Soak no more !! – a short fiction

The Snap-

The fiction-

“But mom, I just wanted to save you time.” A tiny voice justified.

“So, you soaked the clothes yourself.”

The rain drenched kid looked up with pride. “Yes, yes, just like you do before washing”

 “Yeah” she said with a suppressed grin “but I usually don’t wear them when soaking…”

“Okay” her kid said quite obediently. “Next time I will remember it”

It was then she burst out laughing. 

Author's note-

I wanted to write a small but a sweet fiction for - The Surf Excel Matic #soaknomore Contest. And I wanted the kid's gender to be ambiguous so that more people can relate to the fiction. Hope you guys like it.

Saving the Sun – A short story.

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 30; the thirtieth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

The Following fiction won the Silver at Blog-a-ton 30. A warm thanks for everyone who voted for the same.

The Snap-

The fiction-

“Papa papa, the sun is drowning….. The sun is drowning…”

Shouted the small girl as she came in tears, her outstretched hands searching for him. Her pink frock peppered with wet sand tussled around making way for her tiny feet scrambling forward. Her tussled hair swayed around, flirting with the roaming swirls of wind.

He bent down to greet his five year old, his calm fluid gaze meeting capturing her exquisite child eyes. Eyes that right now were filled with concern, a whole hearted concern tinged with passion, an intense burning passion, a kid’s passion held with all the abandonment in the world. Her voice tumbled out of her in parts, not waiting for her to get her breath back.

“Papa….. Papa…….. The sun’s drowning. The sun ………. drowning”

She paused and raised her tiny arms towards the coast.

“We need to do something.” She turned and looked at him. “Don’t we??”

He moved a few loose strands of hair away from her eyes and stuffed them in her easy braids, dried her tears in his neatly pressed shirt sleeves, lifted her of her chubby feet and started to walk following her hand’s direction.

The evening beach was a multitude of activity. A few late joggers plodding across the sand, quite a few bunches of kids playing, some along the coast running with the waves, a few industrious ones building sand castles, some just chasing each other, a few teens playing football with the goal posts marked in sand, people just sitting, relaxing taking in the dusk, it’s simmering colors washing along each rushing wave’s frolic and froth, ample echoes of laughter and joy mixing with the warm wind and it’s moisture laden fingers, the beach was brimming with life spilling at its seams.

And amidst them, he reached to where his daughter was leading him; a few teenagers sitting around in the waves, joking among themselves, laughing at the world, at themselves, at anything and everything, that picked their flight of fancy. Their pretty beach shirts stood out, vibrant and playful, a bold display of their gay and festive mood. They turned around just in time to see the girl say in her voice laden with anxiety.

“Look papa…… The sun’s drowning. It’s sinking, sinking slowly into water”

The youngsters sitting around started to laugh, seeing that their prank on the kid was working just fine. One of them teased.

“A sad day indeed, for the sun to drown.” A few wild guffaws followed.

The kid shouted back. “I have brought my father.”

“Oh Really!! And what’s he going to do.” They challenged back her innocent claim.

“He will save the sun.” his daughter’s chirpy voice sounded firm and decided.

He looked across at the shimmering expanse of water. The sun was indeed in its last phase of the day’s travel. A shower of orange hews silhouetting the world against itself, a lavish splash of shadows running along the line of the coast. The last embers of the sun’s ring were resonating from the other end of the horizon, from its drowning depths perhaps.

He looked at the people teasing his daughter and herself stout & defiant making her stand against them, holding on firmly to him. He couldn’t help but smile to himself and iterate to her in a calm voice.

“Yes, my girl we will save the sun.”

He calmly looked around at everyone laughing and repeated the same slowly, tasting each and every syllable, relishing at the mighty sound of its absurd claim.

“Yes, my girl we will save the sun.”

“But, how shall we do it??” he quizzed her.

