neelwrites/nosheddingtears/sisentencestories/flash/fiction/shortstory/07/06/2018

NO SHEDDING TEARS

By Neel Anil Panicker
It took a while for her to understand but ever since his last indiscretion__ a quickie weekend fling couched as an urgent out of town meeting with
“some VIP clients who wanted to sign a big ticket deal__she had stopped to shed silent tears in the vain hope that he would he would mend his wayward ways and turn over a new leaf.
“Only those who feel guilty can ever hope to ride the path of Reformation,” was  the solemn pronouncement of Beatrice, her bestie and go to person for all times.
And she couldn’t have agreed more.
Except that one day, she, fuelled by righteous indignation and unbridled rage, decided to take matters into her own hands.

And so it was that one fine morning when hubby dear was lost to sleep, that she climbed on top of him and severed  his organ, the one that was that was the main culprit for his uncontrollable libido.

It’s another matter that she spent the rest of her yeas battling the forces of guilt, leading her wasted existence behind prison bars.
#neelanilpanicker #fiction #flash #instashorts #sixsentencestories #188words

It’s Six Sentence Story

CUE WORD:  SHED

https://girlieontheedge1.wordpress.com/2018/06/06/its-six-sentence-story-thursday-link-up-6/

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neelwrites/sleepingwiththeenemy/shortstory/fiction/flashfiction/instashorts/510words/02/06/2018

SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY

By Neel Anil Panicker

“Up around the corner” was his standard reply. That was how he stonewalled all her queries. That was the staccato reply she received every single time she asked him in the month or so they had known each other, having met rather serendipitously at the zoo.

“I love animals. They are a joy. Keep coming to watch them” were among his very first words.

On Monday too, just as the two kissed goodbye for the evening and left the comfy comforts of their love nest in Hotel Lakeview, she had asked the same question and received the same response.

“Up around the corner”.

This time she wasn’t satisfied. Call it sixth sense or a woman’s intuition, something from inside her said this needed some investigation.

And so she headed after him, following him as he climbed the incline, his thick leather boots producing metronomic chimes as they hit the rain washed asphalt.

She as careful to camouflage herself behind the tree lined balustrade every time he so much as half turned, mindful of not getting caught and then being accused of stalking him.

She didn’t have to wait for long and very soon he had reached the bend. Ahead, lay a small cobbled pathway and he disappeared down the lane.

Her curiosity now at its prime, she ducked under the branches of a massive peepal tree and surveyed the scene that was unfolding before her eyes.

Slicing through the evening mist filled dampness,  her eyes spotted her friend shaking hands with another person__a man__ a man whose face was all over the newspapers; a man whose rugged mug shot was on every single television screen for the past two weeks___Amir Raza, the dreaded Hizbul Mujahiddin terrorist who had escaped from Chennai Central Prison a fortnight ago.

As realization hit her she felt as if she were hit by a heavy boulder. Her head began to wobble and stars floated all around her.  She thought she would collapse. With great resolve she steadied herself and looked ahead.

The two were smiling, exchanging pleasantries; she even saw a small packet, covered in a brown manila envelope being exchanged. The other man, the terrorist, took it and then swiftly disappeared into the rocky landscape beyond.

And then she saw her ‘friend’, the man she had met and fallen in love and given her all under the course of a month, clamber up and then amble his way further up the hill.

She stood there, immobile and terror struck, as she watched him disappeared down the hill.

So this was it. She, Ananya Sarkar, a 23-year-old bright final year Masters student of Philosophy, and more worryingly, the only child of a sitting High Court judge was mixed up, even if inadvertently, with dreaded terrorists who were running from the law,; ruthless and vile men accused of killing several innocents.

She slumped to the ground and thereafter, for a long while, simply sat there, immobile, her brain a comatose, unable to fathom how she landed herself into such an elephantine mess.

#neelanilpanicker #fiction #flash #shortstory #510words #instashorts

Sunday Writing Prompt – Select a Heading

Up Around the Corner

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/05/27/sunday-writing-prompt-select-a-h

neelwrites/wait’sover/Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie/saturdaymix-doubletake/fiction/shortstory/12/05/2018

WAIT’S OVER

By Neel Anil Panicker

For days Inspector Sharma lay in wait, pitching his tent by the rivulet that abutted the foothills of the forest. There he lay in wait, biding his time, subsisting on the mercy of the trouts and shrimps that he would catch with the help of his improvised fishing rod__a long wooden rod sliced out of one of the several branches of the lone Cedar tree in the entire half a kilometre outgrowth.

And so continued the cat and mouse game, a game that he had been playing for almost over two decades now, a game that placed a high premium on certain sterling abstract virtues uppermost among them being patience and a hawk eyed observation.

