June and I rushed back home.
‘Hurry up! Before everybody comes back from their walk,’ said June clearing up the verandah.
‘It should look neat and serene. Where’s that wine glass? It will complete the look’
‘What if they enquire about Bobby?’ I asked feeling scared.
‘We tell them, we hadn’t seen her and we thought, she went with them’. Continue reading
From her small balcony, the witch watched the world go by.
Olivia hated the day time when all action was in the night. She was tired watching the slow lives of humans. But, they were industrious. She kept four of them in her house. Two did the housework and two did the odd jobs for her. Thankless creatures. She was ready to teach them some spells, but they just wanted to go back to their pathetic lives. She had planned to replace the old human. She needed young blood. Continue reading
“As her mount shifted uneasily under her, she grasped the brim of her old felt Stetson, gazed upwards and remembered Jean Pierre.”
“He was just too handsome for his own good,” Claude thought of her husband. “If he wasn’t so handsome, I wouldn’t have had to keep a watch and protect him from those foolish women in love with him. He had a wife, didn’t they know? ”
Claude always blamed his death on the note she had found in his shirt pocket. It said “8 o clock” and nothing else. She was furious with rage. She ran to the barn, picked up the cleaver and waited in the dark. Continue reading
It was a daily ritual on the way back from school. Best friends, Nick and Jason would bet on the color of the dress worn by the pretty girl at the window. Whoever wins could go right below her window and profess his love.
She had soft curly brown hair with ringlets touching her shoulders, large eyes and a smile that could brighten the day.
Nick was in love, he knew. But so was Jason.
On that fateful day, Nick selected pink, Jason – yellow. But she wore violet. That triggered the first fight between the friends starting the great feud.
This story is written for Friday Fictioneers. Read more stories here.
“I see absolutely everything.”
The 10-year-olds in the class looked up at the teacher, Miss Deo, in wonder. She was writing on the blackboard with her back to the class.
“No talking in the back,” she repeated.
“I don’t believe it. She is bluffing,“ Ravi told Suraj. Both were sitting on the last bench of the class talking in whispers.
“Are you sure?” Suraj asked. Continue reading