neelwrites/takingoff/flashfictionforthepurposefulpractitioner/flashfiction/11/07/2018

FLYING OFF

flight-airport-airplane-plane-34631-pixel-photo

By Neel Anil Panicker

The closest she had been to an airport was when, once as a child, while being whisked yet one more time from one large city (she doesn’t recall which one) to another, she had craned her neck out of the moving car windows and sighted the twenty feet high barbed wire walls and above it a plane__pure white, large, bird like__swoop down from the skies and disappear under the thick shade of tall cinder trees that lined the perimiters of the airport.

Since then, the child in her, all of seven years, had carried that fleeting moment and imagined all sorts of fanciful things, dreaming and spinning colourful yarns about men people waltzing into airports, getting onto planes, and scouring the skies, touching the clouds, reaching for the skies, meeting lovely humans, aliens et al.

A decade a half later when her dream turned true and she actually got a chance to enter an airport, so zapped was she by the visions that scorched her eyes, that she spent an entire day roaming all around it, devouring every inch of the glitzy surroundings, soaking, imbibing, feeling and internalising for herself the diverse sensory perceptions that wove their magic around her.

The mall-like feel, the gleamy white tiled floorings that reflected happy human faces; the all glass sound less elevators that led to glitrzy upper floors neatly segerated into dining, shopping, relaxation bays__each single detail was up for grabs and she peered and pored over them including the fancy chairs, tables, lights, even the mega all gold sculpted figure of a heavily bejewelled glistening jet black elephant that stood bang at the centre of the atrium.

So engrossed was she with her discoveries that she even forgot the purpsoe of her visit and the job that she had come to perform.

The realisation brought her firmly back to terra firma. Involuntarily, and with a tinge of sadness, her hands slided down her thick brown skirt and felt the slight bulge in her panties.

The life of a drug carrier was never too easy.

#NEELANILPANICKER #FLASHFICTIONFORTHEPURPOSEFULWRITER #SHORTSTORY

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2018 WEEK #28

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https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2018/07/11/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2018-week-28/

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neelwrites/holesinthesky/flashfictionforthepuprposefulpractitioner/shortstory/200words/detectivechackocrimefictionseries/26/05/2018

A HAWK’S EYE

By Neel Anil Panicker

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MorgueFile April 62433e902

‘I think this person is the murderer.’

Akshay Rawat, senior inspector of Simla Police Station looked from across the table at his friend Detective Chacko.

The two, known to each other for the past seven years, had struck up a lively friendship ever since the famous detective from the coastal state of Kerala had helped nab an absconder, a notorious scamster, and handed him over to the Uttarakhand cop.

As a quid pro quo gesture, Chacko had come over to the hills and was partaking of the hospitality of his policeman buddy when the triple murders took place.

A woman and her two daughters were found dead inside their two storied bungalow just off Mall Road, the mile length tourist hot spot of Simla.

But this man was in Delhi at the time of the murders. See this photograph of him against the backdrop of the Red Fort. He says he clicked it on January 23, the day the murders took place.

Detective Chacko peered into the photo.

‘Look, the photo has him staring into the clouds. I have the weather report of that day. It says it was a clear sunny day with no clouds; leave alone nimbus formations’.

#neelanilpanicker #fiction #lashfictionforthe purposefulpractitioner #200words #insta #shortreads #shortstory

Written for

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2018: WEEK #21

https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2018/05/23/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2018-week-21/

 

neelwrites/heightenedtrouble/FFfPP/fiction/shortstory/inspectorsharmacrimeseries/205words/22/03/2018

TROUBLE FROM TOP

boats and bar

By Neel Anil Panicker

The view from the hill top hotel window was spectacular: a sea of blue and cutting through it, several high speed fibre glass boats choc-a-bloc with cheerful men, women and children__the flash of cameras adding an extra zing to the luminosity of the high beamed mercury vapour lamps that ricocheted off the rocks that walled all around.

Watching the panorama unfold through the periscope of his Nikon DSLR DS700, (a last minute requisition that the department had okayed, albeit a tad reluctantly), the merry unbuckling of human spirits; the rambunctious squeals and full throated laughters of the city dwellers who had converged this far, temporarily escaping from the hustle and bustle of everyday madness that was the bane of urban living, Senior Crime Branch Inspector Sharma momentarily forgot the real purpose of his visit as his senses soaked in the carnival atmosphere that permeated the azure skies.

A movement in the ground below caught his eye. His eyes narrowed and soon framed the figure: first just the silhouette___a vision in floating saffron, bare torso, large hairy arms___, and on closer examination, the tell tale hexagonal shaped fiery tongued dragon tattoo.

It’s him, the wily cop muttered. His quarry, the infamous ‘Butcher of Gorakhpur’, had arrived.

#neelanilpanicker #flashfictionforthepurposefulpractitioner #fiction #shortstory #205words

 

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2018: WEEK #12

https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2018/03/21/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2018-week-12/

cropped-ffpp1.jpg



FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2018

WEEK #12

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/

 

 

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.