neelwrites/thehit/partfourteenofadangerouslove/24/08/2017

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2017: WEEK #33

Hosted by Roger Shipp at https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2017/08/24/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2017-week-33/

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THE HIT

bike

By Neel Anil Panicker

“Finish him outside the judge’s chamber”.

The words were a staccato, delivered in a banal tone, as if it came straight off a machine.

Salim found himself sweating under his silk shirt.

A dark, foreboding sense of violence loomed large in the camphor filled low ceilinged room whose massive windows were hid by huge dark curtains whose ends fell rather ominously onto to the granite laden floors.

Years of being the boss’ understudy had taught him that there was more to come.

Displaying the patience of a monk and the slyness of a jackal, Salim waited for the

his boss’ instructions.

Astride his decade old Atlas cycle exerciser, the don rode at a furious pace, his muscular arms and legs hurtling forward in tremendous fury.

To Salim, as to any onlooker, the vista resembled a giant black bear rolling off the high mountains, spewing dust and dirt in equal measure, as other lesser endowed animals watched by in stupefied fear and grudging admiration.

An hour later, seated crosslegged in the pearly white diwan, Afzal Bhai spat out betel leaves into the dear-necked bronze spittoon.

Shifting his near ninety kilo weight to one side, the don thundered, his eyes__blood shot, and raging with fire, “Kill Ali, and Liza too, if needed”.

If the order had rattled Salim, he was smart enough not to reveal so in front of his boss.

He merely nodded his head and bowed out of the room.

It was only when he had driven out of Sumer Manzil and was heading towards the syndicate lawyer’s chamber at Karol Bagh did he allow himself a smile, a slow, foxy smile that he kept on for the rest of ride, unmindful of the thickening traffic around him.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #FFfPP#thehit #adangerouslove #partfourteenofadangerouslove

 

DEAR READERS/WRITER FRIENDS INTERESTED IN READING THE EARLIER PARTS KINDLY CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW

For PART ONE

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/07/27/neelwritesffphoningaroundfictionromance100words27072017/

For PART TWO:

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/07/28/neelwrites3linetalesphoningaround-part2fiction28072017/

PART THREE: https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/07/30/neelwritessundayphotofiction03ofdangerouslove30072017/

PART

FOUR https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/01/neelwritespart/

PART FIVE https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/01/neelwritessixsentencestoriesepisodesixofdangerouslovefiction/

PART SIX

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/03/neelwriteswatcherfictionthursdayphotoprompt03082017/

PART SEVEN https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/05/neelwritesgaffarmian-alifeoutsideprisonwallsthreelinetalesfiction188words/

PART EIGHT https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/08/neelwritescatsoutofthebagfffpppart8ofdangerouslovefiction08082017/

PART NINE https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/09/neelwritesthediscoveryfffawpart9dangerouslovefiction09082017/comment-page-1/#comment-3979

PART TEN  https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/12/neelwritesalonelyvigilparttenofadangerouslovefiction35812082017/

PART ELEVEN https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/15/neelwritesthedisclosurespfpartelevenofdangerouslove15082017/

 

PART TWELVE https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/16/neeelwritesthedonsnestparttwelveofdangerouslovefictionnovella16082017/

PART THIRTEEN

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/21/neelwritesbordersixsentencestoriespartthirteenofadangerouslovefiction195words21082017/

 

 

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neelwrites/cat’soutofthebag/FFfPP/part8ofdangerouslove/fiction/08/08/2017

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2017: WEEK #30

Hosted at https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2017/08/02/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2017-week-30/

CAT’S  OUT OF THE BAG?

bolts

 

By Neel Anil Panicker

Ali struck out the back of his palm and squatted a mosquito that had settled on his bare legs.

The standard issue prison uniforms were too short for his six foot tall frame. The half length cotton trousers barely reached below his knees. This coupled with a half sleeved collarless shirt made his body a healthy hunting ground for a swarm of blood sucking mosquitoes who lorded over the hapless prison inmates and attacked with a sadistic delight only seen in hardened criminals. It was ironical to see mere flies practicing their deadly skills on hardened prisoners who in the outside world were capable of putting the fear of the devil in the minds of fellow human beings.

Al, the master criminal was slowly getting to learn that the nuts and bolts of prison life were quite different from the world that he came from.

A slight vibration tingled his bones under the trouser pockets.

Ali looked around at his prison mate. He was lost to sleep.

He looked past his cell gate into the long corridor that loomed ahead. It was pitch dark. Not a soul in sight. He strained his ears against the iron bars. Not a single sound either.

It was two hours past midnight. Still a few hours before the change of shift.

The inmates, the guards…everyone was in sleep mode.

Stealthily, he retreated to his corner space and crouching against the wall, retrieved the phone from his inner pocket and then pressed the green button.

The phone came alive in an instant.

“How are you, Ali Bhai?” It was Moosa’s, the man with the whisky scarred voice.