His daughter replied determined. “Lasso it papa……”

“Like wonder women”

“Yes papa”

“Hmhm……. For that, we need to bring the sun closer to us, to reach out and lasso it.” He paused thoughtfully for a few seconds. “What we will do is dig a large pit here, so that the water will flow towards us, creating a slant and the sun will roll towards us along with the flowing water and then we will get a chance to lasso it, once we get it near enough. Okay” He asked her.

His daughter hanging on to each and every word of his, his confidence, his easy charisma voiced his full consent. “Okay Papa, we do it.”

He settled her down, loosened his tie, rolled his shirt cuffs and pants and set down digging with his bare hands. His hard fingers furrowing through wet sand, shoveled up large wet lumps of earth with each and every hearty scoop. His daughter joined him at his side moving the earth her father’s digging up away from falling again into the pit.

At first they laughed. The youngsters who pulled the sun’s drowning prank on the kid stood around the toiling father and daughter and laughed heartily. A few even teased. Harsh comments on the silly charade. And then after a few minutes, they simply stood there, witnessing this strange spectacle.

A crowd started to gather.

All the small kids playing nearby joined in the effort, their laughter splaying over the wet sand, just for the fun’s sake; Someone who was building castles nearby supplied with a few bucket and small plastic shovels; People gathered entranced by the sight; stood around captivated by the strangeness of the tall tale; A father and daughter trying to drain the sea in an effort to roll over the sun towards them, so as to lasso it and save it from drowning; Utter ludicrous; a preposterous attempt to pacify a kid; a grown man behaving like a raving kid;

Many just stood gaping at the effort the father was working up with his daughter, the multitude of wet sand flying in all the direction, the pit growing in leaps and bounds with each and every passing second, the sheets of water rushing into the pit, the unfaltering faith that the kid showed on her father, half her anxious eyes set on the drowning sun, half on her valiant effort, her small hands going about their formidable quest, the sun ever so slowly sinking, gently suffocated and smothered by the expanse of blue water despite all their herculean efforts.

“Papa…. It’s gone.” Her voice wavered. “It’s …….. gone.”

Everybody fell silent.

Her father sat down exhausted, looking at the rapidly darkening horizon, an empty horizon, his breath still coming in spurts with all the hard physical work.

“We have to do something papa” she shouted, her voice broken and shrill.

All around, people stood stupefied. Not knowing what to do, not knowing how to confront the honest chagrin in her voice, not knowing how to explain to her it’s all but a ruse to have fun on her innocence.

He stared ahead thoughtfully and said. “It did not work.”

His daughter nodded; her eyes still staunch, too stubborn to cry, to whimper.

“Are we going to give up” He asked, touching her flushed cheeks with his fingers.

“No” she shouted back with an animal ferocity. “No, we are not going to give up”

“Good” he said calmly nodding. “There is always another chance.”

His daughter looked at him, each and every single of his words etched into the solidness of her heart. Nobody in the crowd dared to breath. A few last passing sea gulls were heard, their cries clear reaching out to their fledglings. Even the kids playing with the sand stopped to listen. Parents, teenagers, joggers, picnickers, people who were just relaxing, A couple of old men in their evening walks, each and every one of the motley group that had gathered leaned forward, not wanting to miss anything, anything at all.

The kid’s father continued. “The earth, in fact is round, we can go in the opposite direction and save the sun from drowning from the other side” He paused waiting for his daughter’s reply.

She stood up from her father’s lap, pulled him up, dusted the sand off him with her tiny hands and said in an urgent voice “papa… Let’s hurry.”

And as the crowd slowly parted, allowing the couple to continue on their adventure, the kid stopped.

“One minute papa….” she told her father and turned back and went straight to the teenager who first put her to saving the sun and said in a clear crisp voice.

“I will save the sun.”

And then the father and daughter left, their walk vigorous, unfaltering, towards the sun.