The sun that rose on the first hour of Week Three of his vigil brought with it much needed cheer.

Peering into his long range telescopic lens, he sighted a movement, albeit a very slight one.

A shaggy looking man, his clothes a tatter, his eyes a daze, limped out from behind the woods and moved towards the stream.

As the pitiable vision drew closer, Inspector Sharma rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

He, the seeder, had succeeded in his mission to catch a most wanted criminal, also the killer of seven innocent persons.

Inspector Sharma waited for the forlorn figure to come in the cross hairs of his lens and then stepping out of the tent, he pointed his gun towards the fugitive shouting, “Time’s up, Sattar Bhai”.

#neelanilpanicker #fiction #shortstory #inspectorsharmacrimeseries #mindovermenagerie #homophones

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

Saturday Mix – Double Take, 12 May 2018

Our homophone sets this week are:

cedar – an evergreen tree
seeder – one who broadcasts seeds

and

days – more than one day
daze – to bewilder

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/05/12/saturday-mix-double-take-12-may-2018%EF%BB%BF/

neelwrites/easymoney/fiction/shortstory/100words/flashfictionchallenge/31/03/2018

MONEY IS SWEET HONEY

By Neel Anil Panicker

Professor Amritanand had done his job_ he had prepared the years’ Matriculation Mathematics paper.

Now, all he had to do was seal it in an envelope and lock it in the strong room.

He was about to do so when his mind sprang alive with the conversation of the previous evening.

The man over the telephone had said “Please hand over a duplicate question paper”.

‘That’s cheating’,  he had retorted, adding, ‘I won’t do it.’

“For Rs 30 lakhs you definitely would, Sir,”.

Professor Anand let his fingers fly.

He never was one to say no to money.

#neelanilpanicker #fiction #shortstory #CBSE #CHEATING #PAPER #LEAK

March 29: Flash Fiction Challenge

 

March 29: Flash Fiction Challenge

neelwrites/curtainsdown/sixsentencestories/fiction/shorttsory/13/03/2018

IT’S CURTAINS
By Neel Anil Panicker

It’s time we draw the curtain on this unfortunate episode of our lives hoping that we don’t commit the same mistakes that we did and…

“Hoping that we commit fresh ones, right John?”

Well, if what you have just made is a sarcastic remark then let me tell that I am unwilling to humour you with a response.

“Oh! is that so, my dear husband ‘on paper’ for twenty odd years?”

“Or should I say the real reason for your  current display of all encompassing  philosophical mindset is that little nymphomaniac that you have tucked away in a remote corner of your office?”

Looks like it’s  curtains on our marriage.
#neelanilpanicker #sixsentencestories #curtain #fiction #shortstory

neelwrites/balloon/flash/fiction/shortstory/100days/11/03/2018

SOME TLC

By NeelAnil Panicker

“You don’t look like you could cook.”

This was their second date and Raj had invited Anjali to his pad.

He smiled at her from across the kitchen table, the same impish curve she had noticed the first time they had ‘bumped’ at the coffee shop.

She noticed it__first, the hands, the hands, the way it disappeared under the drawer and it’s reappearance, in a jiffy
It was then that she saw it__the compact cake__a heart shaped balloon and inscribed on it, in red, “Happy Birthday, Esther.’

How could he…her mouth formed but no sound came forth. She was speechless!.

#NEELANILPANICKER #FICTION #SHORTSTORY #FLASH #INSTA #100WORDS #INSTASHORTS

March 8: Flash Fiction Challenge

March 8: Flash Fiction Challenge

neelwrites/thevoice/shortstory/187words/10/03/2018

THE VOICE

By Neel Anil Panicker

Mary’s suddenly felt the full weight of her over 80 kg body mass as her hands went limp and the legs gave way. Myriad images began to swim in her head and icicles of a slow moving pain began to shoot into her inner membranes, the pain increasing by the moment as if she were struck by a ten tonne truck.

Somehow she managed to plonk herself onto the corner bedroom sofa but in doing so the hot cup of tea that she held in her by now shivering hands slipped and fell onto the marble floor, shattering to pieces and exacerbating the heightened sense of anxiety and powerlessness that she felt at this moment.

It was then that the phone that stood daintily at the study table beside her sprang to life.

At first she didn’t hear it, and soon after when her scarred mind slowly awakened to its incessant rings, she turned around and lifted the cradle from its receiver.

“I knew you would turn hyper. I wanted you to” . The shrill voice on the other end was evil personified.

#neelanilpanicker #fiction #shortstory #instashorts

Creative Writing Prompt | Creative Writing | Flash Fiction | Writing Exercise | RachelPoli.com

Time To Write: Random Words 8 [Creative Writing Prompt]