By Neel Anil Panicker

So you tell me that you did this because you were greatly hurt at being falsely accused  of inappropriate conduct by your colleagues and that to clear your fair name you set this all up in order to investigate and thereafter  catch the person who had brought you so much ignominy, that you did this as you wanted physical evidence of wrongdoing that would help you be exonerated of all accusations of wrongful conduct once you placed it before your bosses, right, Mr Ankur Tomar?

Yes…yes…yes Sir…I felt greatly humiliated, especially and more so when they spoke ill of me on the staff in-house blog and on other social media.

And what exactly did they say about you?

That I am a dirty person and that I don’t bathe and smell bad all the time and the most hurtful of all that I don’t flush the toilet after use.

So, my friend if that’s your defence for placing a camera and recording your colleagues,  several of whom being  females, in various stages of undress, then I am afraid that’s a very weak one, one that will not cut much ice with a judge who will slap you with charges of voyeurism and send you behind bars.
I..I…I am sorry; I now realize that only real cops are allowed to play cops in order to  catch the real culprits; all others have to face the fate of either living with the humiliations leaped upon them, or wait for the truth to come out.





By Neel Anil Panicker
It took a while for her to understand but ever since his last indiscretion__ a quickie weekend fling couched as an urgent out of town meeting with
“some VIP clients who wanted to sign a big ticket deal__she had stopped to shed silent tears in the vain hope that he would he would mend his wayward ways and turn over a new leaf.
“Only those who feel guilty can ever hope to ride the path of Reformation,” was  the solemn pronouncement of Beatrice, her bestie and go to person for all times.
And she couldn’t have agreed more.
Except that one day, she, fuelled by righteous indignation and unbridled rage, decided to take matters into her own hands.

And so it was that one fine morning when hubby dear was lost to sleep, that she climbed on top of him and severed  his organ, the one that was that was the main culprit for his uncontrollable libido.

It’s another matter that she spent the rest of her yeas battling the forces of guilt, leading her wasted existence behind prison bars.
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It’s Six Sentence Story



SET TO SAILthree line tales, week 122: a canal, boats and colourful houses

By Neel Anil Panicker

Crouched on the wooden planks of the single seater canoe, its top helpfully covered in blue plastic sheets, Richard squinted his eyes and peered out into the dark, his sleep deprived eyes scanning the imposing heights that rose and enveloped the narrow stream from all sides; at the red bricked assembly line of row houses stacked one on top of the other.

His X-ray vision zoned in on one particular direction, and particularly, at the match-sized third floor corner flat to his left, and soon enough his midnight vigil paid dividends as he watched the curtain lights fade out and then a slowly, like the parting of the mythological Red Sea, the curtains parted and out there, stood__a smile dancing on her almond shaped visage__his lady love Angelina, her shimmering white silhouette reflected in the crystal clear waters below.

He found himself swimming in the high tide of emotions but quickly regained composure and mulled his next move; which was how to escape with the love of his life before dawn when the pier would come alive with early morning chatter and the pitter patter of fishermen and seafarers getting ready for the day’s business.


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Three Line Tales, Week 122

Three Line Tales, Week 122



A Costly Mistake

Creative Writing Prompt | Sentence Starter | Flash Fiction | Short Story | Writing |

By Neel Anil Panicker
“Can you come here for a second”?
The question seemed to have startled Liz for she turned around a little too quickly, in the process spilling the hot cup of morning coffee on to the bed.
Shit, now I just changed the sheets, she hissed under her breath.
Now what the hell does he require, she wondered as she extricated herself out if bed, her belaboured movements a reflection of her utter annoyance.
Yes, what is it now? I just changed your diaper, didn’t I?, she thundered, her thick mannish arms encircling her rotund figure.
Seconds sped by but there was no response.
Just as was about to open her mouth again, a faint feeble voice, a man’s, a very, very old and sick person’s, was heard, “I…I am sorry, but…I guess…I…I have wet the bed again.”.
God knows what devil overcame her but even before the old man had finished muttering his gibberish, Stella had grabbed the steel stool beside her and hurled it onto the man’s head.
The flying weapon landed on it’s intended Target and the old man collapsed on the bed, his head now split wide open and the brains splitting all out, the snow white bedsheet now  morphed a blood red.
It took a few seconds before Stella regained her senses but by the time she realized the mayhem her sudden loss of sanity had wrecked it was too late.
She had not just brutally killed her nonagenarian father-in-law but was also staring at the depressive prospect  of spending the rest of her life behind prison bars.
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Time To Write: Sentence Starter 35