And yes, for those who are still wondering, on whether they saved the sun or not, rush out and see the rising sun. If you look close enough, rally hard enough you might notice the lasso around the corner of the mighty sun and the sun itself being slowly pulled out of the distant horizon. And of course the father and daughter, if you are lucky enough.

 Author's note-

I loved thinking up and writing this story. I am thankful for the image and Blog-a-ton for putting me up to this.  And this story is for my sister, who is always the first to hear all my flights of fantasy. 
PS-

If you loved this short story- then you might want to try reading another one of my similar story - The spring. Both are strongly dependent on nature to bring out the theme of the fiction. 
Have a great day. :)

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. I’m thankful to BLOGGER NAME, who introduced Blog-a-Ton to me, and I debuted in XX edition.

Credits Image - Shades of Orange by Harsha Chittar Courtesy - Curious Dino Photography via www.blogaton.in

The wounds will heal- A 55 fiction.

The Snap-

The fiction- 

“Hold still.”

“Hmhm.”

“I will be done in a minute.”

“Hmhm.”

“It will take a couple of days. But it will heal.”

“Hmhm.”

“Try not to strain yourself until the wounds heal.”

“Hmhm”

And just after he bandaged her, he stammered “I….. am sorry”

Silence fell hard, for once harder than his thrashes.

Author's Note-

When people read my post - Two minutes- A short story, I was asked whether the fiction was about domestic violence. While answering back to those comments, I was inspired to write a shot fiction about the same topic. I wanted the story to be brutal, realistic and hard hitting. Hope you guys like it.

ps-

I am experimenting with my blog's appearance, so guys I would like to have your comments on the topic. Thank you.

The Reeking smell of FEAR – A short story.

The Fiction-

He warmly sighed. A content smile slowly creased the parched end of his dry lips. His old eyes gleamed stark amidst the dark and inert settings. He finally will be a happy man. Finally, a completely satisfied man. He shook his head, slowly laughing to himself. Victory will suit him just fine. A few seconds he reveled. Reveled in everything, he has done to make this happen. To make this happen. He gritted his teeth, gnashing them with a savage gulp of maniacal grin. He was invincible. His planning, impeccable. He will have the last laugh.

Ha! Even the gods, it seemed were in his favor. He calmly looked around himself. A more perfect setting couldn’t be asked for. An inky night, moonless, starless and shapeless. An old steel mill. Shut down quite some years ago. Completely fortified. Each nook and corner of the dilapidated structure guarded rather heavily. Military trained henchmen armed with the best in hand held weaponry patrolling every inch of what remained of the broken down paths. Everybody alert, adrenaline pumped and ready for him. But then, he knew his arch enemy just too well, that this will not stop him, will never stop him. But then he did not want him to be stopped. Did he?

The Mill-

He wanted to kill him, once and for all. To trap, the ghost that he is. Make him bleed. Break him into pieces while laughing at him. He wanted to smell fear on him. The reeking, rancid scent of it and for that he needed to trap him, hook him with the perfect bait. One that is just juicy enough to bite, one that is truly an exultant price, for it to be a mere sham. A living and breathing bait planning its own capture. He smiled looking at himself in the faded out remains of a nearby mirror. A living trap, custom made for his rival, waiting for his scent, for his arrival to snap close the gates on him. For his arrival, salivating at very thought of his capture.

And what an arrival it was.

An arrival unseen; a threat undetected. In the shadows, in the distant echoes, in-between the pauses, he arrived. A predator for his prey, his eyes reading into everything, the thugs with guns, the heavy patrolling, the mill a remnant of its past glory, fingers of cobwebs everywhere, the air ventilations coughing up a mild breeze, the crisp new electronic surveillance installed. Each and every single piece on the board ready, his opponent waiting for him to make his first move. He closed his eyes, darkness engulfing him and in shadows, he began to move into the fray.

