Category Archives: flash fiction

Dreaming

In the last couple of weeks, two of Luna’s closest people have texted her, asking her how she was doing, all of a sudden. After a bit of talking, both of them confessed to having seen her in their dreams – but it wasn’t a good one, in both the cases. Typically, Luna is not the kind of person who goes looking for answers – answers to whether these dreams were signs, that something terrible and tragic was to befall upon her! She believed in none of this nonsense.

These two dreams were seen and experienced by people who did not know each other at all, but both of them knew Luna pretty well individually. When Luna had heard the first dream (God was it sad!), all she did was assure the person who saw it, that she was doing well and there was nothing amiss. What else could she do? But when she heard the second dream, curiosity caught hold of her. “You were chased by a serial killer, with some kind of a weapon in a very lonely street, where everything looked dark; and I stood there helpless and crying” – she remembered her friend saying on call. What if these indeed are signs? What if someone is trying to give her hints via her loved ones, to safeguard herself? Suddenly, she wanted to know more.

Luna’s thoughts were interrupted by the loud volume blaring from the speakers of the television.  Since the past few days, the local news channels and newspapers are filled with news articles about a runaway psychopath. The eye witnesses claim that he always carries with him a very clean, sharp and jagged knife. He’s suspected to be responsible for multiple murders in a nearby locality, but the authorities have found no reliable proof yet. If it were in Luna’s hands, she would never have wasted her precious Sunday morning surfing news channels, but currently the remote was in her brother’s hands, so she didn’t complain. She had to unwilling listen to the psychopath’s tale for like the 200th time since it first started surfacing!

Having a bad dream is terrible, Luna was wondering, but waking up with a bad dream and then REMEMBERING it, is the worst! We have to carry that dream with us the entire day, slogging wearily to ward it off; but instead we rather unknowingly, analyse it and picturize it again and again, on a loop. Slowly, we tend to become so anxious that there’s a constant feeling of dread looming above us, like a silent, floating cloud, she concluded.

How I wish that I could tell the seers of such dreams, thought Luna, that dreams are nothing but fragments of our own anxiousness, forming images and stories in our subconcious mental space. But could I tell them that? she asked herself, No way! But why not? She pressed on, maybe, because, in a way, I too wanted to believe otherwise?

After having their breakfast, her brother turned off the television, finally! thought Luna, to have a late-Sunday bath. After he was gone, Luna turned back to reading her book, which she wanted to finish in time – for her online book club discussions. The doorbell rang. Luna wondered who it was – they had very few visitors ever since the lockdown started. She peered through the eyehole, he seems to be some stranger, maybe a new courier man? Luna wondered. She opened the main door. Standing before her was a man approx. 5 ft 4 inches tall. His beard was unshaven and moustache was unkempt. “How can I help you?”, Luna asked him. But he spoke no words. All he did was point downwards. As she couldn’t see what he was actually pointing at, Luna opened the safety-door to have a clear look. Turns out he was pointing at his right wrist, in which he was holding a clean, sharp and jagged knife, that was glistening with some drops of red on it.


— Suri

Stories

We all have different stories. No two people living on this planet can have the exact same story. Each one of us has a different set of the past, the present and the future. We can have similar stories, and sometimes that’s how people connect. But at other times we have our stories so entirely different than those around us that we may find it very difficult to connect. There are no connecting dots or no parallel lines or – if geometry interests you that much then, I’d say – no concentric circles!
Yet, we – as social beings – have to find ways to connect through those differences.

Every day is a new day. Each day brings us new hope, new opportunities, new experiences. Some days are good, while some are not as good. But they are part of our story, aren’t they? The good days, the bad ones, the ones where we cried for a small bar of chocolate and also the ones where we cried out of joy at the birth of our child. They all help in creating an outline of our story – the particularly major ones.

I believe that our stories create us as an individual, as a human. Yes, our decisions mould us into an individual. But what are those decisions based upon? – our experiences! And what are those experiences? – our stories!! So take wise decisions and make your story the best one of all, let it reverberate throughout the histories of the future.

Good luck. Have a nice day!

– Suri

Missing You.

Why does a farewell always come with a grand celebration? Why are those bits of extreme happiness expressed, when the worst is only about to arrive? Why do people even have to be extra sweet while they are about to leave? I don’t know if it’s just a kind gesture, or a formality or the hiding of sorrows, but to me it feels like a plain slap on the face. Like, ‘Hey! Come back to reality! I’m leaving, you know?’ Great.

Of course, nobody knows when they are about to leave. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about the ‘I’m-going-to-die’ kind of ‘leave’. Only the ‘moving on’ stuff. Honestly, when I look back to it, it hurts if there was a sugary conversation involved in their last words. Like, they knew it all along that this day was about to arrive soon. I start to regret why I even befriended them in the first place! But regrets are fatal. So I turn it into resent. Yes, I hate you for not staying put. Yeah, I hold a grudge against you, so what? Does that make me a bad person now? Cool. That’s really what I had always wished to be! *sigh*

– Suri

Till The Last Breath…

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“Aaahhhh!!!”, he screamed in terror and agony. A bullet had pierced though his torso. But the roots of patriotism were still buried deep under his skin. The fury looked like an inferno in his bright blue eyes. Yet, he didn’t let go of the child desperately clutching onto his shoulder.

– Suri

A Caged Bird

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She felt like a Canary in a cage. She tried spreading out her wings; but, at one particular stage, her wings hit the bars of the cage and the cruel reality – of her being trapped inside, within a certain boundary – came to show it’s face.

Disheartened, she recoiled, put down her head and sat at the corner. Dreaming about the day, when she would finally manage to set foot outside her boundaries, spread her wings out wide and fly high above the skies!

– Suri

Curious

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[Image source: Google]

‘Curiosity killed the cat’, they said. But wait…

What if it was a Schrödinger’s cat?

Then, maybe we can hope that it’s still alive (until and unless you open the box, of course).

– Suri

A Lie..

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[Image source: Google]

A tear rolled down by her cheek. Her vision blurred. And though she nearly chocked and couldn’t utter even a single syllable; She braced herself, put on a weakish smile, gave the slightest wink and spoke the smallest sentence, with the biggest lie, “I’m fine.”

– Suri