are together and given a meaning.

Scribbled to Paper

Catching Life In The Moment

Tauqeer Ahmad

Cricketer, Student of Commerce, Blogger, i write what i feel. Twitter @tauqeerrao1

Wild Daffodil

the joy of creativity

Amoris et Somniorum

Personal Blog

Colleen Chesebro✨The Fairy Whisperer✨

YA Fantasy Novelist, Poet, & Visual Word Artist

Playing with words

Unclogging my mind...

Only 100 Words

a 100-word story every day

Doug Couvillion's Photo Blog

Visuals from my world

Tales Of Mindful Travels

The Two Doctors walk into a bar ...

Padaek

Lao-Australian Food Blog

Black Body

Just light

Travel with Intent

A photographer's view of the world - words and images to inspire your travels and your dreams

A Whistling Caravan

Write not to impress others,but to express yourself and inspire others!!!™

The Essence Within

Glorious both in spirit and in the letter

Anokhi Roshani

Everything In Hindi

M.I.S.M.A.T.C.H

Everything is a mismatch on their own until they are together and given a meaning.

Scribbled to Paper

Catching Life In The Moment

Tauqeer Ahmad

Cricketer, Student of Commerce, Blogger, i write what i feel. Twitter @tauqeerrao1

Wild Daffodil

the joy of creativity

Amoris et Somniorum

Personal Blog

Colleen Chesebro✨The Fairy Whisperer✨

YA Fantasy Novelist, Poet, & Visual Word Artist