A few seconds paused, unfolding into a few long drawn minutes. Nobody heard him. Nobody saw him. Nobody sensed him. And then it happened. From the roof something, no someone fell. A shrill harrowing shriek followed by a dull thud, one that splintered legs and broke a few of ribs. Still alive, spilling blood on the dirt crusted floor, he began to cry for help. The surrounding men gathered and stared at him half stuck with horror and half with fear. How? How did he do it?

“He is here” Coughed up the wounded man just before he concussed, passing out.

“Spread out” They shouted to each other.

“Keep alert.”

“If he is here, then let’s bug him out.”

Amidst all the voiced concerns, their eyes couldn’t help but exchange their unvoiced fear.

In the control cabin, he simply smirked. And so, after all the waiting in the world, he has placed his first pawn on the board. But then, it’s now his move, his counter move. He pulled and played with a few knobs on the control panel in front of him. The monitors threw up multiple images of the mill. His men moving around in well coordinated groups, searching for him, patrolling in a well coordinated manner, good he thought to himself. They still held their ground and were doing everything they were paid to do.

Hopefully, he thought, with all this electronic surveillance and gadgetry, his men did have a chance, at least a chance. And then like clockwork, the entire panel of screens went blank, their feed cut.

“Hmhm.... Lovely.” He sighed. “The next logical step indeed.”

But then, unknown to his predator, he had just activated the last machinations of the trap. He then waited, for the prey, humming to himself the lyrics of some long forgotten song.

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Silence is ominous, if your own heartbeats are all that remains to fill in its despondent blanks. And it was in such stillness of space and time, every single one of them guarding him were picked off. Like fog, the silent assault spread from one corner swallowing it's way covering entire belly of the factory. His hands itched in anticipation. He will soon be here, in my clutches. A few drops of sweat rimmed around his brow and for some vague reason it bothered him. And just as he wiped it off with the back of his hand, lost in thought as to what he was missing, he realized with a calm jolt, he was there, he was there with him at last.

And then he knew that he had him trapped. With a malicious relish he took a deep breath and simpered at his opponent still cowered with the shadows, his eyes alone sharp pondering him.

“Do you know I hate, hate, HATE” he paused. “The names they give you? Pathetic pussies.”

He looked up at the roof with a contemplative grin. “I can understand” he said “understand why the villain feels compelled to elaborate his schemes at some point in the movie to someone. It simply feels glorious. Like fucking gods. Do you get what I mean, like fucking gods!! Huh?”

“Oh and don’t you worry, I have already killed you, took care of that quite some time ago. All it took was some meager quantities of hydrogen cyanide, good old prussic acid and of course a few generous teaspoons of it here and there.”

He paused and looked into the eyes of his opponent with uncouth hate.

“To trick you into coming here, to make you strain yourself taking out my men, who were all dying anyway along with me, to take me, ME” he paused with a wicked a guffaw. “ME…..   Already slowly dying with each breath I take, all the while knowing that the same air is going through your lungs. And that’s the beauty of my trap. You see, I did not want to just kill you. I want to fucking escort you unto death.”

“I knew you are one careful bastard. I knew I had to risk it all to get to you. I knew that I will have only one shot at this. And that why I took too much care, too much fucking care on not to let you know that the air vents were actually slowly spewing the gas. In small quantities, extremely small quantities, with every single second you spent in this mill, working through my men, quite some fucking skill there, I must say and it was then, you breathed your own death. It just required a touch of insanity to put you down. Don’t you think?”

He finally paused and quipped with a melodramatic flourish. “Come, let’s die together.”

“So, you have killed me??” The calm unaffected retort from his opponent hit him in an uneasy spot.

A gnawing pressure grew in the back of his stomach, slowly snaking its way to his vapid breaths. A vague notion that something was wrong; completely flawed about the entire scenario, something he just was not able to put his finger on, something that his opponent has noticed. His face tensed, a few pearl drops of sweat ran along the length of his cheek. What was he missing? What was he….

