neelwrites/sex,liesandvideoptape/sundayphotofiction/shortstory/200words/20/02/2018

CAUGHT ON CAMERA

24 Sascha Darlington February 18th 2018

BY NEEL ANIL PANICKER

Major Vijaykant Chauhan studied the two teenagers who stood quivering before him, their heads bowed and hands shaking.

Under the glare of the lone bulb, their farm fresh faces quivered like two frightened kittens.

A slow whistle escaped the Army officer’s lips.

“Tell me, where did you find them?”

‘Sir, I was on patrol duty when I heard voices from inside the Canteen adjacent to Gate No 5. Fearing them to be thieves or worse, I tiptoed forward and flashed my sten gun bulb. Sir, that’s when I found these two. They were…err…I am sorry sir…”

“What exactly were they doing?”

‘They…they were naked, Sir…I saw them…’

“Stop! The canteen you said, right? We have CCtvs there.

Can I get it’s footage?”

“What Sir?”

‘I said I need CCtvs footage of their err…antics”

Havildar Muthuswamy nodded his head.

A slow smile crept across Captain Vikram’s swarthy face. Finally, he ordered, “Ok, release the two now and don’t mention a word about this to anyone.”

As the three trooped out of the room Captain Vikram gloated at the fortune that had landed on his lap.

Now he could blackmail the City Police Chief with pictures of the latter’s daughter’s nocturnal peccadilloes.

©NEELANILPANICKER2018 #SUNDAYPHOTOFICTION #FLASH #SHORTSTORY #INSTASHORTS #200WORDS

Sunday Photo Fiction – February 18th 2018

https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2018/02/18/sunday-photo-fiction-february-18th-2018/

Advertisements

neelwrites/costlyfling/fiction/sixsentencestories/19/02/2018

A COSTLY FLING
By Neel Anil Panicker 
It started out pretty innocently, a casual dalliance, a mere fling, one of those outings that two high ranking and married individuals engage in when work demands drive them to spend endless hours closeted together on weekends.
But in between poring over voluminous data and  decoding intricate red and green squares that blipped on Excel sheets and pie charts, the two stumbled upon each other’s eyes.
It was not very long after that the peering shifted onto other contours of the human body.
Thereafter, the flood gates of unbridled passion were smashed open and the two succumbed to the  undulating pleasures of the human flesh and found themselves drowing in the maddening sea of lust.
By the time the two lust driven waywards realised the gargantuan folly of their debauchery and put an end to their nocturnal indiscretions it was too late.
It had cost two bitter divorcees besides leaving behind a retinue of severely disaffected young ones, their collectives fates hanging in limbo.
 (C)2018neelanilpanicker #fiction #shortstory

neelwrites/lordofthebeings/FFfAW/fiction/shorttsory/175words/13/02/2018

LORD OF THE BEINGS

By Neel Anil Panicker

“Hey Prashant, who has your cricket team lifted on their shoulders?

Well, that’s God Ganesha.

“God? This guy with an elephant’s head and a lone tusk??? I thought Sachin was the ‘God of Cricket?”

Steve, look at his name: Ganesha. Gana means beings, both living and non living. Ganesha controls I, you, every single person, thing, or element in the entire cosmos. This makes him the Lord of all beings. This also makes him powerful, far powerful than Sachin. In fact he’s more powerful than all other five million Gods and Goddesses, and hence we worship him before all else.

“I am so intrigued. He looks so cute, too. Does this dude have parents?”

Well, he’s son of Shiva and Parvati; no he was created by Shiva alone; or by Parvati; or even by both in consultation with Brahma.

“Now, now, wait a minute…It’s a bit confusing. Who are these characters. How could a guy be be born of err created by so many people?”

Well, this is India. Here, anything and everything is possible.

©NEELANILPANICKER2018 #FRIDAYFICTIONFORASPIRINGWRITERS #SHORTSTORY #175WORDS

FFfAW Challenge-February 13, 2018

https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2018/02/12/fffaw-challenge-february-13-2018/

 

neelwrites/moon’smine/mindlovemiserysmenagerie/fiction/shortstory/505words/07/02/2018

TONIGHT THE MOON’S MINE

77e767ce-ef3a-4112-b11b-4b3a6e8ab930_rw_1920

By Neel Anil Panicker

For a long time Venkat sat there, by the shore, motionless and emotionless, his tiny hands clasped tightly together as the waves crashed onto the rocky edges, each thunderous splash lathering his bare torso, drenching him with whatever the angry sea brought in__bile, froth, and salt working as a coolant all over his puny body.