Only Moosa addressed him as Ali Bhai. For all others he was simply Al.

Moosa’s was the first and only voice he had heard from among the gang members ever since his incarceration.

‘You know me, Moosa Bhai. I am an action guy. Can’t sit alone for long.

This jail thing is so boring.’

“Have patience, bhai. It’s just a matter of time.”

A matter of time, bullshit. Today is my  fifteenth night in this God forsaken place. The maximum I have ever been in prison.

As if reading his thoughts Moosa answered, “I know, dear. Usually we are out by a week.”

‘Moosa, I’m losing it. I feel trapped here.’

“Ali Bhai, I feel for you. I wish you were outside; that we were together, zipping off to the countryside__chatting, binging on movies, gorging on aloo paranthas, gulping whisky…VAT 69, you know …

The thought of what he was missing made downed Al’s moods further.

‘I wish the same, Moosa Bhai. I wish I were outside. I wish I were with Liza.’

The phone went silent for a second.

All Al could hear was the uneven, slow snoring sound of his fellow inmate.

“Are you alone there, Ali? Is there anyone around?”

‘I am alone. You can speak. What’s the matter, bhai?’

“I’m hearing something. There are rumours…whispers actually.”

Al pressed his ears to the phone.

‘About what? About who?’

“About You. About you  and Liza.”

‘What exactly did you hear?’

“Can’t really say. Just a hunch.”

‘Just what’s it, Moosa? Spit it out.’

“Just a conversation. Over the phone. Yesterday…while entering the den…”

The den? Ali knew he was referring to Afzal Bhai, their boss’ private room, the one inside which his boss confabulated with only his very trusted men.

‘The den? What did you hear, bhai?’

“Boss had called me about the Dwarka case. He was just ending a phone call. I just heard a few bits…just snatches of it…his last words caught my ear…They were “you don’t spite the hand that serves you” and then… “ I will teach the bastard a lesson he will never forget”.

Sheer cold wave ran through Ali’s spine. He felt a stab of pain in his chest as slow beads of perspiration began to form on his temples.

‘Did he mention a name? Was he referring to anyone?’

“No. He just slammed the phone down when he heard my footsteps.”

‘What do you think? Is it about Liza and me? Does he know about us? Is that what he was referring to?’

“I don’t know. I can find out if you want. But in the meantime, Ali, my bro, be careful. Be very careful.

Al wiped his sweaty hands across his face and said,

‘I will. I will for sure. Thanks, Moosa bhai.’

“Got to go now. Shall call you after I dig some more info, bye.”

As Al slid the phone back into his trousers, he looked upto to see his prison mate

smiling down at him.

It was a slow, hesitant curve of the lips, and in the dead of the night,

it was enough to spur Al’s already racing heartbeats.

#neelanilpanicker2017 #parteightofdangerouslove #dangerouslove#fiction#cat’soutofthebag#795

DEAR READERS/WRITER FRIENDS INTERESTED IN READING THE EARLIER PARTS KINDLY CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW

For PART ONE

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/07/27/neelwritesffphoningaroundfictionromance100words27072017/

For PART TWO:

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/07/28/neelwrites3linetalesphoningaround-part2fiction28072017/

PART THREE: https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/07/30/neelwritessundayphotofiction03ofdangerouslove30072017/

PART

FOUR https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/01/neelwritespart/

PART FIVE https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/01/neelwritessixsentencestoriesepisodesixofdangerouslovefiction/

PART SIX

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/03/neelwriteswatcherfictionthursdayphotoprompt03082017/

PART SEVEN https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/05/neelwritesgaffarmian-alifeoutsideprisonwallsthreelinetalesfiction188words/

 

neelwrites/FFfPP/firemen/200words/29/05/2017

The challenge for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner will open early Wednesday morning, May 24th. Allow the prompt to take you anywhere you want to go! (Limit your stories to 200 words.)

https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2017/05/24/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2017-week-22/

This challenge is open until 11:00 pm Friday night, June 2nd, 2017.

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

A FIREMAN’S FIGHT

fire

By Neel Anil Panicker

  • Karl upped the nip of his National Fire Fighter Corp. Trucker Hat.
  • “Guys, it’s a Stage 4 Emergency. Check every single equipment. Nozzles, adapters. air systems, emergency medical supplies, handheld lights, monitors. outdoor warning sirens, spanner wrenches, water supplies et al. My guess is that it will take ten hours to put out the fire.”
  • ‘Sir, we’re ready’, responded his men, forty of them, all fitted in beetroot red tactical gear.
  • “Good. Group A, run and around take the left flank, top three floors. Group B, the next five, from the right, and Group C, the remaining floors right down to the basement. Get going boys.”
  • Standing a few meters away, Karl D’ Souza, on his last day of service, stared through his binoculars at the 18-storied Spiralling flares shot up through windows and rooms, the dense smokes reaching out into the skies, shrouding it in black soot.
  • His eyes fell on the 11th, it’s A Wing, the lens zooming in on a board hung on the balcony: ABC CONSULTANTS. His daughter’s office.
  • Two loud explosions rent the air.
  • He dashed into the building. He didn’t care. He’d to rescue his daughter.
  • ©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #FFfPP #200 words

neelwrites/fiction/murderofinnocence-#01/393words/FFfPP#05/05/2017

THE MURDER OF INNOCENCE   (PART ONE)