Creative Writing Prompt | Sentence Starter | Flash Fiction | Short Story | Writing |

Creative Writing Prompt | Sentence Starter | Flash Fiction | Short Story | Writing |



SPF June 3 2018 (1 of 1)

By Neel Anil Panicker

Inspector Sharma took a while to orient himself to the near blinding darkness. Only seconds before he stepped off the torturous 47 degree summer madness that was Udaipur and arrived at the ghostly single room dilapidated mud house located a kilometre and half off the city municipal limits; the nearest signs of civilisation being a rusty hand pump sans its handle at the roundabout leading to the gravel led pathway.

And then commenced the sensory badgering.

Pressing a handkerchief to his nose to fight off the all pervasive smell of ammonia, stale cigarette smoke and cheap country hooch liquor, the senior cop’s eyes began to scan the mayhem that lay all around him.

The place screamed debauchery with a capital D; empty beer bottles, condoms packets, cigarette butts completed the picture.

It was then that he saw it. At first they looked like betel stains. Small irregular blotches of near fading red imprinted onto the yellowed walls that was sans any distemper; an assembly line of insects moving, albeit in super slow mode, in and out of the tiny slits between the purplish brick laden walls.

He inched his way through the muddy dankness and flashed a torch.

Red blotches flared to life.

He knew what they were.

The elusive serial killer was back in business.

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Sunday Photo Fiction – June 3, 2018

Photo Prompt: C.E. Ayr




By Neel Anil Panicker

The thieves took everything except the dog. Probably, they thought, whoever they were, what harm were an old ever wheezing half blind apology of a dog who could barely walk on half a limb.

But then the band of highway robbers who climbed the ten foot high wired fence after cutting off the power supply and putting to sleep the four guards stationed round the clock at the perimeters of the acre-long estate showed that they were after all just human and could be outwitted by a mere four legged doddering German Shepherd who had long passed his  expiry date.

Or, how else could one account for the fact that the entire gang, the half a dozen who committed the midnight heist and made off with the booty that included among others a couple of rare paintings, a steel trunk that contained gold and silver artefacts, and four bespoke limited edition watches, each worth at least a million dollars, was behind bars within 24 hours of the crime?

 “Those Picassos were the rarest of the rare. But that’s besides the point. What’s more important is that Tiger’s instincts are still top class, what say, my dear lady?”

Duchess Mary Margaret of  Lancashire looked admiringly at her husband before replying, “Tiger’s instincts plus yours. So thoughtful of you to plant that micro chip camera onto to Tiger’s neck belt.”

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First Line Friday: May 25th, 2018

Your line for this week is:

The thieves took everything except the dog.


Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!


Hosted at

By Neel Anil Panicker
It all started with an innocuous little incident, an everyday occurrence, one of those seemingly mundane happenings that are part of the hustle and bustle that is the DNA of any big city, leave alone New Delhi, the ever on the boil thriving capital city of India.

Mary Philips, all of eighteen, and running late for his first day at college half ran after exiting from the metro, elbowing, nudging and edging past the teeming morning throng of office goers exiting Gate No. 7 of Connaught Place.

It was too late by the time he  realised that he been pushed from behind.

By the time he realised what had happened and even before he could steady himself, he had fallen head over heels on the mosaic tiled floor.

He twirled and turned around to find himself spreadeagled on the floor, his legs twisted around like malleable steel around another stranger’s, a girl’s, his arms brushing against her left breast.
Hurriedly and very apologetically he extricated himself from the unforeseen awkwardness and took to his heels but not before turning around and honouring the beautiful damsel who had fallen into his lap with his best Sunday Special smile, a magical curve that he knew from experience never ever went unrewarded.

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