neelwrites/green/FFfAW/195/fiction/27/06/2017

FFfAW Challenge-Week of June 27, 2017

Hosted at https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2017/06/26/fffaw-challenge-week-of-june-27-2017/

WELCOME !

121st Challenge

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Week of 06-27 through 07-03-2017

For more such fantastic  stories please click on the blue frog below:

GO GREEN WITH ENVY  

By Neel Anil Panicker

All his life Uncle Prasad had said yes, green signalling just about everything; consequences be dammed.

And so it was that at age 4 he joined his cousins and pulled off the biggest heist of the time: stealing bagfuls of the finest Alphonso mangoes from the sprawling orchard of the village headman.

At 7 he was playing courier boy, passing over love psalms between hormone high Romeos and Cupid struck Juliets; by 9 taking off to the hills nearby for a night out with the Big Boys.

At 13, he came perilously close to being shot dead from an alert guard’s rifle while his ‘friends’ ran helter skelter after a bank hold-up gone horribly wrong.

At 16, he was carrying a gun, because that’s what all his peers were carrying.

But then all that’s in the past.

Today, half a century later, he’s jumped ahead, changed, turned respectable, married, even become proud grandfather  to six.

But then, at times he wants to go back to when he was 6 or 7, join his buddies to steal mangoes, flirt with girls twice his age, and maybe rob a bank or two.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #FFfAW #fiction  #195

neelwrites/inhiding/spf/fiction/200words/26/06/2017

Sunday Photo Fiction – June 25th 2017

get the InLinkz code

Written for SUNDAY PHOTO FICTION CHALLENGE HOSTED AT

https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2017/06/25/sunday-photo-fiction-june-25th-2017/

IN HIDING

10 Eric Wicklund 25 June 2017

© Eric Wicklund

By Neel Anil Panicker

For the first time in his two decade long police career, Inspector Akhtar Shameem of Jammu & Kashmir Special Crime Unit felt what it was like to be on the other side of the law.

The tables had turned__the cop had become the criminal, or so it seemed.

Holed up in his current hideout__an abandoned timber factory located some fifteen miles off Srinagar Highway, and barely a few thousand meters from the Pakistan border, the middle-aged cop went over the events of the previous few weeks.

He had been investigating a drug seizure case a month ago when he stumbled upon the involvement of two prominent legislators.

On digging further, he unearthed a multi-billion dollar drug cartel whose tentacles spread across the border was run by Shah Maqsood Gilani, the Chief Minister’s son.

Soon he had had visitors_ machine gun wielding men who riddled his house with bullets, (luckily his wife and two children were at his in-law’s for a family wedding); strange men who made vile threats over the phone and hurled bombs at his police station.

Inspector Shameem checked his watch. 12.35 pm. It was time to make his move.

His contact Haider would be waiting, as promised.

©neelanilpanciker2017  #SPF #200words

neelwrites/pitcairn/whatpegmansaw/historicalfiction/175/25/06/2017

WHAT PEGMAN SAW

Pitcairn Islands, British Overseas Territory

Pitcairn Islands, British Overseas Territory

Today Pegman takes us to the Pitcairn Islands, British Overseas Territory.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

EAT, LOVE & MAKE BABIES   

(GENRE: HISTORICAL FICTION)

Image result for pitcairn mayor trial

By Neel Anil Panicker

Hot molten rage seared through Len Brown’s veins. His age ravaged face began to contort; soon his legs turned limp and his vision blurred.

It looked any moment he would suffer a paralytic attack.

The septuagenarian steadied himself against the stands as Judge Malcolm Hartford’s gravel voice ricocheted off the domed walls of the makeshift courtroom.

“I hereby pronounce the accused guilty of six charges of under age sex.”

 

Outside, a motley crowd listened to a doughty woman’s harangue.

“This should never have taken place,” she thundered. “The Pitcairns have been bullied. Ours is a sex culture. It’s consensual. We sleep, eat, drink, and cohabitate with our own, age be dammed!”

Thrusting her face towards the TV cameras, she bellowed, “How else would two men, 11 women, and a young girl have survived and grown to 50 and beyond? Yes, we share our men, for our comfort, for procreation, for survival. And fuck the goddammed all knowing prudes who throw us the rule book, quote the Scriptures, and decide upon what’s moral and what’s not.”

©neelanilpanicker2017 #whatpegmansaw  #historical fiction  #175words

BACKGROUND:

Pitcairn sexual assault trial of 2004

On 30 September 2004, seven men living on Pitcairn Island (including Steve Christian, the mayor, and representing a third of the male population of the island) went on trial facing 55 charges relating to sexual offences. On 24 October, all but one of the defendants were found guilty on at least some of the charges.[1][2][3] Another six men living abroad, including Shawn Christian, the current mayor of Pitcairn, were tried on 41 charges in a separate trial in Auckland, New Zealand, in 2005.

 

 

 

neelwrites/harbour/FF/100words/23/06/2017

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by the queen of flash fiction the wonderful Rochelle at https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/06/21/23-june-2017/

BLOWN OFF

Photo Copyright: Ted Strutz

By Neel Anil Panicker

Duffel bag in hand, Ronnie worms his way towards the ramp.

