neelwrites/loveisintheasir/kite/threelinetales/100wordswednesday/fiction/shortstory/16/02/2018

SHORT STORY/FICTION

LOVE IS IN THE AIR

three line tales, week 107: diaries, roses and bobbins with sewing thread

 

By Neel Anil Panicker

All summer he was just a kite flyer, one more among several other ten year olds whose psychedelic kites soared the skies.

Until one day when the winds of change blew.

As his nimble hands expertly manoeuvred the thread, he looked to his left.

It was then that he saw her.

She was on the opposite terrace, reading a book.

She lifted her head and spotted him spotting her.

From that moment the controls switched.

She had taken over the steering wheel of his life, their lives, for the next sixty odd years.

Thereafter, it was roses all the way.

©neelanilpanicker2018 #fiction #flash #100words #kiteflyer

Three Line Tales, Week 107

Hosted by SONYA at https://only100words.xyz/2018/02/15/three-line-tales-week-107/

LINKS TO MY AMAZON BESTSELLER DEBUT NOVEL  “WHEN LIFE THROWS THOSE

CURVE BALLS”

 

 

LINKS TO MY AMAZON BESTSELLER DEBUT NOVEL  “WHEN LIFE THROWS THOSE

CURVE BALLS”

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neelwrites/poem/haiku/valentine/13/02/2018

Air’s windswept with love

Sea of hearts floats all over

Dive in and enjoy.

***

Hearts go wild

emotions collide

love turns blind.

***

Heart”s on a flutter

She awaits her Valentine,

Hopeful of his ring.

***

Lonely heart

craves for love’s embrace

shower grace.

vaal***

(c)neelanilpanicker2018 #poem #haiku #love #valentine

LINKS TO MY AMAZON BESTSELLER DEBUT NOVEL  “WHEN LIFE THROWS THOSE

CURVE BALLS”

 

neelwrites/poem/tanka/09/02/2018

Stumbles he through life
Searches he in every eye
remnants of his long  lost love
betrayal comes clothed in guise
slaying loves sweet innocence.

(c)2018neelanilpanicker #poem #tanka

 

neelwrites/stuntedgrowth/fiction/fridayfictioneers/100words/01/02/2018

STUNTED GROWTH

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

By Neel Anil Panicker

‘Son, see that tree over there?’

“That’s barely a tree, Dad.”

‘Son, that’s the work of man. Evil men. Precisely, a few evil men.’

“Dad, what do they want?”

‘Son, they want to claim the tree for themselves, roots and all. Each warring group has laid claim to its ownership.’

“But dad, what’s there to fight over a tree? A tree that gives us fruits and flowers, provides shelter, and even supplies us with wood?”

‘Exactly my son, but try telling that to grown up men.’

“Dad, if this is what grownups do then I’m better off remaining a child.”

(C)NEELANILPANICKER2018

Hosted  BY ROCHELLEWISOFF

at

2 February 2018

neelwrites/noman’sland/thursdayphotoprompt/#writephoto/31/01/2018

NO MAN’S LAND

By Neel Anil Panicker

It is a couple of hours after midnight, that still born hour when the entire world and its backyard have taken a sabbatical; that  pregnant pause, that briefest of brief interludes before the deluge begins all over again, before the rambunctious merry go round wheels of life start all over again, spinning forth in a furious abandon__ entrapping man, woman, and all manner of being in its wondrous cosmic cycle.

From the edges, Robin stares at the never ending carpet of blue that spreads out all around him. He cranes his neck and bores his eyes at the waters below. His face has come alive in a flotilla of little concentric rings ala a young girl’s floral dress as it swings and sways around in gay abandon.

For an interminably long time Abdul stands there, his frail body transfixed to terra firma, his dog eared mind in limbo.

Soon after, the memories came hurtling by much like a not so welcome guest that’s long overstayed one’s hospitality.

An oft repeated scene, albeit in painful slow motion, plays out in his mindscape. There he is, a young boy, rail-thin, the bones jutting out like broken down bamboo shoots from around his waists, an apology of a khaki half pant wrapped around them, his hands, equally frail and trembling, desperately holding on to his mother’s fingers as the two, along with his father and his two elders brothers and a sister and a host of others, all relatives and cousins and people from his village run forth, ducking and dipping as all around them ring the thunderous blast of gun shots. A scream and a thud follow. Someone’s fallen, the ground under his feet turns a carpet of red. The last words he hears before he blanks out are, ”Kill them all, bloody immigrants”.

©neelanilpanciker2018 #fiction #ThursdayPhotoPrompt #shortstory

Thursday photo prompt – Blue #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt – Blue #writephoto

neelwrites/brightaslight/FFfAW/shortstory/175words/30/01/2018

BRIGHT AS LIGHT

By Neel Anil Panicker

Father, I feel lost, of no use. My life has turned pitch dark and shorn of all light.

“That’s not the case, my son. There’s light at the end of the tunnel?”

Father, but I see no tunnel, no light? Where is it?

“Son, you are mistaken. Look inside you and you’ll find it.”

Father, if what you say is true, how do we discover it?

“Faith, son, faith. For that to happen you need to keep faith, have trust, believe in yourself, believe in the munificence of the Almighty who trusted you and gifted you the light. Have faith and the tunnel will find you. It is within you, within each one of us; eternally lit, forever guiding our path, hacking through the dark underbelly of our lives and illuminating it with its brilliance.”

How would we know we have reached it?

“You will not know it but you will feel it. Your entire being will glow with an inner radiance. You will feel happy as if you have attained enlightenment aka Gautam Buddha.”

©neelanilpanciker2018 #fiction #shorttsory #FFfAW #175WORDS

FFfAW Challenge-Week of January 30, 2018

Hosted by Priceless Joy at https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2018/01/29/fffaw-challenge-week-of-january-30-2018/

neelwrites/vowtohow!/sundayphotofiction/shortstory/29/01/2018

VOW TO HOW!

20 Eric Wicklund January 28th 2018

© Eric Wicklund

By Neel Anil Panicker

The vows, the marriage vows, the one the two had uttered, every single word affirmed loud and clear, its intonation and enunciation, tone, pitch and volume, the modulation, inflection and elucidation of every single syllabic sound perfect to a T, all merrily cheered by every one of the select gathering of cherished friends and relatives as well as the entire paraphernalia of uncles, aunts, cousins et al __the penumbra of well wishers and gatherers who had come to bless the newly weds at the local church__the momentous event flashed past Jennifer’s mind as a sepia tinged memory that unfolded in ultra slow motion ala a long drawn TV soap opera.

How divinely graceful did she look as the pastor clasped their hands__ hers and Benny’s__ solemnly pronouncing them man and wife.

Alas! The euphoria lasted exactly six years. Six blissful years when hubby dear worshiped the ground she walked on, treating her like a queen, loving and caring for her to the hilt, passionately fulfilling every single need, want, and desire that she had ever nurtured in her bosom.

Then came the day when she became persona non grata; turned into just another discarded woman, left to drown herself in sorrow.

(C)NEELANILPANICKER2018 #FICTION #SUNDAYPHOTOFICTION #SHORTSTORY #200WORDS

Sunday Photo Fiction – January 28th 2018

Hosted at https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2018/01/28/sunday-photo-fiction-january-28th-2018/