neelwrites/somedish/fiction/FFfAW/shorstory/12/12/2017

145th Challenge

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Week of 12-12 through 12-18-2017

Hosted by Priceless Joy at https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2017/12/11/fffaw-challenge-week-of-december-12-2017/

SOME DISH!

By Neel Anil Panicker

Ismail Makhtoum stared at the strange concoction that had arrived on his table. For a moment he was tempted to call out to the waiter, the liveried ever smiling cartoonish character clad in a seven piece costume that reminded him of the Annual Fancy Dress Competitions back in his much lived much loved childhood in rural Ambosa.

Or still better, he wanted to kick the table aside and walk out of this fancy restaurant and walk into the nearest roadside shack by the beach and indulge in some serious lip smacking business__ducking and digging his teeth into straight of the sea slow cooked deep fried silvery salmons liberally peppered with what else but pepper and a dash of lemon.

But instead he looked through the grossly mangled partially sun burnt caterpillar like formations that crisscrossed the length and breadth of the fancy bone china plate and found what he was looking for.

The five gramme gold biscuit was there as promised.

He scooped it off and safely placed it in his inner trouser pockets alongside the evening tickets to New Delhi.

Just another day had begun in a carrier’s career.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #flash #shortstory #FFAW #SOMEDISH

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neelwrites/labyrinth/part30ofadangerouslove/novella/fiction/100wordwednesday/11/12/2017

100 Word Wednesday: Week 48

By BIKURGURL at https://bikurgurl.com/2017/12/06/100-word-wednesday-week-48/

LABYRINTH

100WW_W48.jpg

Photo by Trevor Cole

By Neel Anil Panicker

Inspector Sharma looked through the windshield as the approaching police van made a discreet entrance through the usually locked back gates of Tiz Hizari Courts.

The vehicle grinded to a halt near the parking area reserved for judges and higher officials.

From here it would be but a short two minute walk through the narrow garden path that led to the temporary court cell.

The accused would then be led to the respective courts located on the first and second two floors of the multi-plex style sprawling court complex.

Sharma watched the prisoners closely as they alighted.

One in particular caught his attention, Ali; the cop wondered what awaited him_ jail, bail, or was it something else?

©neelanilpanicker2017 #PART 30 of A DANGEROUS LOVE #FICTION #NOVELLA #117WORDS

 

To read previous episodes of this ongoing novella ” A DANGEREOUS LOVE’ click on the links below:

PART ONE:

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/07/27/neelwritesffphoningaroundfictionromance100words27072017/

PART TWO:

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/07/28/neelwrites3linetalesphoningaround-part2fiction28072017/

PART THREE:

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/07/30/neelwritessundayphotofiction03ofdangerouslove30072017/

PART FOUR

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/01/neelwritespart/

PART FIVE

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/01/neelwritessixsentencestoriesepisodesixofdangerouslovefiction/

PART SIX

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/03/neelwriteswatcherfictionthursdayphotoprompt03082017/

PART SEVEN

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/05/neelwritesgaffarmian-alifeoutsideprisonwallsthreelinetalesfiction188words/

PART EIGHT https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/08/neelwritescatsoutofthebagfffpppart8ofdangerouslovefiction08082017/

PART NINE https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/09/neelwritesthediscoveryfffawpart9dangerouslovefiction09082017/comment-page-1/#comment-3979

PART TEN  https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/12/neelwritesalonelyvigilparttenofadangerouslovefiction35812082017/

PART ELEVEN https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/15/neelwritesthedisclosurespfpartelevenofdangerouslove15082017/

 

PART TWELVE https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/16/neeelwritesthedonsnestparttwelveofdangerouslovefictionnovella16082017/

PART THIRTEEN

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/21/neelwritesbordersixsentencestoriespartthirteenofadangerouslovefiction195words21082017/

PART FOURTEEN

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/24/neelwritesthehitpartfourteenofadangerouslove24082017/

PART FIFTEEN

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/25/neelwriteswearinganewshadeadangerouslifepartfifteenofdangerouslovefiction25082017/

PART SIXTEEN
PART SEVENTEEN
PART EIGHTEEN
PART NINETEEN
PART 21

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/09/19/neelwritespart21ofadangerouslovesixsentencestoriesplate19072017/

PART 22:

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/09/30/neelwritescryinthedarortrappart22ofadangerouslovefictionnovella133words30092017/

 

 

PART 27: https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/10/28/neelwritesbiggamehuntingpart27ofadangerouslovenovellafictionthreelinetales28102017/

PART 28: https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/12/02/neelwrites-dramornightmare-part28ofadangerouslove-novella-fiction-02-12-2017/

PART 29

https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/12/10/neelwrites-timesticking-part29ofadangerouslove-novella-fiction-10-12-2017/

 

neelwwrites/amystery/spf/fiction/flash/shortstory/204words/11/12/2017

Sunday Photo Fiction – December 10th 2017

Hosted by https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2017/12/10/sunday-photo-fiction-december-10th-2017/

 

THE MYSTERY

18 Eric Wiklund 10 December 2017

By Neel Anil Panicker

“Mrs Mallick, I must say for a child of his age Rohan has a very fertile imagination. Here have a look at this.”

The two ladies looked at the arts and crafts patchwork laid out the long display table at the Annual School Arts and Crafts Exhibition.

“Isn’t that simply wonderful”, Miss Radhika Bose, the Class One Arts Teacher continued, pointing her finger towards the long angular cobbled pathway that led to a domed forested villa.

“Right down to the rocky outgrowth abutting it, the cute little wooden bench and the birds’ nest, tinged a sparkling blue, every single detail is a sensual treat. And the icing on the cake__ this quaint little miniature house adjacent to the main one. Tell me Mrs Mallick, which child of six displays the intelligence and foresight to draw such beautifully?”.

The question was meant as a rhetoric and as such Mrs Mullick had nothing much to offer but simply smile in acknowledgement of the deluge of praises that were coming her only child’s way.

She didn’t deem it fit to reveal to anyone the inspiration behind the ‘second’ house.

How embarrassing would it be if she revealed that Rohan’s father kept two houses.

©NEELANILPANICKER2017 #FICTION #FLASHFICTION #SHORTSTORY #SUNDAYPHOTOFICTIONEERS

neelwrites/fiction/shortstorey/39words/09/12/2017

 

#MicroMondays –

20171203_211822

The magic number for this week is 39, and it is from the 39th page of the book we have our prompt.

20171203_211918

IT SOUNDED SIMPLE IN THEORY

Hosted at https://looseendoftheredthread.wordpress.com/2017/12/04/micromondays-8/

By Neel Anil Panicker

Do a recee of a bank; rent a shop adjoining it; drill a hole upto the locker room; break-in on a holiday; escape with the loot_ it sounded simple in theory.

They didn’t factor the dog that awaited them.

(c)neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #flash #short story #39words #MicroMondays

neelwrites/training/flashfiction/performance/09/12/2017

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 https://carrotranch.com/2017/12/07/december-7-flash-fiction-challenge/

TRAINING, IT’S DRAINING

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

neelwrites/iced/fridayfictioneers/flash/fiction/shortstory/99words/08/12/2017

Hosted BY ROCHELLEWISOFF at https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/12/06/8-december-2017/

ICED

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

By Neel Anil Panicker

Earlier it wasn’t so the case; she loved them, the winters. The luxuriously languorous all night slumber into la la land; the achingly slow waking up to the smell of hot as molten lava garden fresh coffee, the touch of warm veined fingers on frosty cheeks, the entwining of love filled hearts and lust filled bodies.

Aaah! she could go on and on and her dream would have no end.

But end it did.

And cruelly at that.

As she stares through the icicled sheets of coldness she wonders when love went of the window.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #flash #shortstory #99words

#Friday Fictioneers

neelwrites/darknesstolight/fiction/shortstory/reena’sexplorationhallengeweek#15/06/12/12017

Hosted by the ever dependable, super resourceful Reena at

https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2017/12/01/reenas-exploration-challenge-week-15/

DARKNESS TO LIGHT

habit

By Neel Anil Panicker

As the Master of Ceremonies (MC) announced the winner of the COACHING TIME Best Faculty Award 2017, thunderous rounds of applause swept through the audience as every single person was up on his or feet, clapping, cheering lustily, quite a few even, especially among the women, shedding more than a tear.

These were no ordinary tears; instead they were tears of joy, tears of supreme happiness and a silent prayer in honour and recognition of the insurmountable spirit displayed by one of their own, one who with her actions had become an inspirational beacon of hope for all.

Daintily adjusting the folds of her exquisitely ornate gold embroidered Kancheevaram silk saree, Dr Lavanya got up from her chair in the corner third row and worked her way towards stage acknowledging the compliments that came her way.

Joining his colleagues and co-workers in expressing their extreme happiness was Mohandas Pai, the Director of ‘Coaching Time’ who too stood up, his hands clapping in chorus with the rapturous crowd.

Amidst thunderous ear deafening applause Sr Lavanya acceded to the request of the MC to speak a few words.

First of all I request you all to kindly sit down. It makes me feel a wee bit awkward to receive so much love and attention from my dear colleagues, well wishers, respectful Director Sir__ all who have known me in the past decade or so to ten years.

If an outsider were to inadvertently gate crash into this evening’s conference, he would assume me to be a hot shot Bollywood celebrity, in town for one or the other charity event.

Speaking of charity, I will say that charity begins at home.