And then he saw it. Right in his face, his perspiring face, the air-conditioning vents were not moving. Then the gas, the gas has not been circulated.

He turned and looked at his enemy and smiled ruefully. So, his opponent has noticed that new air vents, guessed their need and must have put them out of their misery. So, much for the plan. but then, that's not all, he still had the ace under his sleeve.

“No, I have not killed you. NOT YET”

He yelled infuriated and turned to his final plan. And just then, with a dry distant bang, the entire mill fell into darkness.

“hahahahaha…….. Good move, asshole." He bellowed. "You blew up the fuse box, but my last move, of course explosives are powered up by remote batteries. We are all going to be fucking blown to hell. Even you cannot escape this. The blast will even release all the stored up Cyanide. Nobody gets out of here alive. Hahahaha…..”

And then he felt it in the darkness, his cold stare breathing upon him. His hands flailed searching for the detonator which was no longer there. And then he realized too late, the fuse box, the sudden darkness and his opponent’s stubborn watchful calmness, all a part of the bigger design. He waited for him, fucking waited for him sitting there, to realize his first trap gone awry and give away his final plan, the location of the remote controller, which he deftly turned to as soon as he realized he was tricked the first time, only to be tricked again. He slumped to the ground lost.

The Knight-

And then he heard his voice, the voice of the dark knight himself.

“You want to smell fear OFF me.” His opponent paused. “Do so, I AM FEAR.” His crude voice grated into the pores of the night, resonating alone with the darkness.

He simply couldn’t help shaking, laying there staring at the ceiling. No wise comebacks. No more plans. No more nerve.

The knight slowly dissolved into the stillness of the night, his cape flowing into its darkness.

Author’s note-

I am a fan of Christopher Nolan’s Batman movies and I am quite excited about the last of the trilogy- The dark Knight Rises- to be released in another week. In a sort of commemoration of that, I wanted to pen a story with Batman as a character in it. Batman to me is an iconic character and my most favorite of the super hero genre. He has been interpreted by so many in some of the most exquisite comics and movies. I just hope I did some justice with my portrayal.

PS-

Since I wanted the story to be grounded and realistic, I simply avoided referring to Batman until the end of the story with his name (Dark Knight). Also, I wanted batman to hold a sense of mystery and depict him as an unstoppable force, hence I chose to tell the story from the villain’s point of view.

Overdue - A poem

The Snap-

Overdue- The Poem.

Bunch of blossoms;

Wet and wilted.

Pinch of thunder;

Set and shorted.

Writhed around;

Tethered abound.

Lightening adrift;

Heightening in shifts;

A few wings tore;

From dew drops sore;

The cloud petals bore;

It started to pour.

A pregnant blast;

The rain’s ballast;

Sloshed soaked;

Terrain naked;

Filth; Grime;

Soil and Slime;

In spurts, it ran; rivulets sang;

In leaps; coy peeps;

Along with the flow;

Alone on the plough;

Furrowed through;

A few lost blood drops;

The last few of the million hewed;

Bled with gusto; Honor presto;

Crimson patches; raw earth’s swatches;

Of long forgotten; War begotten;

In satin swirls, those last blood drops;

Ran along in swills;

Searching along;

For a few drops of tears;

A few drops of tears;

A few centuries overdue!

Author's note-

I simply love to write poetry in Tamil. It just flows.Tamil in itself is so phonetically worded, It's orgasmic to create a lovely thought in the language. It's like my first love- each and every time i write poetry in Tamil, the fleeting sensation of immense pleasure, the more you love, the more you enjoy, getting drunk with words.

The above poem is a roughly translated version of a Tamil poem, I wrote a few days ago. I wanted to capture the pain of war and violence in a melodramatic fashion. I hope that you guys enjoy the same.

The Tamil version of the Poem-

PS-

This is the second Tamil Poem that I have posted. If you liked this one, do check out the first one at the link here. Cheers.