Feb 5, 2016 Friday Fictioneers
Word Count: 100 words of text, exactly
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Forbidden
©February 5th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
I waited for him, lost in regret.
Twenty years ago, we’d parted friends, but frosty. We had, however, agreed that we would meet on this day, on the banks of the water-hyacinth-clogged river where we’d learned to swim together, spin fantasies about our future, and study for exams.
It had taken me a while to find the spot, but I was here.
I heard a footstep.
“Manush?”
“Preetham?”
He came forward. We embraced.
“I’m sorry for rejecting you, causing you such pain.”
“I didn’t mean to misunderstand you.”
“Friends?”
I looked at the man I still loved.
“Forever,” I replied.
______________________________________________
P.S. Manush is a male Indian name, meaning “Man” and “Preetham” is another male Indian name, meaning “Love,” or “Beloved.”
Thanks, for the fourth time (and why AM I in this crazed story-spinning state this week?) to our Fairy Blog-Mother, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and to Erin Leary for this haunting photo-prompt.
Tags: #Love, forbidden love, Friendship, Original 100-word short story based on a photo-prompt
Feb 4, 2016 Friday Fictioneers
Word Count: 100 words of text, exactly
Genre: Fantasy Fiction
Among the Water-Hyacinths
©February 4th, 2016By Vijaya Sundaram
The King lay in the arms of his best friend, bleeding to death.
“I wish it hadn’t ended like this,” he rasped, eyes filming, a shroud of regret settling on him.
“It’ll be all right, Sire, you’ll see,” said the First Adviser, his best friend, whose hands and clothes were blood-bespattered. “The kingdom won’t fall. I promise. I’ll see to it. And I’m sorry.”
Twilight trod the land. The water-hyacinth-choked river shone strangely bright.
“Will you tell them I did my best, although I failed? Will you bury me with the knife you plunged into me?
The First Adviser wept.
_________________________________________________
Thanks, once again (for the third time today) to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, our gracious Fairy Blog-Mother and host of Friday Fictioneers, and to Erin Leary, for that photograph which is so haunting!
Tags: Friendship and death, Original 100-word short story based on a photo-prompt
Feb 4, 2016 Friday Fictioneers
Word Count: 100 words of text, exactly
Genre: Quasi-historical fiction
Expedition Denial*
©February 4th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Water-plants choked the river. Below, lurked hungry crocodiles. They’d already gone far enough. Food on board was dwindling. The natives they’d met on the shores, strange dark-skinned people (indubitably, cave-dwellers), looked unfriendly. The soldiers on the ships were now close to mutiny.
Their leader sighed. It was all going so wrong, when it had started so promisingly. How was he to face everyone back home?
“We’ve no choice,” he said, announcing his intention to turn around and head home. “Nero’s expedition has failed, because water-hyacinths blocked our passage to the Sudd of Nubia.”
Cheers erupted. He permitted himself a smile.
___________________________________
- For further context, listen to my favorite composer-singer, the mysterious Moondog, who wrote a song about this topic:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1px3kPBusCA - Another cute piece of information on the Sud, or Sudd of Nubia: http://pendletonanderson.com/delights_spring_2014/where_is_the_sud_or_sudd_of_nubia/
Thanks, again, to our benevolent Fairy Blog-Mother host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, who runs Friday Fictioneers, and to Erin Leary for that evocative photograph-prompt.
Tags: Moondog, Nero's Expedition, Original 100-word short story based on a photo-prompt
Feb 4, 2016 Friday Fictioneers
Word Count: 100 words of text, exactly
Genre: Somewhat-Realistic Fiction
Life is But A Dream
©February 4th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
The clouds loomed. The air was still with expectation. Water-hyacinths choked the river.
“Why this route?” I complained for the umpteenth time.
“There isn’t any other route,” replied the boatman, sullenly.
Suddenly, the boat stopped. Now, totally out of patience, I stormed at him. “Why aren’t we moving? Row me ashore, you damned fool!”
He smiled tightly. “Be patient, sir,” he replied. Then, “Look!” he added, pointing.
I looked where he pointed. The next moment, I was in the water, and the boatman pulled away, glee making his face a demon mask.
I tried to swim.
___________________________________________________
Thanks, as always, to our host at Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (whom I have dubbed our Fairy Blog-Mother), and to Erin Leary for the photo-prompt.
Tags: Boatman, Life is But A Dream, Original 100-word short story based on a photo-prompt, Water-hyacinths
Jan 27, 2016 Friday Fictioneers
House of Sand, House of Darkness
©January 27th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Matthieu told me when I bought the house that it was a bad idea. He warned me not to buy so close to the beach.
