‘So, you think you know it all. But don’t forget I am your father, I know better’, he said.
Mom and me sighed. He had a hook on which his used towel would be hung. Now for some days the hook had been a battle of contention. The brother and his wife wanted it removed, it seriously looked out of place in the room.
The hook screws had gone weak, we were happy that finally it would be removed but then father took a screw driver and a hammer and banged it back in its place.
He knew better. Sigh
Sometimes adults behave like adamant kids and this was one of the times when papa behaved like a kid. He managed to put the hook back and the towel was back on its perch. 🙂
Written for 100 words on Write tribe.
The prompt this time being ‘So, you think you know it all’
I was wheeled into the Operation Theater. They checked my vitals. The anesthesiologist had already spoken to me the previous day. He came and smiled at me and started his procedure. I knew it was my last day there. There meaning; the end of my misery, the pain and the medications.
I settled down nicely. Happy and content that the wait was over. The anesthesia started its work. I became drowsy. The team around me got active.
As I slipped out of consciousness, I felt I saw someone with a noose. and I knew it was my last day anywhere.
Written as a part of 100 words on Saturday 7 at Write Tribe. The prompt being I knew it was my last day there.
I love the play of words. The way they spring to life, bringing my emotions upfront. I also like to create characters bringing them alive. They play the joys and sorrows of mundane life and give others a respite. I love it that apart from a son who was born from my womb, I have so many others born from my mind and heart. And though the former was created by two, the latter are mine alone.
I turn the pages and a happy contentment fills me.
Every once in a while I check if someone is reading me too.
Image source; Google images
Written as a part of 100 words on Saturday at Write Tribe. The prompt being every once in a while.
I looked at myself. Turned right and left. Sucked in my cheeks, pulled in my breath. Wore black and blue. Wore a knot and then left the hair loose. Nothing helped.
I tried some more. I walked near to the mirror, I walked far. I crossed my legs, i crossed my arms. Nothing helped.
Then I held my handbag on one arm, a scarf in another. Nothing helped.
‘Maybe we should buy another mirror, this one is no good’, the wise one joked. I glared at him, he turned hurriedly away.
Oh my lost figure, if only you were here.
Post written for 100 words on Saturday at Write Tribe. The prompt this week being if only you were here.There will be a lot of serious posts on the prompt so thought of bringing in some humor. Hope you liked it.
I banged the door and left. All the pent-up frustrations of rising costs, mounting EMIs, blame game, everything was reflected in that bang.
I ran. Took a bus heading to Zallaq beach. I sat without knowing what I was going to do there.
But the sea beckoned me and I ran. Knee deep in water, soaking in the sunlight. embracing the wind, I felt truly alive.
The phone rang. ‘Thought I was dead, eh?’, I said in jest.
‘Nah, tell me where is the salt? Junior wants some noodles to eat?’, he said in a tone which spoke relief.
Sometimes problems just need some space; sometimes the problems are ourselves.
Fiction written as a part of Write Tribe’s 100 words on Saturday.
The prompt this time, Truly alive
It was the beginning of August. I was in Vizag but for the last one month I had not done any swadhyay*. And then I had a brain wave.
I told my SIL that I would teach the 12th Chapter of the Bhagvad Gita for her daughter R and her friends. She went a step further and spoke to the Building Secretary and voila from the next Monday I was scheduled to teach the children of the apartment complex.
The next two weeks were spent in fun, reciting and playing. Yes, those days were food for soul…………… for all of us.
Lonking this to Writetribe’s 100 words on Saturday
The prompt being ‘food for the soul’
He shuffled, yes he did. Parkinson’s does that to people. His wife watched. He reached the washbasin, picked the brush and the toothpaste.The paste oozed out and spilled, while the other hand tried to hold the brush steady. He flinched but his wife gave him a thumbs up and together they renewed their wedding vows.
Often we think of marriage as journeys together and fun times. But a marriage also means of being there for each other whatever the situation may be.
Wriiten as a part of write tribes-55 fiction, genre chosen- Love.
As I banged the pots and the pans in the kitchen, the other half peeped in, and said, ‘Can I have a cup of coffee’, and then looking at the state of things he added, ‘Please’.
‘No, I said.
‘Why, what happened. You had a fight with Sulekha or a neighbour’.
‘Nah’, I said.
I glared at him and said, ‘Why do you think I will fight with anyone, as if I have no other business?’
‘Then what is all this?’, He asked pointing at the mess. ‘This’, I said, showing my hairbrush full of hair, my lost treasure.
The promt this time lost treasure
Those eyes... those big eyes like lotus blooming in a pond, could drive anyone crazy.
I fell for her. We could spend hours. Me gazing at her eyes. She amused at my gaze.
Her eyes spoke. Of love, of lust, of need. She moved in and I would be with her every second, to see her yawn and see the eyes getting narrow. To see her open her beautiful eyes in the morning . To see her teary eyed, to see her eyes laugh.
And then I woke up one day to see her gone with every single possession of mine.
As part of 100 words on Saturday.
I was browsing. A post here and a prompt there. A like here, a comment there.
And then came your call. We spoke, we became cheeky and then you dropped the bombshell.
I kept the mobile down, looked up at the screen, oh so lovingly but no, there would be no more comp time. I sighed dragged myself out of the chair and began the chores of the day.
The ‘king’ was coming in an hour. I had to make the home spick and span and the meal ready so that HE could not point a finger at me. SIGH…………
The story of our lives, isn’t it?? I would have liked to be online always; chatting, reading but then as Robert Frost said:
I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
Posted as a part of 100 words on Saturday