Pumpkins

It was pumpkin painting day at school so naturally, Em and Row were thrilled.

Em, despite being thrilled had little artistic talent but she never did let such a small thing deter her. To make up for it, she had imagination in spades, and so she put her whizzing and wheezing brain to use.

She thought hard and hard. And slowly let ideas flow from her mind into the world before her. Everything illuminating with just the barest glimmer, she had so many things she wanted to do.

Row, her ever partner in crime did not deter her. Instead, she helped where her best friend couldn’t. She mixed in colors Em didn’t think was possible and corrected the teensy tinsy mistakes Em did.

They worked hard for the hour and a half they had to work. Both girls giggling and covered in paint. But the most important of it all, they were happy and really really happy.

It was something that was theirs and they were proud of it.


Word Count: 169

Ooh boy, this was fun to write. Photo prompt by Susan on Sunday Photo Fictioner. Bit late in replying to this prompt, I know.

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Beginnings #writephoto

Underneath the magnificent canopy,

the wind blowing ever so softly,

skies painted ever so beautifully,

sun dying ever so warmly.

 

She sat, gazing at the beauty around,

content with everything here.

Entranced by nature’s splendor,

shoulders light and bright.

 

Past troubles and tensions forgotten,

stress leaving her body.

No more dwelling for future anxieties,

what-ifs or could-have-beens.

 

As darkness grew throughout,

she got up, ready to leave.

To not return to this wonderland,

until she’d bested herself.

 

A new place, a new beginning,

no expectations thrust upon.

She’d build herself from the ground,

and return here once more.

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Written as a response to Thursday Photo Prompt- Beginning #writephoto, hosted by the lovely Sue over on Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Blast

Em stood with a smile, her body gently swaying to the beat. All around her, people were smiling, happy, enjoying the music to the fullest. She was too, the music was great, the people were trippy, and more importantly, her target was too.

Maneuvering the crowd to get closer to him was a struggle. But she was no slacker, she would get the job done, and she’d do it with a smile.

When adequately close, Em did a once-over of her target. He was sufficiently drunk, not enough to have lost coherency, but enough to make it easy for her. Looking around, and after determining the crowd’s inefficiency, she got to work.

Loud music and even louder crowds turned out in her advantage. She just walked up to him, pretended to care for her ‘boyfriend’ when he looked like he was about to pass out. After that, getting him away from the crowd was albeit hard, but she persevered.

She made her way out, grinning like a maniac. It’d be a while until the cops found his body.

She’d have a blast. After all, she was doing no wrong, just righting an injustice.

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Word Count: 193

Written as a response to Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner, hosted by Rodger. To read other stories of this prompt, click here.

Flamingo

Stephanie glared at the plastic flamingos outside the mall in disdain. They looked so awkward. She glanced at her watch again, sighing deeply. He should have arrived already. The gall of him, making her come here and arriving late himself. The flamingoes obviously got the brunt of her anger.

She smiled as the music began. Her favorite song, no their favorite song was playing. The memories started to flood her mind. Looking around, she smiled even more fondly. This place had held so many moments for her.

So entranced was she at the song and the past along with that she did not even notice him walking towards her. When she did, she took a double take. He was wearing a suit and looking ruggedly handsome at that too.

He slowly walked towards her, with that coy smile adorning his face. When sufficiently close, he dropped down to his knees, and to her utter amazement and shock proffered a ring towards her.

“Steph I…”

“Yes, Yes. A thousand times yes.” She shouted, not letting him get any words out. ‘

One full hour and many professions of love later, they exited the mall. Suddenly the flamingos did not look half bad.

Word Count: 200

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Written as a response to Sunday Photo Fiction, hosted by Susan. To read other answers to this prompt click here.

 

Daily Prompt: Assumption

A smile that doesn’t reach the eyes,

a laugh that is all too fake.

The small shake of a hand,

subtle hints that tell all.

 

A small, warm, welcoming smile.

A little here, a little there.

One genuine compliment is enough,

to make someone’s day.

 

Assuming you know better

when you have no idea.

Seeing things that aren’t there,

a mountain out of a molehill.

 

But is assumption really that bad,

when it helps people you care?


via Daily Prompt: Assumption

History

History was fascinating, she thought as she walked around the ancient museum. Her eyes were taking in all the glorious relics of the past, her mind whirling at their significances throughout. Her legs were straying too far, her hands were twitching by her side.

She was engrossed in the beautiful display before her, and in her haste in taking in everything before her, she was separated from her group. She shrugged, it didn’t matter, it wasn’t like they’d notice her missing, after all.

She looked around, noticing everything other than the historical relics. All around her were people like her, fascinated by the priceless objects around her, impressed and engrossed in the display. She smiled looking at one particular item, perfect.

