By Neel Anil Panicker

Alone in the pitch dark garage of his house, that stood like a solitary pine, a classy duplex flat in the in the extreme far corner of Fifth Avenue, the snooty upper class secluded neighbourhood of South Delhi, fifteen year old Abhilash turned into a nervous wreck on the brink of a breakdown.

As he steadied himself against the red bricked walls, his lean frame drenched in large icicles of sweat, his mind engaged in a fierce battle with his heart which had turned into a cauldron of emotions as his fifteen year old self wrestled with the new found knowledge__of what he had seen and, more importantly, what now needed to be done.

For the umpteenth time that sultry afternoon he played out in his mind the video recording of the events of the past one hour.

‘He is back come home from school, a couple of hours earlier than usual___an event necessitated by the sudden demise of the Vice Principal__finds the front door strangely locked, walks around to the back and gets in through the kitchen door, (he always keeps a spare key for emergencies).

The house is pitch dark.

Where’s Mom?

Maybe she’s asleep.

At this hour? Why not?

Earlier in the morning, he had overheard her say to Dad about not being able to make it to Sharma Uncle’s daughter’s reception.

“It’s this headache. Keeps recurring. I guess an afternoon’s sleep would help me shake it off”, she had said.

He tiptoes into her bedroom hoping to surprise her.

He is about to turn the handle door open when he hears a slight noise.

Someone’s inside. He hears muffled whispers. A man’s voice?. Rough and crass. Muted laughter follows.

His heart beats crazily under his chest, his fingers turn moist, he has trouble standing, his limbs start shaking.

Who’s inside? In Mom’s room. In his parents’ bedroom. And where’s Mom.

His mind, a hellish torture, demands answers.

He bends down, peeps through the keyhole.

What he sees shakes the earth beneath his feet. The pupils of his eyes dilate, its irises turn blood red.

His Mom’s inside, in bed and, beside her, is another man___their arms entwined, bodies bare.  

He doesn’t know what or even how to react.

He races out of the narrow corridor, stumbles his way out of the kitchen door, and hides himself in  the garage.

(neelanilpanciker2017   #fiction   #THE MURDER OF INNOCENCE #01  #393 words  #to be continued


Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner is a weekly writing challenge designed for both the flash fiction newbie and the more experienced writer. It is the desire of this challenge to allow writers the opportunity to clear the cobwebs from a more tedious and involved project. Becoming a part of a new and growing writer’s community might be just what the doctor ordered to rejuvenate your writing juices.

his challenge is open until 11:00 pm Friday night, May 12th, 2017.

Click on the Blue Frog to share your story with our community.

5 thoughts on “neelwrites/fiction/murderofinnocence-#01/393words/FFfPP#05/05/2017

  1. A very good story. Thanks for sharing!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks a lot, Henreitta.


  2. Poor kid. Another one brought down by the excuse ‘I’ve got a headache.’ Great story.

    Liked by 1 person

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