Friday Foto Fiction Photo Prompt

By Neel Anil Panicker

‘You don’t drink!’ It was less of a question, but more of an affront.

To the crowd who were hovering around her, by denying herself the pleasures of a drink or two, she stood out as an oddity.

Harish offered a life saver.

“Hey Sharmi, how about a Margarita. Or maybe, for starters a mocktail__ a Blood Orange Gin and Tonic? Trust me, the sweet and tarty flavour is going to enliven your mood.”

‘I don’t…but then…’

Sharmistha looked over at Harish, and nodded her approval.

A nice guy, she thought to herself. Nice but gullible, like all the others had been.

She looked around at the hall full of bankers. They were all enjoying themselves, their cheerful banter and infectious laughter resonating all around.

I better stick to my small town innocent persona if I intend to loot this crowd set of city slick bankers off all their money, she mused.


Flash Fiction Writing Prompt – #FridayFotoFiction March 23 –March 26 Prompt




Flash Fiction Writing Challenge – #FridayFotoFiction Nov 10-Nov15 Prompt

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#FridayFotoFiction prompt


By Neel Anil Panicker

Bloody luck, what a day for the lift to play truant, Abdul muttered under his breath.

His hands slid down and adjusted the overhang around his waist.

A slow smile creased his lips as he made past the security gates.

The lone guard slumped on the rickety chair was lost to the world.

Abdul quickly glanced past him at the oblong Titan wall clock that clung to the wall.

Five past 12. The shift would change in another ten minutes. The next guard was ex-army, a man with an overdeveloped sense of duty, a martinet who asked umpteen questions, possessed X-ray scanner eyes to boot.

Abdul cupped the tool kit. His fingers slid past the torch, the wrench and settled on the pipe cutter.

He new his job well; knew he didn’t have time to kill; knew he had just about time to kill.

He hurried up the steps.




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By Neel Anil Panicker

He had stepped out of his one room second floor hideout off the dingy lanes bordering Outram Lines wearing a crispy white shirt topped with a greyish black suit, a maroon tie and a pair of black shoes adding to the sartorial finnesse.

Then, he had walked towards the tube and taken the 11: 53 from Barakhamba Station and alighted at Connaught Place. Threafter, he had checked out of Gate No. 8 and proceeded towards Starbucks, outside which he now waited, seated on a green coloured wooden bench, the third from the right, the one that looked towards the imposing façade of the Royal Bank of Scotland  across the busy street. From behind dark Ray Ban glasses, his hawkish eyes  bored into the inside pages of the day’s city edition of The Financial Express.

So far he had followed all instructions to a T.

Soon it would be time to pull off the largest bank heist of the century.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #Fridayfotofiction #shortstory #159words


#FridayFotoFiction Sep 8-13 Prompt

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fiction Writing Friday Foto Fiction

By Neel Anil Panicker

He raised his hands to cover his face but the shutterbugs outsmarted him, capturing his shaggy, crestfallen visage, their high resolution lenses picking out every single fibre and tissue, pore and crease, capturing for posterity his misery and fall from grace.

He felt like being fed to the vultures, a piece of meat served on a platter for the pleasurable  consumption of voyeuristic masses.

The very same masses who even barely a day ago bowed their heads in deference and paid obeisance to him at his palatial ashram while he showered them with his benevolence from atop his majestic golden throne, surrounded, fanned and fawned by a never ending bevy of bewitching beauties. ‘Sadhvis’, he liked to call them in public.

The truth lay bare when one of them spilled the beans on his ‘nocturnal’ activities.

The wheels of fortune had turned fully for Baba Furqan Bengali whose new address read ‘Prisoner No. 537, Tihar Jail’.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #fridayfotofiction #shortstory


#FridayFotoFiction Aug 25-30 Prompt

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Friday Foto FIction Prompt

By Neel Anil Panicker

“What about the books? Are you selling them too?”, the raddiwallah gruffly asked her.

Asha had spent almost an entire day clearing the attic.

She glanced at the books; a pile of short stories, the ones which her husband had accumulated back in the days when he served the Army.

“Why don’t you read them? You will get lost in a magical new world,” he had often chided her, knowing fully well her reluctance for the written word.

‘No, I don’t need them. My life is magical enough,’ had been her stock reply.

But now in the autumn of her life, with hubby dear long dead, and the kids all flown the nest,

the magic had long gone from her life.

‘No, I will not sell the books,” she resolved.

Thus commenced her love affair with books. It soon led to another discovery.

Unlike human bonds of love she had experienced so far, the romance with books was of a different level. It was undemanding and unconditional.

For the first time in seventy years, Asha’s feet were not on earth; she had discovered heaven.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #fridayfotofiction


99 not out

By Neel Anil Panicker

“So, tell me, when did our school ‘Mister Studious’ turn into a skirt chaser?”

“Right after college, six months after father died and, within an hour of landing in New York.”

Nancy released the pebble from her hands. The waters below formed into a small puddle.

“Hmm! that sounds like some real dramatic stuff, isn’t it?”

“Yeah! Three years, two continents, seven countries, and…99 girls”

“You missed out on a well deserved century, though.”

“I ran out of partners…and you?”

“Same story, stuck at 99.”

Sharad looked into her eyes and said,

“Come, let’s complete our centuries”.

Nancy couldn’t agree more.




#FridayFotoFiction #Week6


How to participate in #FridayFotoFiction
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Follow @twinklingtina & @Mayuri6 on Twitter and wait for the prompt
Write a 100 Word story relevant to the photo prompt
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By  Neel Anil Panicker

The phone beeped.


With Harsh in the room, and on leave for the next two days, I knew I couldn’t  just pick up the phone and say to forget it.

It beeped again.

Harsh said: “Looks like someone’s very desperate.”

He had seen me on the phone arguing the other day.

What’s the matter” he’d asked.

Someone wants to sell his car, I’d answered, slyly.

He had seen me flipping through car mags of late.

Careful, he’d said. Check mileage and pick up, he added.

I knew what both meant.

“I will”, I said, and walked out, the phone in my hand.

word count: 103



Tina Basu