Alarms blared around her, and everyone around stared at her in disgust and rage. To steal something from a museum this rich and especially that item was a heinous act and if she might be so arrogant, an impossible one. The easy part was done, now remained the hard aspect. But she was prepared, she’d been prepared for a long time.

History was fascinating, she thought as she executed her escape plan, and she’d guaranteed her place in it.

Word Count: 200

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Written as a response to Sunday Photo Fiction, hosted by the lovely Susan. To read other entries of this prompt, click here.

Spring #writephoto

Em walked down the avenue, the fresh leaves of the spring bringing a small smile to her lips. The green leaves, the soft chirps of the birds around her was bringing a newfound joy within her. The spring did great work to rejuvenate her spirits, to ease her body. She enjoyed the sight as she hadn’t before. She felt her burdens washed away as she enjoyed the small stroll, something that was very uncommon to the usual habits of the young woman.

The past few days had been hard to her. She’d shut herself in, shut the blinds firmly, and completely unresponsive to the outside world’s beauty, wallowed in sorrow. There was no great event in bringing this, there were no sudden changes in her life. Frankly put, she had no reason for the sudden bout of sadness she felt. She’d wallowed in self-despair, hating herself more and more each day, and hating herself for that very thing. It was a vicious circle, and it grew more and more each day.

There were many things contributing to this, she knew them and ever so often took steps in rectifying them. But all was in vain, as she stopped every time. She stopped and then again cursed herself for it, she always did. She always wanted to change, but she never did. And despite knowing that, she always tried again.

She was always full of excuses, she knew that. She had become very good at lying, and especially to herself. It was a bad habit, she knew that and especially because it came back to bite her every time. Yet she never stopped, she just lied and promised herself that it would one day. That day was far coming, and she knew that. Yet, she did nothing.

She shook her head as she sat down in one of the park benches. It’d do her no good to think these thoughts again. All it would serve to do was to bring back the previous feeling of despair, and she did not want that, especially not now. Instead, she concentrated on the pleasant sight before her, taking in the sweet aroma of the spring as she settled down on the warm bench.

She looked at the green leaves, a striking change from the bare winter only months before, a welcoming change and smiled. She smiled at nature’s ability to go from the dread winter to the cheery and pleasant spring. She smiled at the birds, her body filled in warmth from their song. She smiled at the cool wind, providing cool to counter the pleasant warmth of the sun. She smiled at nature, and at herself.

Today was a new day, and she vowed to make it better than yesterday. After all, the harshest winter makes way for the loveliest spring.

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Written as a response to  Thursday Photo Prompt, hosted by the lovely Sue over at Sue’s Daily Echo.

Daily Prompt: Sleeve

She was always smiling, happy to everyone.

He was always sour and unapproachable.

She was adored by many, loved by all.

He watched over their backs constantly.

She was an angel to many who’d met her,

and especially the light of his life.

She was headfast and supportive of him always.

He was just glad she was there.

She tried very hard to fit in,

but there are always hurdles in life.

Slowly, her smiles became strained, her eyes unhappy,

but no one could see it except for him.

She was never perfect despite trying.

To him, she was nothing less, no matter what.

She broke down in secret, showing no weakness.

He became her strength, as she’d been his.

As she cried in darkness hidden from others,

He became her sleeve to cry upon.

 

via Daily Prompt: Sleeve.

Waiting #writephoto

A little girl watches from behind the curtains as a Pied Piper named Death plays a tune. A silent tune immune to children. The little girl watches as the brand of an inverted torch pulls everyone towards the couple that possesses it. Blood is everywhere, their screams echo throughout. No one remembers afterward, except the girl. She cries alone that night because her parents are no longer there to comfort her.

The girl has grown now. She understands Death’s melody but isn’t affected by it. She was innocent before, too pure. She is corrupt now, too evil.

She sleeps without Death having to sing his lullaby. Sometimes, she looks at people around her, wondering who will make the fatal strike.

Her time comes and she is unprepared. Unprepared for death but prepared for a battle. The God in question would have chuckled at her defiance, but sadly he isn’t around anymore.

As she walked out of the dark corridor, she felt disappointed. Not because of the lack of the fatal blow but because of how ridiculously easy it is to turn the tables around.

It feels like she is having a constant battle with Death’s remaining puppets. It is not even worthy of calling a battle, but she does anyway. A girl can hope, right?

The world is imperfect without Death, as it could give rise to people like her. However, she can’t deny that she and Death are not that different.

Cruel and Evil indeed.

waiting

Written as a response to Thursday Photo Prompt over at Sue’s Daily Echo. Check it out here.