Welcome to Six Sentence Stories



By Neel Anil Panicker

“See this jam, Tasty all by itself, but pretty much useless otherwise; you need to warm it, make it fluid,  before it can be spread on bread and become a gourmand’s delight.

Same’s the case with relationships.

Take mine for instance. Left to ourselves, we, Arthur and I, are like bread and jam.
Two wonderful but entirely different people with different attributes, different temperaments, different tastes, likes, dislikes et al.
The zing, the spark, the magic happens only when we are together; that’s because we don’t supplement but only complement each other.

That’s being fluid____knowing who you are and what you bring to the table, when and how much to give and take, so that together you help create the perfect dish, and that my friends is the secret of our long and happy marriage.
‘Wow! that’s great. So between the two of you, who is the bread and who is the jam?’

“Hmm…good question. Lemme think.”




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


FFfAW Challenge-Week of July 25, 2017

Hosted at


This week’s photo prompt is provided by Louise with The Storyteller’s Abode. Thank you Louise!

By Neel Anil Panicker

Some people are genetically programmed to self destruct.

Take Michael Gonsalves for instance. Friend, savior, benefactor, altruist__ Micky was all this and then some more.

Dutiful son to elderly cataract ridden parents; loving husband to a devoted wife; doting father to an adorable baby girl, barely two months old; and rock star buddy to one and all.

It was then that lightning struck. It came in the form of Julie, a thirty something twice married, recently widowed female form with enough sex appeal to set the Ganges on fire.

She, his new office boss, within a month, became his life’s whole sole goal.

Soon salacious details of their hour-long capers reached the ears of his loved ones.

His wife and parents threatened, cajoled, persuaded, reprimanded, shouted, screamed, even begged but to no avail.

He was hooked onto her like a teen turned slave to marijuana.

Six months later it was all over. He went kaput__there was no job, no Julie, no wife and no family to go back to.

His friends sniggered; said he might as well have committed suicide.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #FFfAW #fiction#roackingtheboat


FFfAW Challenge-Week of June 20, 2017

Hosted by PJ at

A Silver Lining

By Neel Anil Panicker

An exasperated Raghav stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut, striding like a raging bull towards the balcony.

There, as the cold blast of the nightly air blew in from the sea, he arched his head upwards towards the sky.

Something that he always did; the sky being his blanket, his guardian angel, omniscient and ever protective.

He needed its solace, especially now, when his mind was a maze, fast spiralling into the dark dungeons of uncertainty.

His eyes scanned the blue swathe above him.  The cold grey sky seemed un-obliging; a tumultuous, ragged cloud that bellowed and thundered; a precursor to dust storms, lightning and torrential rains.

Unfazed, Raghav kept the faith amidst the howling of the winds, the flashes of forked lightning and the persistent claps of thunder.

His efforts paid off, as miraculously the skies changed hue, the clouds bid adieu, and as if on cue, the stratosphere lit up a bright red.

And with that realisation dawned__Sheena was right, he was wrong.

He turned back, pledging to make amends.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #FFfAW #fiction #175words


Twittering Tale #34 – 12 June 2017

Twittering Tale #34 – 12 June 2017

Written for

Twittering Tale #34 – 12 June 2017

By Neel Anil Panicker

Pre-marriage life was bliss. Post marriage the love peeled away.

What remained was the hard crust of hate.

Post-divorce she held on to the crumbs.

(c)neelanilpanicker2017 #twitteringtale


Three Line Tales, Week 71

You’ll find full guidelines on the TLT page – here’s the tl;dr:

  • Write three lines inspired by the photo prompt (& give them a title if possible).
  • Link back to this post (& check the link shows up under the weekly post).
  • Tag your post with 3LineTales (so everyone can find you in the Reader).
  • Read and comment on other TLT participants’ lines.
  • Have fun.