Man

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- 2017 WEEK #19

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.

https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2017/05/03/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2017-week-19/

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.

neelwrites/FFfPP/fiction/shortstory/200words/17/04/2017

THE WAITING GAME  (200 words)

Poison

By Neel Anil Panicker

Eighteen year olds hell bent on taking their lives fall into two categories.

If you were James Ekka, Jim to the legions of his admirers, and one who owned the meanest set of two wheels this side of Hyderabad, you would call it quits in super style; hurtling in breakneck speed up a steep cliff only to plunge several hundred feet below, crashing onto monstrous granite boulders, both, the man and machine, smashing into smithereens.

Life and death embraced on the fast lane; instant and painless.

And if you were Albert, sweet old Al, on the other hand, you would plan the rigmarole as if it were one big gala event, preparing days nee months in advance, first stalking the dark alleys of cyber space, googling ‘100 painfree ways to commit suicide’, and then crossing each of them out until your tortured mind zeroes in one that promises “instant release from all wordly pains”.

And then you await, firmly embedded in a darkened basement room sans windows, sans any light and noise, biding your time.

Awaits too the bottle of poison.

You’ve been staring at it for the past three hours.

Will you, won’t you? Wish you knew the answer.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #shortstory #FFfPP
https://rogershipp.wordpress.com/2017/04/14/old-als-poison-ffftpp-2017-week-16/

OLD AL’S POISON: FFFTPP-2017: WEEK #16

https://rogershipp.wordpress.com/2017/04/14/old-als-poison-ffftpp-2017-week-16/

neelwrites/fiction/shortstory/FFfPP/200words/08/03/2017

HEART SURGERY

doc

By Neel Anil Panicker

“Dr James Ekka, the charge against you is that you slept with your patient. Is that true?”

Steering aside a mop of hair from his temples, Dr James peered at the four men and lone woman staring down at him from across the table.

They were the Medical Board; an exclusive clique, an omnipotent group that ran Lifeline Hospital.

‘I…was… am in love…’

‘Love? What crap? Is that why you sneaked into her room and stayed there for over five hours’, thundered Mr. Rangoonwalla, the seventy year old Owner-Chairman.

He winked at the lady to his left. Thirty-five-year old Dr. Brinda, Head, Orthopaedics, responded with a coquettish smile.

It was an open secret that she had dumped her architect husband within a month of joining and was now ‘close’ to Rangoonwalla.

‘The bastards. They want to finish off his career, that too over a patient who he had treated and cured of cancer, a woman he liked and well, loved.’

Rangoonwalla’s harsh voice cut severed his thoughts.

“ You are dismissed with immediate effect”.

As Dr James walked out of the hospital gates, his phone rang.

“Dear doc, I am in love. Will you cure me?”, a familiar voice inquired.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #shortstory #FFfPP #200words

WRITTEN FOR  https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2017/03/08/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2017-week-11/

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER– 2017

WEEK #11

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neelwrites/fiction/shortstory/FFfPP/03/03/2017

24/7 SERVICE

mice

By Neel Anil Panicker

I was at the hospital when night duty nurse Harleen called out my name.

“Mrs Mehta!, you got a call,” she shrieked, her voice shrill and dictatorial.

She left the receiver uncovered. “It is a phone call from Mrs Reena!”

Boy or girl, she said.

With Harleen breathing down my neck, I didn’t feel like saying that this time it were quadruplets and that I couldn’t do anything about it. I said I would call back later as the doctors were on their rounds and that I needed to be back on my bed.

I hung up.

Harleen said, “Your mom-in-law seems to be a tad upset”.

Once during my last visit here she’d barged into the room only to overhear me promising mom-in-law that there would be ‘no more_anymore’.

How many do you have? she’d asked.

Including this, eleven, I’d answered, embarrassed.

Birthing babies year after year was something that was bound to happen considering Mark just couldn’t stop sticking his rod into me almost every single waking hour.

Great, she’d said. Did you know my husband was also like him?

 I didn’t.

“Men will be men”, she said, adding, “but no more fucking around with life.”

©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #short story # 198 words

Written for FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFULL PRACTITIONER CHALLENGE HOSTED BY

https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2017/03/01/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2017-week-10/

The challenge for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner will open early Wednesday morning, March 1st. Allow the prompt to take you anywhere you want to go! (Limit your stories to 200 words.)

This challenge is open until 11:00 pm Friday night, March 10th, 2017.


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