December 7: Flash Fiction Challenge

December 7 Flash Fiction Challenge at Carrot Ranch @Charli_Mills

In 99 words (no more, no less) write that features a performance. You can interpret what is a performance any way the prompt leads you.

Hosted by


By Neel Anil Panicker

Two days, seven hours, thirty-one minutes and still counting. There’s no signs of the torture  ever coming to an end. From his secluded perch in the far right hand corner, I watch with eyes as dead as of a dodo’s at the ‘actors’ and their ‘performances’.

The powers that be had even thought out a name for this form of extreme sadism, grandly christening it as ‘ANNUAL SKILL UPLIFTMENT SESSION’.

My foot! The only skill upliftment was that the hapless trainees had by now learnt how to fall into deep slumber with their eyes split wide open.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #flashfiction #99words #training



FFfAW Challenge-Week of December 5, 2017

Hosted by Priceless Joy at



This week’s photo prompt is provided by Enisa. Thank you Enisa!

By Neel Anil Panicker

Inspector Sharma peeped in through the shattered glass panes.

A half eaten pizza, its edges smeared in blood, popped out of a Mcdonald’s take away box that rested on the plush seat covers.

The body lay slumped on the steering wheel, the hands loosened to the sides, the gun, a semi-automatic Colt, popping out of the jeans side pockets.

‘It looks like a gang war? Majid was a marked man.’

Inspector Sharma unburdened himself from the brand new Audi.

Why does this dimwit indulge his brain when he doesn’t have one.

“Pandey, arrange for the post-mortem immediately. Call forensics. I want every inch of space earched with a fine comb”.

‘Ok, Sir…sir…the cat…what do we do with it?’

Sharma turned around and looked at the front seat. She was still lost to the world.

“Don’t worry, she’s fine. She’s got many more lives to live”.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #FFfAW #fiction #flash #shortstory #145words



143rd Challenge

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Week of 11-28 through 12-04-2017

by Priceless Joy at


By Neel Anil Panicker

“Sir, I, I …me…I mean I was here…about to enter the lift when…”

Crime Branch Senior Inspector Yashwant Sharma looked through his rimless oval glasses at the bumbling figure in from of him and wondered not for the first time that evening whether the man in front of him could be the killer or worse, did he have it in him to be the killer.

His brain screamed a big ‘NO’.

The man was a shade under five feet and was blessed with a body shape that looked like a cross between a scraped off chicken bone and an half-formed mouse from a laboratory experiment gone horribly wrong.

The woman, an Amazonian near six feet, was found dead on the bedroom floor, strapped to a steel chair, her hands tied to the back with thick plastic rope, her face a mashed potato.

It looked like someone had stomped all over her. And there was no way this

grasshopper of a man, her husband, could have done this deed, the wily cop surmised.

If so, then who?

Did he pay someone to kill her?

If not, then who else?

Inspector Sharma’s detective brain turned into a kite straining to break off its harness.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #FFfAW #fiction #flashfiction #inspectorsharmacrimeseries






PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

by Neel Anil Panicker

Raphael rummaged through the attic drawer. He knew he had just about time before the police came.

Moth eaten files of long sold property deed facsimiles; half broken childhood toys; a long bladed steel knife of vintage origin that still carried slight traces of blood, a stark reminder of those halcyon decades when the much awaited weekend family sport was hunting down rabbits and wild boars.

Then he found it__ wedged between a headless Chinese doll and a much abused wicker basket lay the ring, Clare’s engagement ring, the one whose daughter he had just murdered.

©neelanilpanciker2017 #FF #fiction #flash #flashfiction #100words


Welcome to Week 94 of Three Line Tales.

Hosted by SONYA at


three line tales week 94: old pots in a sink

photo by Scott Umstattd via Unsplash


By Neel Anil Panicker

I wake up groggy eyed; last night’s indulgences stare down at me, half mocking, half pitying, unspooling in slow motion the debauchery of soiled existences.


The passion soaked proclamations of undying love; the neatly worded trope of cast iron truths; the early morning endlessly long surreal walks along barrens beaches; the midnight wanderings into the other’s heart and soul__all these and then some more eventually turn into deathly tombstones of that eternal falsehood called first love.


It takes time to sink in; by the time reality hits, you and everything around you has turned into a flotilla of orphaned memories.



Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

Photo Challenge #188

Hosted by the brilliant NEKNEERAJ




By Neel Anil Panicker

They were a perfect couple.

She, the danseuse, grace personified, beauty ala divine, the initiator of a million eclectic moves.

He, pianist par excellence, the music maker, symphonist; the one who wove magic with his fingers, her guru-cum-interlocutor.

There they would converge in global artsy hot spots, unleashing their collective brilliance; regaling and hooking one and all, one with her feet and face and other bodily contours; another with his nimble fingers__a royal regalia of magical splendor, mesmerizing and illuminating all lovers of arts and music.

The senses of all who were fortunate to watch and hear such divine display  raised to new esoteric levels.

Awestruck, they watched her every step and move, twist and turn as he strung music unheard of ever before, the resultant fusion evoking appreciative ooohs and aaahs from the connoisseurs, all crème de la crème, the movers and shakers of the art world.

It was all so perfect until one day he realized that she was dancing, but not to his tunes.

That day his music died; so did her art.

©neelanilpanciker2017 #fiction #shortstory #176words




now available on paperback at

on Kindle at

This debut coming of age ‘fictional memoir’ is a first person account of a middle aged family man Niladri Bose as he delves deep into his angst ridden childhood and early youth, and remembers horrific events and incidents involving close family members, the death of a elder sibling, the loss and subsequent trauma sending him on a downward spiral that sees his life’s trajectory go off the rails. Individual chapters thereon chart in minute detail the various twists and turns his deeply scarred life takes as he finds and loses all that is dear to him. The no holds barred vivid first person account of the protagonist;s life who has now become a rolling stone and his travails through diverse cities and professions is filled chock-a-block with roller coaster emotions ranging from love, lust, anger, jealousy, loss, despair et al all building up to a grand climax where he revisits the horrors of the past. It ends with the protagonist coming face to face with a n ugly truth that finally sees him burying the demons of his past and moving towards a brand new life. It’s a moving saga of love, lust, and romance, of lost ambitions and a once beautiful soul getting lost in the cesspool of life’s harsh realities as seen through the eyes of a typical middle class Indian boy battling Herculean odds as he finally turns around as he finally discovers the peace, love and happiness that he was seeking all his life. #pentopublish2017