Sunday Photo Fiction – August 6th 2017

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12 J Hardy Carroll 06 August 2017

By Neel Anil Panicker

Inspector Singh looked across the street to the red bricked boxed row of apartments; small pint sized ‘hole in the wall’ residential flats.

It was a lower middle class suburb at the northern end of the urban sprawl that is Kolkata__a largely peaceful Muslim majority area barring the occasional street skirmishes come the month of Ramzan.

He turned his gaze to the street below. Parked were bikes and cars, mostly hatchbacks, the odd SUVs too; clothes hung out of balconies; mothers were admonishing their young ones, pleading, cajoling, a few even warning them  to head back home, signalling end of playtime__a regular evening not unlike one that plays out in any Indian suburb.

“How on earth could this place turn into a terrorist hub,”? pondered Inspector Singh as he relayed in his mind the message that had flashed in the Special Crime Branch internal website.

Marked ‘Private & For Your Eyes Only’, the colour coded message read,

Three dreaded terrorists, suspected to be of Pakistani origin and fully armed, are believed to be holed up in Arya Nagar. Warning: A deadly Mumbai style attack expected.”

A mere fifty metres ahead, the sound of machine guns blasted Inspector Singh’s ears.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #SPF #fiction #inspectorysharmaseries#astreetinflames#199words



Hosted by the super wonderful Rochelle at

For other wonderful entries click on the blue frog below:


PHOTO PROMPT © Claire Sheldon


By Neel Anil Panicker

 ‘Time of death: Between 7 and 8 am, Saturday, April 03, 2016.

Slow death, probably bled for about twenty minutes. 

Cause of death: Perforation of jugular veins; rupturing of carotid arteries.

Cause: Insertion of foreign body, not more than 1 mm diameter.’

Inspector Sharma mulled over the forensic report.

A young woman was found dead in a 5-star hotel room.

There were zero witnesses. The CCTV images captured nothing suspicious except…

Except what?

Sharma racked his brains as he blew smoke rings into the air.

Minutes later, his eyes lit up and he barked, “Yadav, get me a paper clip.”

©neelanilpanicker2017 #FF #fiction #100words


Written for

100 Word Wednesday: Week 23

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What’s Cooking?


By Neel Anil Panicker

 ‘Chicken chops. Try it. I tell you, it’s absolutely lip smacking, Sir.’

Inspector Sharma squirmed, grunted, and all but hurled invectives into the phone.

With great difficulty he restrained himself.

Informers were a very valuable cog in the wheel of police detective work.

“Gullu, I’ll try it out for sure. But first tell me what you know about Pearl Diner and how is it linked to the double murders?”

The voice on the other end fell silent.

After what seemed an eternity, he heard the words,

‘Name’s Joseph. Waits tables there. He’s your man. Will lead you to the murderer.’

©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #100wordwednesday




Six sentences,  any genre, link thurs a.m. and hop, link and hop…


This week’s cue is LINK


By Neel Anil Panicker

Inspector Sharma moved away from the dinner table and was now intently studying a Raja Verma nude oil painting mounted on the walls just above the liquor cabinet, desperately trying to decipher the inexorable link between the kings of yore and their ever pliant subjects.

“What were you doing between the ten and eleven on Sunday night when the murders are believed to have been committed”?

The question seemed to have caught Ram Bahadur by surprise and a shiver of fear ran down his spine; his already droopy old man’s eyes further wilting under the penetrative gaze of the senior cop.

‘I…I…was here Sir, very much here, serving food to Gulati Sir and Madam.’

The air around the curvaceous hall suddenly grew dense as a wry smile formed around Inspector Sharma’s whisker-ringed lips.

The postmortem report had categorically mentioned the Gulatis had not eaten a single morsel of food for at least six hours prior to their violent deaths.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #sixlinetales #fiction  #158words



16 June 2017


PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

By Neel Anil Panicker

As the siren dripping police car screeched to a halt near the white marbled hotel entrance, the bumble bee of television cameras swooped down on it, catching off guard its lone occupant Inspector Sharma even as he emerged out of his air-conditioned cocoon into the mid-June summer madness that had become Kolkata.

“Not now” he thundered, as he hacked his way past the thick foliage of thick skinned news sniffing journos and their protruding microphones, taking the lift to the tenth floor, to room number 110, where awaiting him were three dismembered bodies including one of a three-month-old baby girl.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction  #FF #100words  



By Neel Anil Panicker

Inspector Sharma pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and covered his mouth.

The effort proved to be in vain. The invasive stench wriggled out of half hidden creeks and crevices edging past rocky outgrowths and mated with other equally repulsive odours.

A second more here and Inspector Sharma knew he would be a dead man; killed, quite ironically, not by a criminal’s .303 bullet but by the vagaries of Nature.

Sharp police eyes took in the details: Male, around 35, five feet nine, well built, expensive white crepe shirt, matching trousers, pure leather pointed brown shoes, gold ring on the left index finger, most likely married, no visible external injuries.

Inspector Sharma scratched his head.

A suicide? In the middle of the forest? Miles from civilization? Who would come this far to kill himself?

Or, is it a murder? Killed elsewhere, body dumped here?

But then his informer had said…

It was then that he heard it, a slight rustling of the leaves behind him. By the time he turned around it was too late.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #FFfAW #fiction #shortstory #175words


FFfAW Challenge-Week of June 6, 2017