Happy three-lining!


photo by Diana Feil via Unsplash

By Neel Anil Panicker

Newly engaged Inder quaffed the last drop off his wine glass, waltzed onto the stage and cracked yet another of his party piece jokes sending the celebratory congregation of family and friends gathered in the Crystal Room of the 5-star hotel into wild raptures.

As the evening gathered steam and the appreciative crowd swooned and swayed to Inder’s clownish antics, for the first time seeds of doubt began to sprout in his fiancé Dipika’s mind.

“Damn’t it. Why is it not happening? The poison not working? Why the hell is it taking so long for him to die?” she wondered.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #3LineTales #fiction #100words


Thursday photo prompt: Knock #writephoto

Behind Devil’s Doors

By Neel Anil Panicker

The full length wall room mirror is plastered with a golden edged sticker that boasts the legend “The Lord’s House is full of love.”

Looking into it, Pramila runs her fingers over her badly battered face, the little finger tracing the knife scar all the way from below the left eye to the lower jaws.

As she turns around, her eyes, swollen and bloodied, fail not to notice the imprint of strong male hands just below the left collar bone.

On closer examination, it also reveals five linear marks, much like those left behind by a screeching heavy duty truck tyre.

For a moment her frail body convulses as her benumbed brain remembers the bestiality of the previous night.

Like a statue she stands there, her body and mind as if in limbo, transfixed, unmoving, stony, and lifeless, God knows for how long.

Then slowly, she stumbles back to her senses and peers beyond at the reflection of the man on the bed, a man who barely a week ago had sworn in front of the holy fire to love and protect her from all danger, a man who was her lawfully wedded husband.

He eyes hover on his naked maleness, on the massive six foot hairy frame spread-eagled on the master bed; on the oversized head that juts out of hard boned rippling muscles as if it were a enormous ocean liner’s enormous hulk.

Her gaze falls on his eyes, a bulbous blood red, emitting sheer evil

even when closed.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #thursdayphotoprompt #fiction #251words

 Read  the second part here: 

Her eyes further travel down and take in the hairy hands, oversized and resembling a grizzly  mountains bear’s, at the tightly locked fists__small little iron balls, they seemed to her.

These were the very same hands that had last night and for every previous night, unbuckled the leather belt and assaulted her mercilessly, unmindful and unmoved by her heart wrenching cries and copious tears, her vociferous protestations and gut splitting pleas.

Her mind’s video plays out the scenes of horror; the blows, the beatings and the beratings, reliving  the pain when those fists had landed, first on her spine, then her head, hands, legs, and finally on her face, the brutal impact sending her careening to the corner walls, smearing the hexagonal shaped mosaic floor in thick veins of blood, her two front teeth a flotilla of broken dreams.

And so it runs, like a slow motion movie, unspooling one torturous reel after another, as the  happenings of the last seven days and nights come alive like with a frightening fury and traumatize her deeply scarred psyche with an intensity she can do without.

Stark images of one man’s untold brutality, slow and hazy, come into focus…the belt beatings, its brass knuckles tearing into supple flesh, the hands and legs contorting in murderous pain, the stilted voices of protest dying a million premature deaths…

She turns around and stares one last time at the man who had made her life a living hell.

There he was, even in his sleep, managing to send a shiver of fear down her spine.

And then something strikes in her mind. A long buried memory from school comes alive…her teacher, the English teacher’s words…Pramila, remember, to quietly suffer injustices is the biggest injustice that one does, not just to oneself but to society as well.

The words, long forgotten, now jolt her back from her stupor.

She then and there resolves to fight back the injustice meted out to her.

And then her eyes constrict and her lips tighten as her mind toughens with a new found fierceness.

She was going to give as good as she gets. Blood for blood, tooth and tooth, an eye for an eye.

It was payback time and at the receiving end was her newly minted husband, a demonic two-horned, evil eyed, alien skulled, wide whiskered monster in a man’s clothing.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #thursdayphotoprompt #fiction