Three Line Tales, Week 81

Hosted by Sonya at


Three line tales week 80: a pizza oven

photo by Cathal Mac an Bheatha via Unsplash

By Neel Anil Panicker

“How on earth could a man who’s so madly in love with his wife throw her into a burning oven?”

‘Well, well. Even I find that hard to believe though how I wish he were simply humanly and not madly in love with her.

Then he wouldn’t have done what he did, isn’t it?.’

©neelanilpanicker2017 #ThreeLineTales #fiction #50words


Three Line Tales, Week 80

Hosted by Sonya at


three line tales week 80: a blue old school VW camper van

photo by Annie Theby via Unsplash


By Neel Anil Panicker

Rahul had clearly missed the bus.

Hurtling down the wrong side of forty, the senior accounts assistant could teach a thing or two to every newbie in town; at last count his office had recruited not less than 20 of them, all with fancy  CA prefixed to their names, and it was sadly ironical that all these greenhorns partook of fat cat eight figure dollar salaries despite coming to him for resolution of all their problems, doubts, issues et al.

But then harsh reality struck Rahul and he realized that they had something that he didn’t have and never ever could even dream of possessing__the art of knowing which side of the bread needs to be buttered.

(neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #threelinetales #bus #117words


Three Line Tales, Week 79

A weekly fiction challenge hosted by the wonderful Sonya at

Three Line Tales, Week 79


three line tales week 79: outside of the MCG; the g

photo by Arnaud Mesureur via Unsplash

By Neel Anil Panicker

The sky above is a darkish grey; any moment the earth below may drown in thunderous showers. In his vaunted post abutting the fifty foot high, barbed and electrified red stone walls of the northern periphery of Tihar Jail, Gaffar, the vagabond with no home, braces himself for the long night ahead.

It is a wet earth that greets him as he lays his frail bare boned self onto the uneven rocky outgrowth that is his pad, that has been his bed, his only roof under the sky for the past three decades, ever since the authorities that be built the largest penitentiary in all of Asia. A ten feet deep muddy culvert that runs all around the massive walls is the only barrier that separates him from the inmates who live inside the four walls.

Tonight, as an unrelenting cold westerly wind unleashes its fury, threatening to tear asunder his makeshift bed of mere leaves and twigs, Gaffar Mian gazes longingly at the watch tower above the walls, and at the machine gun wielding sentry atop it, wondering whether his life is any better than the lives of prisoners within those prison walls.

#neelanilpanicker2017 #partsevenofdangerouslove #dangerouslove#fiction#gaffarmian#334












Three Line Tales, Week 78

Sonya at ONLY 100 WORDS has challenged us to write a three line tale from this photo prompt.


three line tales week 78: someone walks down the stairs at the Guggenheim Museum in NYC

photo by Mahdis Mousavi via Unsplash

By Neel Anil Panicker

Al slipped the phone back to its cradle, trudged back to his bare boned six by six darkened cell that he shared with one other inmate and there, left all to himself with only the stony walls for company, he began to ponder over the repercussions of his actions, the frighteningly damaging consequences of falling in love with Lisa.

She was ravishingly beautiful, a sex bomb, no doubt;  his hands had never felt so good on any other female form, the kisses never been so long and passionate with anyone else, his heart never flipping for anyone as badly as it had flipped for the very busty, feisty, sexually thirsty nineteen-year-old Liz.

But why then did Al feel as if he were forever climbing up a steep never ending staircase, one that had as many spirals going up as it had coming down? Why, what, and most importantly, whose wrath did he fear so much that even a moment’s solitude spent dreaming about Liz and her ‘oh so obvious’ pleasures was proving to be a Herculean effort?

(For those interested in the First Part please click on the link given below.

(neelanilpanciker2017 #3LineTales #fiction #shortstory #178words



Three Line Tales, Week 76

Welcome to Week 76 of Three Line Tales.

Hosted by

Sky High

three line tales week 76: a woman dancing on a tennis court

photo by Sam Burriss via Unsplash

By Neel Anil Panicker

Sheena Bora, though footloose and fancy free, was made of sterner stuff, as evidenced by her dreams that kept getting bigger and bigger.

Each day she would inch closer and closer to achieving them, her laudable efforts though seen by others as a gargantuan struggle.

She was sure one day soon she would raise her slender frame and touch the sky, cupping it in her hands, her feet firmly grounded on terra firma.

©neelanilpanciker2017 #fiction #3LineTales #dreams


Three Line Tales, Week 75

Welcome to Week 75 of Three Line Tales.

Hosted by Sonya at


Smart Moves

three line tales week 75: two bicycles in front of the ocean

photo by Meghan Yabsley on Unsplash


By Neel Anil Panicker

“Show that you love me by jumping into the icy waters right away?”

‘Hey! Most certainly, and why not; however, if I were to do so, would you then prove your love by jumping after me?’

“I guess it’s best if we simply admire the ocean from the deck.”

©neelanilpanicker2017 #ThreeLineTales #50words #fiction


Three Line Tales, Week 74

Welcome to Week 74 of Three Line Tales.

Thanks t our hostess Sonya at


three line tales week 74: an empty school

Photo by Daniel von Appen on Unsplash

By Neel Anil Panicker

Just when I thought my nightly vigil outside the bedroom window that opens to the street below may not lead to fruition, I spot him__curly  blond locks hanging loosely over a Sherlock Holmes shaped head that forever seems to bob around in an indeterminate arc; the face, pimply and plastered with a stupefied smile; the gait, gauche and bereft of any machismo; the overall persona screaming insouciance with a capital I.

The sight of him sends my heart beats speeding faster than Ben Johnson ever could, its momentum travelling through the body’s umpteen arterial veins, rushing past every single crevice and opening, filling them with an inexplicable joy bordering on euphoria and finally, culminating in me locking my knees in rhapsodic joy, the insides of my inner thighs wet with anticipation.

What is it in him that leads to such madness and euphoria, such unadulterated joy that I can no longer be myself, that I lose my senses and submit myself to him completely, willingly, unquestioningly?

I doubt I’ve the answer to that; I doubt I shall ever seek it.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #3LineTales ##fiction #188words