Above the sun beams its pride on his freckled face while the westerly winds shamelessly flirt with his flock of golden brown locks.

A group of teenage girls wriggle past him__flashing, fluttering, thrusting whatever it is they believe makes men go bonkers.

Unmindful, Ronnie walks past Customs and lines up to enter the ferry.

That’s when he spots her.

Long luxuriant hair, high cheek bones, angelic face, killer smile et al.

The ships’s horns blast the final call.

Smiling, he steps in.

It’s going to be some journey.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #FF #100words

neelwrites/tunnel/thursdayphotoprompt/250words/22/06/2017

Thursday photo prompt – The tunnel – #writephoto

Hosted by the talent Sue Vincent at https://scvincent.com/2017/06/22/thursday-photo-prompt-the-tunnel-writephoto/

Man caught in the light at the end of the tunnel

THE TUNNEL

By Neel Anil Panicker

Nature’s elements hold sway here, man a mere slave to them, his senses long gone

senseless.

Raghav cocks his ears against the dank walls but hears nothing. He extricates his hands from the folds of his back, towards what he believes is his face.

Nothingness stares back at him.

It was as if he were gone blind, his eyeballs mere black dots surrounded by blacker contours.

Something slithers around his feet. Cutting through the jaggedness and the overall dampness, he feels a slight sensation.

Something, he has no means of knowing what that could be, crawls its way up his ankles.

Furiously, his hands jab out at the intruder that’s worming up through the folds of his baggy shorts.

The effort’s disturbed, as all of a sudden, the feeling disappears, as if by magic.

Mystified, his logical brain warns him there is no such thing as magic. That what he’s experiencing is stark life, unfolding, albeit in slow motion, set to rhythmic music by the metronomic beats of his crazily palpitating heart.

It was then that cold fear envelops him. His eyes stab into the darkness; his senses in full vigil.

He feels a deep, searing despair as if he were an utterly defenceless rabbit, caught by its neck and gasping through the very last breaths of life; its predator, a ferocious fox sinking its sharp as nails teeth deep into soft skin, tearing asunder the delicate fabric of life.

The icicles of his brain scream out one word: death.

©neelanilpanciker2017 #tunnel #thursdayphotoprompt #250words

neelwrites/FFfAW/silverlining/175/20/06/2017

FFfAW Challenge-Week of June 20, 2017

Hosted by PJ at https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2017/06/19/fffaw-challenge-week-of-june-20-2017/

A Silver Lining

By Neel Anil Panicker

An exasperated Raghav stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut, striding like a raging bull towards the balcony.

There, as the cold blast of the nightly air blew in from the sea, he arched his head upwards towards the sky.

Something that he always did; the sky being his blanket, his guardian angel, omniscient and ever protective.

He needed its solace, especially now, when his mind was a maze, fast spiralling into the dark dungeons of uncertainty.

His eyes scanned the blue swathe above him.  The cold grey sky seemed un-obliging; a tumultuous, ragged cloud that bellowed and thundered; a precursor to dust storms, lightning and torrential rains.

Unfazed, Raghav kept the faith amidst the howling of the winds, the flashes of forked lightning and the persistent claps of thunder.

His efforts paid off, as miraculously the skies changed hue, the clouds bid adieu, and as if on cue, the stratosphere lit up a bright red.

And with that realisation dawned__Sheena was right, he was wrong.

He turned back, pledging to make amends.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #FFfAW #fiction #175words

neelwrites/spf/vultures/198/20/06/2017

Sunday Photo Fiction – June 18th 2017

https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2017/06/18/sunday-photo-fiction-june-18th-2017/

DROPPING DEAD FROM THE SKIES

203 06 June 18th 2017

By Neel Anil Panicker

Vetenarian surgeon Dr Inderjeet Saini bent down on his knees and examined the bird.

His nimble fingers felt its heart under the white backed wings.

It was a wasteful exercise.

The juvenile griffon had been dead for over five hours.

“Renal failure,” he pronounced, adding “A slow and painful death.”

Standing next to him, Dr Rustom Naoroji, the well known ornithologist and his colleague from the Institute of Avian Studies, nodded his head sadly.

“That’s Number 76, and this is only in just one district. One more innocent life sacrificed at the altar of man’s unbridled greed,” he said as two ambled back to their camp located on the outskirts of Khelgaon, a nondescript village in rural Maharashtra famous for its extensive dairy farm activities.

The two bird lovers knew what that meant. In the last two years alone, the number of vultures that had died after consuming the carcasses of cattle had risen to 1258, a staggering rise of 64 per cent.

The dead cattle were administered highly harmful painkillers, something that would make them work longer hours.

However, there was something else that worried Dr Naoroji.

It was what would happen to him once he died.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #SPF #fiction  #198words

P.S. The death of vultures is a matter of grave concern for the Parsi community who follow the practice of leaving their dead in the Tower of Silence to be consumed by vultures.