autumn spell

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in this maze of bleeding leaves
as if the mighty Him spilled red inks
on top of the lush trees and twigs
to signal the yearly seasons’ shift,

find me lurking not
beneath the tall towers of red and yellow,
find me hiding not
inside the house with the whispering cello,

find me sitting not
on the edge of the long, winding road,
find me breathing not
inside the rushing car, suddenly slowed.

one more inhale,
one more exhale,
soul elevates maybe
to heaven or to hell.

well, the view from the top
of this scarlet autumn spell
makes this final moment
a little easier.

08.14.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Shubhodeep Roy

The Colours of the Flag

Surrounded by bright almost blinding camera flashes, carpet as red as fresh human blood, bodies in ensemble more expensive than my house, I felt overwhelmed and lost at the same time.

I am an indie actress with a promising film nominated in Cannes Film Festival. This is big. Bigger than my dreams as a kid.

As the world waits for the show to start, my eyes widely surveys the festive scene. Then I saw the blue, the yellow and the red drinks— the colours of my country’s flag.

They took me home. Away from the limelight and shimmering cinematic sight. Near my beloved yet almost hungry-all-the-time children. 

If only my eyes can swallow all they see, I will take them all and free my children from the prison called poverty.

Word count: 130

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Sunday Photo Fiction


NOTE: The three wine glasses have the colours of my country’s flag. 🙂

In response to Sunday Photo Fiction for May 22, 2016.

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly writing challenge hosted by Alastair Forbes where a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction using around 200 words. The piece doesn’t have to center around exactly what the photo is, it can be just used as a basis for a story.

Enjoy more awesome stories here:

Bridal Car

26 years ago, this car was just a rusted metal crap in my grandpop’s old garage. It was left to decay and die its natural death until I was born. Once my painter parents learned their first child will be a girl, they christened the car with colours. We’re like twins born on that fateful summer day.

With thousand trips this car has took me and my family, today is both the happiest and the saddest.

Tonight this car won’t bring me home any more, cause it is now my turn to create a home I will call my own.

Word count: 100

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Saima (SWritings) of Dollops of Heedful Ramblings


In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) May 10, 2016.

Rules:

  • a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less)
  • each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end
  • no serial (continuation) stories
  • include a pingback to the challenge post

Thank you for the lovely prompt, Priceless Joy! ❤ 

Read more short stories here:

Meeting the Parents

Palms perspiring uncontrollably, heart throbbing ceaselessly, what’s wrong with me?

My one-year boyfriend will introduce me to his parents today. He said it’s their golden anniversary and despite being separated for almost two decades, his mom eagerly waited for her dad’s come back. Thus, the grand celebration with a photo display in the old-yet-still-famous Photo Centre.

So… why I am so nervous?

I looked good, actually our friends always joke that we looked creepily alike that we can be siblings– not a couple.

My jitters are unreasonable.. but they made sense when we entered the photo-filled room.

The man in the photos, his dad, looked eerily familiar.

When I saw him face to face, his wide blue-gray eyes, which looks like mine, changed the funny joke into an ugly truth.

Word count: 130

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Uday of Udayology


In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) March 22, 2016.

Rules:

  • a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less)
  • each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end
  • no serial (continuation) stories
  • include a pingback to the challenge post

Thank you for a though-provoking prompt, Priceless Joy!

Read more short stories here:

Final Photo

There’s something missing.

After a slow thorough scan of our almost-two-decade house—“Mom!!!”

The last photo dad has captured before he turned into unrecognisable pieces, is missing! I grew old admiring that heartfelt, solitary moment between the soldier and his dog. Now it’s missing!

“What happened!?”

“Dad’s final shot is missing, Mom!!!”

“No, son. It isn’t. I took it down.”

“What? Why? I tho—.”

I’m too confused to think and speak, while my ageing mom looks so close to tears.

“You’re only two when your dad left for the war. He snapped that photo seconds before the soldier and the dog was blown apart. He actually… survived.  But… he never came back. He looked for the soldier’s widow, found her, fall for her. He left us, to be with her.”

Word count: 130

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Pixabay


In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) March 15, 2016.

Rules:

  • a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less)
  • each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end
  • no serial (continuation) stories
  • include a pingback to the challenge post

Thank you for a beautiful prompt, Priceless Joy!

Read more short stories here: