The Painting

I asked my mom this morning about the almost burnt painting I saw last week in our attic. Its main subject is a woman dressed in glamor and elegance. She looked like me and my mommy but I am quite sure she is not my granny. To my surprise, mom turned pale and then sadContinue reading “The Painting”

Unfolded: An Ushnik

Dense, wild forest witnessed the tale of one unfolded chair, a tired man with graying hair, a final note, a gun fired. — Photo credit: Unsplash In response to OctPoWriMo 2016 by Morgan Dragonwillow‘s Day 10. — Ushnik (God of Wind orignating from the hairs of the body of the almighty Prajāpati) is a stanzaic Vedic meter. The 7thContinue reading “Unfolded: An Ushnik”

Too Late

As the darkness of the evil night cloaks buildings and city  lights, her tired soul drowned in the sea of strong, weakening beer bites. Unknown he led her into a dark corridor, t’was too late to fight. — ©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo credit: Mike Wilson In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ ThreeContinue reading “Too Late”

Plea to Mourn

Mourn. For all souls lost. Either shot or blown apart, either criminal or civilian, either innocent or terrorist, ’cause they’re all humans. Mourn. For all lives altered by war. Children who grow old without parents. Parents who buried their own child. Fiancee who was not able to say ‘I do’. Soldiers who were not ableContinue reading “Plea to Mourn”

Used to be Mine: A Song-based Fiction

Stranger. That is what I am. Sitting people all in black and white, I am estranged to everyone, except one person. She is the only human who knows me here. But she can never say who I am. — She’s imperfect but she tries. She is good but she lies. — Silence. Murmurs. Quiet sobs. The humans thatContinue reading “Used to be Mine: A Song-based Fiction”

Deep, Dark, Dreary

Her heart ripped her apart. Now it’s my part to take all her wrath. Sharp-as-a-diamond knife cuts through me to end her life. Oh, my pain, is it her gain? Oh, will this cut, erase her hurt? Oh, will this wound, do any good? I froze as her blood flows. I feel the nerves diedContinue reading “Deep, Dark, Dreary”

Mirror: Fiction with Vignettes

I’m an audience for decades now but no one knows I’m watching. — 1945 “Ssshhh,” I whispered to myself. Hiding behind my wooden closet across my huge mirror, trembling with fear, I am finding it hard to breathe. “Please, Lord, don’t let them see me, please, oh please.” — 2015 “You’re such a beautiful lass,” IContinue reading “Mirror: Fiction with Vignettes”

Dual Hands

The same rugged, masculine yet gentle hands which tickled each nerves and gave me sensual goosebumps, have weaved yarnful of lies that ended my life. — ©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo credit: Philip Estrada In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three Line Tales Week Thirty-Three. If you want to join, here are the simple rules: WriteContinue reading “Dual Hands”

Last Choice

I have lived a well-planned life. My mom used to tell me that I have my own decisions, ever since I’m a toddler. I choose what will I wear. I choose what will I eat. I choose anything and everything. Yep. My parents never win. My student-self is as picky as my toddler-self. I grewContinue reading “Last Choice”

Seasons: Epilogue

First three parts were published last Tuesday, Wednesday and yesterday. Warm wind’s blowing. Loud silence’s piercing. With blank mind and an about-to-burst heart, I remained still as I look at your grave. Our story ended, more than five years ago. On that fateful autumn day, when I waited for you. But you never waited forContinue reading “Seasons: Epilogue”