And here I must thank, besides my dear parents, my dear colleagues without whose unstinted support and encouragement I wouldn’t have been here, standing before all of you, holding in my hands this glittering trophy that has my name engraved on it, acknowledging and honouring me with the award for the BEST FACULTY- VERBAL 2017.

And now I must get on with the task at hand, a promise that Pai Sir had extracted from me.

It was a promise that I will tell my story from every single stage, that I will narrate at every opportune moment and occasion the story of my life, that is my life battling cancer.

So here it is, the no holds barred, bare boned story of my life.

My name is Lavanya. I had a surname. But life and circumstances have forced nee enabled me to drop my surname.

I was born a boy, the only child of typical middle class Maharashtrian parents who were both bank employees.

Life was blissful as I grew up into my teens but sometime around when I had crossed seventeen I realised I was a girl trapped in a boy’s body.

When, after much hesitation and quite a lot of trepidation, I disclosed my fears to my parents they were devastated. Quite understandably so. I mean who wouldn’t? Their only child, bright and cheerful, a crowd puller, was now telling them, literally out of the blue that he was a she. That their only offspring, that too a son, the much sought after male homosapien, was a daughter.

Barring the initial shock, my mother, as all mothers are wont to, took it in her chin and embraced me. She had a daughter now instead of what she believed earlier to be a son. Just a switch of genders.

But my father was made differently. He felt insulted, cheated, humiliated, his elephantine male ego couldn’t the fathom the idea of fathering a boy who had now cruelly turned into a girl.

He ranted and raved, threw things around, began binge drinking and chain smoking, and when one day my mother suggested that it was time to heed the doctor’s advice and help initiate the medical process that would transform my body from male into female he put his foot down. He simply refused to sign the consent form, refused to put his signature on the medical form without which no hospital or doctor could carry out the medical interventions my body so very urgently needed.

And when my mother questioned him over this reluctance, he slapped her and threw us, both mother and I out of the house, our house that parents had jointly built.

The next day and the week after we stayed at a relative’s place and the months following that we moved into a single room rented accommodation.

The day we moved in was when we received the court notice. My father had filed for divorce.

Our cup of woes filleth over.

I will cut short the horrific days and nights and the several years that followed thereafter, suffice to say it took all of ten years, five ‘eight-hour-long’ surgeries and a ten lakh rupees bank loan to help me transform fully from a boy to girl.

In between my mother worked at the bank, toiled as an independent single mother, bravely fighting the not so veiled barbs and insults and slights of a highly myopic misogynistic society to enable me pick up a graduate degree and a prized MBA thereafter.

She died last year, a happy and contented soul, ever in live with life, ever a fighter, ever positive and left me with her message of peace and love. A true fighter she was and made me one too.

My mother was stronger than I ever could be.

I remember she never ever dropping that smile off her face, never ever saying or feeling one bit of despondency, never ever indulging in self pity or wallowing in the deep bottomless well of despair and negativity.

Friends who have visit my house have seen my bookshelf chock o block with self help books and autobiographies of great men and women.

In one of the walls is a huge white board imprinted with the words, “Trauma is about being stuck. Sometimes a holding pattern becomes habitual, causing tension and ill health. We understand our lives backward, but must live them forward”.

These are the words of the great 20th century Danish philosopher Soren Kiregaard, considered the ‘Father of Existentialism’ on whose works I have done Doctorate.

Thanks to my in depth research into his teachings and philosophies was I able understand the concept of choice that besets every human being and thereby lead myself from pitch black darkness into blinding light.

It was he who helped me move from my earlier stage of dreadful existence to another beautiful stage, an act of will, a leap of choice.

I slowly moved from apathy to sympathetic antipathy to finally antipathetic sympathy.

I realised it’s not the traumas and setbacks that come our way that defeat us, that hold us back, that lead us to failures. I realised that is it is our own mental blocks towards them, our own deep rooted self serving narrow mindsets and attitudes towards these temporary but all so natural mishaps that beset every human being on this planet that we need to smash, come out of, and overcome. And that’s what I did. I smashed and broke through all these artificial walls to carve my own space on this Earth.

And that’s the message that I want give all.

I am no doctor but today I help heal minds, heal human minds caught in a time warp, a vicious self defeating circle of bigotry, obscurantism, patriarchy and gender subjugation.

This beautiful award and recognition will always stay embedded in my heart for ever, for it shows your love and respect for both of us, my mother and me__for my mother Lalitha, and for me, Vanya.

And that, my dear friends and colleagues, is my story, Lavanya’s story, the story of a  girl who was once a boy but will always remain a human being, and strive to be a good one. Thanks You and God bless all of you.”

 

#NEELANILPANCIKER FICTION #SHORT STORY #REENA’S EXPLORATION CHALLENGE#WEEK 15 #1323words