neelwrites/memories/weekendwritingprompt#31-nostalgia/flashfiction/shortstory/03/12/2017

Written for

Weekend Writing Prompt #31 – Nostalgia

hosted by https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2017/12/02/weekend-writing-prompt-31-nostalgia/?blogsub=spammed#blog_subscription-2

 MEMORIES

By Neel Anil Panicker

“Stupid Gloria! Always leaving tasks undone, these good for nothing maids. I should have fired her long ago”.

Daniel was in a bad mood as he gently offloaded himself from the high chair, ducking his head gently from under the attic hold, his regular hand clutching a dust-laden leather file, its moth eaten edges half consumed by the other virulent non-resident creatures of the near decrepit sprawling bungalow__the omnipresent black rats.

Plonking himself onto the bed, he opened the file and rummaged through its contents__

the property files.

Good riddance. He would sell it, the bungalow, the farmhouse…every single thing.

It was then that he spotted it__an old yellowed sepia tinged black and white photograph. Clutching the image with his arthritic struck hands, he peered at it from behind thick glasses.

The ruins of an old fort…Golconda…Hyderabad…India and Preeti, his beloved.

The eyes turned moist as an avalanche of once stilled memories swept him away.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #flashfiction #shortstory #159words #nostalgia

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neelwrites/eerie/flashfiction/52weeks52words/02/12/2017

WRITESPIRATION #143 52 WEEKS IN 52 WORDS WEEK 48

http://sachablack.co.uk/2017/11/29/writespiration-143-52-weeks-in-52-words-week-48/

Write a story including these words:

jugs, bamboo, nostril and frozen.

EERIE

By Neel Anil Panicker

A wolfish cry cut through the deep underarm of darkness and resonated all over the deadened night sending a cold chill of fear down Mary’s spine. Her hands and feet, a frozen white, she stepped out of her bamboo hut and peered inside the jug.

Her nostrils flared at the sight.

©neelanilpancker2017 #flashfiction #52words

neelwrites/poem/haiku-troiku/#01/MLMM/

BELOW THEM… 

By Neel Anil Panicker

Below them, 
the dark streets beckoned
with crimson light.

 Image result for NIGHT STREET LIGHTS IN SIN CITY

Below them,

 lay bare their dignity,

or whatever was left of it.

 

 The dark streets beckoned,

Burying alive long lost memories;

birthing newer superficial ones

 

With crimson light,

  lives turned grimmer

under all that glitter.

 ©neelanilpanicker2017  #poem/haiku/troiku #01  

neelwrites/nailingit/ThreeLineTales/fiction/part25ofadangerouslove/13/10/2017

Welcome to Week 89 of Three Line Tales.

Three Line Tales, Week 89

NAILING IT

three line tales week 89: this is the sign you've been looking for

photo by Austin Chan via Unsplash

By Neel Anil Panicker

The lone occupant inside the white Ambassador car that was trailing the unmarked police jeep as it entered the bylanes of Mayapuri Industrial Area was no ordinary man_ seated behind the wheel, his hands drumming into the velvety cushions was none other than Afzal Guru, the most feared mafia don of Old Delhi himself.

The jeep cruised to a halt near an abandoned factory wall; within seconds a figure slipped out of the shadows, and walked towards the driver’s seat.

A mere fifty metres away, peering through the windshield, Afzal Guru watched the woman as she, first nodded and then shook hands with his bete noire Inspector Sharma, Special Crime Branch, Delhi Police. It was all the proof he ever needed against Liza, his own daughter.

#Part 25 of A DANGEROUS LOVE#Fiction#ThreeLineTales#126words

neelwrites/spf/dogs&bitches/150words/10/07/2017

Sunday Photo Fiction – July 9th 2017

Hosted at https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2017/07/09/sunday-photo-fiction-july-9th-2017/

…OF DOGS AND BITCHES

205 07 July 9th 2017

© A Mixed Bag

By Neel Anil Panicker

“Hey babes, pop your head out of the window. See that blue van parked near the kerb. I’m inside it. Time’s running out. Just pop out and we scoot, ok?”

‘Great, sweetheart. Me and Ronnie…we’ll join you in a sec.’

“What? You bringing Ronnie? Gone mad or what?”

‘But what else do I do?  I can’t leave him alone and you know that.”

“Gawd, what am I hearing? Is this a joke? Can’t you just dump that big boy? He’ll take care of himself”.

‘Listen, Michael. Let me get this straight__I am not going anywhere without Ronnie, you get that?’

“Loud and clear. This is what I get for risking my life and robbing a bank off a million dollars and dreaming of starting a grand new life with you and what do I get in return__the thumbs down, being dumped for a bloody dog. I hate you, you bitch.”

©neelanilpanicker2017 #SPF #fiction #150words

neelwrites/bogota/whatpegmansaw/150words/fiction/08/07/2017

WHAT PEGMAN SAW

Bogota, Columbia

Hosted by J Hardy at

Bogota, Columbia

SHOOTING PRACTICE 

(GENRE: HISTORICAL FICTION)

Silva House of Poetry - Honoring a Colombian legend

By Neel Anil Panicker

 “¿Podría decirme la ubicación exacta del corazón?”

Dr Juan Camilo, senior cardiologist at Santa Barnara Medical Center couldn’t  believe what he had just heard.

True, in his almost four decade old career he had had patients who made all kinds of demands, bizarre requests, a few outright stupid, and one absolutely insane: ‘Doc, can you stop my heart for ten minutes. I want to experience what it means to die.’

But this one was different, especially so as it came from a person whom all of Bogota nee Columbia respected nee revered to the point of veneration.

He mulled over the entreaty for a moment and then replied, “Claro, si insistes”

The tall young man’s eyes lit up and he replied, “Muchas gracias, doctor.”

 

It was a decision that the renowned doctor would regret for the rest of his life.

The following day’s newspapers reported the tragic death of  José Asunción Silva, the cause, a single bullet shot through the heart.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #historicalfiction #whatpegmansaw #email:neelanilpanicker@gmailcom #161words

(HISTORICAL BACKGROUND)

José Asunción Silva (27 November 1865 in Bogotá – 23 May 1896 in Bogotá) was a Colombian poet. He is considered one of the founders of Spanish–American Modernism.

On the morning of 24 May 1896, a housemaid found Asunción Silva dead in his bed with a gun near his body; he had shot himself in the heart the night before. There are many reasons for his suicide, including the death of his sister Elvira, the loss of almost all his work when his ship sank near a quay in the Caribbean sea, and his debts. Prior to his death, he asked his doctor confidentially to mark the exact location of his heart.

He was buried in the Central Cemetery in Bogotá. Perhaps his more important legacy is the house where he lived, which has been converted into a museum, the Silva Poetry House.[1]

neelwrites/FF/pinupgirl/fiction/100words/05/07/2017

FRIDAY FICTIONEERS

Hosted by the super wonderful Rochelle at https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/07/05/7-july-2017/

For other wonderful entries click on the blue frog below:

PIN-UP GIRL

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