FRIDAY FICTIONEERS hosted by the prima donna of short fiction Rochelle at

18 August 2017


(genre: historical fiction)

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


By Neel Anil Panicker

A week ago Asha watched on TV the heart wrenching visuals of countless Blue Whales swept ashore, their glistening gargantuan lifeless forms on the sandy ocean bed.

Quite a few had turned this vista into a photo-op, clicking selfies while poking, nudging, pricking at the creatures in a misplaced show of braggadocio.

Watching the horrific grainy images, Asha had dropped more than a tear,

her heart breaking out in silent prayers for the departed.

A week later it was revenge time; the blue whales played a game on her only son.

A mother paid the price for a son’s hubris.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #FF #fiction #she’sgottheblues #100words


Blue Whale (game)

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The Blue Whale Game (RussianСиний кит, Siniy kit) also “Blue Whale Challenge”, is an Internet “game” that is claimed to exist in several countries. The game allegedly consists of a series of tasks assigned to players by administrators during a 50-day period, with the final challenge requiring the player to commit suicide.[1][2] The term “Blue Whale” comes from the phenomenon of beached whales, which is linked to suicide.

Blue Whale began in Russia in 2013 with “F57”, one of the names of the so-called “death group” of the VKontaktesocial network,[3] and allegedly caused its first suicide in 2015.[4][5] Philipp Budeikin, a former psychology student who was expelled from his university, claimed that he invented the game. Budeikin stated that his purpose was to “clean” the society by pushing to suicide those he deemed as having no value.[



Hosted by the charming Rochelle at




By Neel Anil Panicker

“Hmm! That’s a really big rock”, exclaimed Aruna with barely concealed envy.

That instantly lit up Vaishali’s face; a face one of her several admirers had likened to a ‘Leonardo Da Vinci portrait’.

‘The Mona Lisa itself’, had gushed someone else.

Looking over the shoulders of her bestie, Vaishali surveyed the happy, smiling visages around her.

The movers and shakers of Kolkata had descended this cool Sunday evening to celebrate her betrothal to the Prince of Kolkata.

Vaishali eyed her engagement ring and sighed.

Alas! none would be there when her Prince would turn pauper.

Least of all, she.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #FF #99words


Something’s smelly

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

By Neel Anil Panicker

It began as a single red rose.

Delivered to her workstation; initially, only on Mondays, and then on every other day, and finally, every single day.

All placed inwards, as if the benefactor were aware of the seating arrangement of the beneficiary; the flowers, fresh and trimmed to perfection were delivered with metronomic precision within a measly thirty seconds, the time that it took for Esther to grab a cup of espresso from the office corner.

It’s only when the largesse began arriving at her doorsteps and came wrapped around

a pair of surgical blades that cold fear set in.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #FF #fiction #something’ssmelly #100words



Friday Fictioneers

 Hosted by the charmingly talented grand doyenne of flash fiction Rochelle


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PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

By Neel Anil Panicker


 “You calling from jail?”

From my cell. You see, I don’t break my promises.

“But isn’t that risky? Also illegal? I mean you could get caught.”

I’m bowled. It’s much riskier wooing the only child of an underworld don, one who is infamous for roasting alive his enemies in a hot oil tumbler.

“My dad has never gone to jail.”

Maybe, but he sure can send me to hell.

“I will join you.”

Where? In hell?

“No stupid. In heaven. We’ll make heaven, our own heaven on this Earth.”

‘You are such a sweet talker.’

“And you are a smooth operator.”

(neelanilpanciker2017 #FF #fiction #shortstory #100words




Three Line Tales, Week 77

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three line tales week 77: a pink jellyfish

photo by Pan Da Chuan via Unsplash

By Neel Anil Panicker

Marriage, for Esther, far from the idyllic paradise that she had dreamt it to be, turned out to be a  monumental disaster, what with every waking hour of hers metamorphosing into a never ending nightmare.

Not a moment passed without her sadistic shark of a husband sinking his blood thirsty flesh and chomping his unevenly large teeth into her porcelain china slender frame.

It was only when the extent of his atrocities hit the roof that she gathered courage to swim upstream and make friends with sea loving homo sapiens who were only too eager to wield their spears and put to eternal sleep the brute her hubby had turned out to be.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #3LineTales #jellyfish #fiction #113words


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PHOTO PROMPT © Kent Bonham

By Neel Anil Panicker

“It will take us places,” he had said, insisting we buy a car.

I had my doubts, though.

The grocer’s was a hop, skip and jump away.

Movies we didn’t dig.


Whoever had the time for others in this day and age.

‘For what then?’ I had countered.

“For those lazy Sundays_ just you, me and the sandy beach,” he persisted, scratching his salt and pepper beard, a half hesitant smile playing on his lips, the same that he employed when seducing me some half a century ago.

Car’s on the shed. Lying idle. He’s gone places, for sure.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #FF #fiction #100words



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By Neel Anil Panicker

As a child she lusted for gifts.

She would peep in through pigeonhole slits, past the glass sharded high walls of her landlord’s palatial villa, careful not to hurt her eyes, and salivate at the merriment inside.

Her heart would yearn for the gorgeous gifts that hung from low lying branches of the heavily bedecked Christmas tree.

Envious eyes would watch her landlord’s daughters as they happily ran around the football sized garden, singing soulful carols, their tiny hands holding on to delectable goodies.

It was a life, a wonderment she could only dream about, never ever aspire to experience.

©neelanilpanciker2017 #fiction #FF #100 #achild’sfantasy