Then, slowly, as the waters turned slightly warmer, he opened his eyes and gazed at his reflection on the waters below.

His face, come alive in the full moon’s golden streaks, had turned a flotilla of reddish orange. But it was the eyes that held his attention as he peered into them, the eyeballs, twinkling brighter than the brightest star, two floating dots in a mass of fluid.

It was then that he realised the full import of what he had done.

And with that came what he thought he had buried in the deepest recesses of his scarred mind__the memories, the horrendously mind shattering memories.

Like some monstrous unhinged ill formed sea creature, it came, the very same memories that stuck to his soul like and crisscrossed past his battered mindscape in all those horror filled sleepless nights of yore.

One among them persisted and bounced back, repeatedly smashing against the half broken edges of his mind, leading him to ultimately break into a long, heart wrenching cry whose virulence ricocheted off the rocks that abutted him, crashing into the sea with a dissonance that stayed afloat for what seemed like eternity.

It was the dead of night and he was in his room, a small dank and smelly doorless tin shed. He felt someone sliding up to him, first a hand, then the legs moving all over him, the lips, the mouth taken over by some brute force and seconds after began the hour long brutal crushing down of his dignity or whatever remained of it.

The sea hissed along angrily as another memory followed.

This time he had a knife in his hand and he was plunging it deep into his employer’s heart. He didn’t know how long he bored it down the man’s chest but he stopped only when there was pin drop silence and the only sound he could hear was that of his own self, his petrified heart beating faster than it had ever in the fourteen odd years of his sodden existence on this planet.

A light glowed in the dark, lighting up the horizon beyond the waters. He knew what it meant. It was time for the boat’s arrival. He had watched it every single night from the netted iron bars of his factory, the soap factory that was his home from the time he was four, bought and brought here to serve his master in more ways than one.

This was his first outing ever, the first time he had ventured out alone.

He looked upto at the sky and the twinkling stars. He had never seen the sun.

It was time he did; the moon would guide him to it.

(C)NEELANILPANICKER #FICTION #SHORTSTORY #505WORDS

 

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

Photo Challenge #200

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/02/06/photo-challenge-200/

neelwrites/sinkintheink/fiction/shortstory/99words/03/02/2018

SINK IN THE INK

wetink

By Neel Anil Panicker

This was Rita’s first attempt at writing fiction, a short story at that. Truth was this was her very first attempt at writing anything.

Rubbing off the early morning blearedness from her eyes, she reviewed her piece, ensuring there were no loopholes left unplugged as far as character, plot, dialogue and point of view were concerned __the stock tools of the writer.

Finally, she heaved a sigh of relief.

Her attempt was good. She had poured her sorrow onto the page.

It had turned into wet ink and created a masterpiece.

The perks of a failed marriage, she averred.

©2018neelanilpanicker #fiction #shortstory

neelwrites/simplyyakking/fiction/shortstory/threelinetales/200words/02/02/2018

 

SIMPLY YAKKING

By Neel Anil Panicker

‘Hey sweetheart there, do you realise how ugly you look when you get this angry? Cutting a very sorry picture, standing there like a spurned lover against an ncreasingly darkening windy blue sky. I mean look at you, your nostrils have all flared up, the eyes have turned blood red and bulbous, like two massive balloons that may burst out any moment, and look at those horns, they’s twisted  so much I’m afraid they may break any moment.’

“Stop it Blessy! Don’t try to mollycoddle me. I’m not your sweetheart. Your sweetheart is that new white guy who takes you out every morning around the steppe; the one who sits astride you and Gods knows what he does, where all his hands go. Go, go to him if you like him so much.”

“Oh my, my poor handsome yak, how jealous of you to even think like that of dear old Johnny. He is such a loving old man. It’s pure work my darling. He needs me, needs my droppings, needs them to warm his hut, to cook food, to survive in this harsh Tibetan clime. Just a relationship. You can call it daughter and father. Nothing more, nothing less”.

©NEELANILPANICKER2018 #FICTION #SHORTSTORY #THREELINETALES #200WORDS

Three Line Tales, Week 105

Three Line Tales, Week 105

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