I bought it. It was beautiful. Old tiled roofs and stuccoed walls made it look charming. Bamboo shoots tied together made a little enclosure on the balcony. I spent my first morning there, sipping café, reading Le Monde.
My first inkling that something was wrong came when I felt a shift in my bones.
I stood up, looking out to sea.
Sand was advancing towards my house, which moved seawards. Fate coalesced.
Darkness fell.
__________________________________________
Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, our Fairy Blog-Mother, for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and to CEAyr for the photograph.
Tags: #Original Short Story by Vijaya Sundaram, House of Sand, Matthew 7:24-27, Original 100-word short story based on a photo-prompt
Jan 21, 2016 Friday Fictioneers, Uncategorized
Piano, Piano
©January 21st, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Word Count: 100 words of text, exactly
Genre: Magic Realist Heartbreak Tale
Softly, you stole her heart, and drowned it.
You spoke of dreams, played songs, and promised … nothing.
Stepping unsuspectingly in the wake of your beauty, your tightly-lidded passion, she was swept away.
And as she gasped for air, waving frantically, her hair was grabbed by seaweeds. Little fish nibbled at her feet. Twisting to look for you, she saw nobody.
Her clothes caught on spikes and coral, as she descended, coming to rest softly on a drowned piano, an ancient thing.
Her hands moved.
Undersea music rippled. A song bubbled to the surface like a sob.
Humming, you sailed on.
_______________________________________________________
Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for being our beautiful Fairy Blog-Mother and warm, gracious host of Friday Fictioneers, and to her husband, Jan W. Fields, for that intriguing photograph!
Tags: magic realist short story, Original 100-word short story based on a photo-prompt
Jan 13, 2016 Friday Fictioneers
Word Count: 100 words of text, exactly
Genre: Magical Mystery Fiction
Worshipper
©January 13th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Nine steps was all it took … and Abida was lost. Dimly, she remembered pushing a gate. There was a railing, and some creepers. The steps were cracked. Spidery veins cut through the concrete.
When she found herself in a vast cave before a melancholy-faced crystal idol, she hoped it was a dream.
What are you? she asked it, as a mist swathed itself around her, touching her with ice-fingers.
In reply, she felt herself being pulled towards the crystal, felt herself being reshaped.
She couldn’t move.
And a carved supplicant took shape before the idol, hands outstretched.
The idol smiled.
___________________________________________________________________
Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, our gracious Fairy Blog-Mother Host who makes Friday Fictioneers a great respite plumb-spang on Wednesdays, right in the middle of our week, and to Amy Reese for that wonderfully mysterious photograph!
P.S. Abida is an Urdu Muslim girl name which means, “She who worships.”
Tags: Idol-Worshipper, Magical Mystery Fiction, Original 100-word short story based on a photo-prompt
Jan 7, 2016 Friday Fictioneers
PHOTO PROMPT © Melanie Greenwood
Word Count: 100 words of text, exactly
Genre: Flight Fantasy
In Plane Sight
©Janary 7th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Every day, two hazel-green eyes gazed from the perfectly polished glass windows of the little airport, and lingered longingly at the Cessna on the tarmac.
The being standing there (and whose eyes those were) seemed ancient. No one else noticed him (or her). S/he leaned on a broom. S/he appeared to be a small bronze statue. Any time people refocused, s/he seemed to not be there. People would shrug, look at their mobile phones and hurry on.
And nobody noticed that the Cessna remained parked.
One day, both vanished. Somewhere in space, a Cessna and a statue blossomed into flame.
_________________________________________________
With thanks, to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, Fairy Blog-Mother Extraordinaire, and to Melanie Greenwood for the photo-prompt.
Tags: Cessna, Fantasy, plane story
Jan 7, 2016 Friday Fictioneers, Uncategorized
Word Count: 100 words of text, exactly
Genre: Realistic fiction
Parentheses
©January 7th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
The Cessna stood on the tarmac, polished and shining in the sun.
Seven-year old Julia read its tail fin: N173VP it read. She looked up at her father, round eyes worried: “Dad, will it take us all the way to Peachtree?”
Her father smiled tightly. “Yes, but we’ll have to flap our arms up and down, like this,” demonstrating it.
She laughed, her eyes still round. “It looks so tiny, Dad,” she said. She didn’t add, “I’m scared.”
“It’ll be all right, sweetheart,” he said. He didn’t add, “I’m scared, too.”
He was acutely claustrophobic.
The plane held. They survived.
________________________________________________
Thanks, as always, to our Fairy Blog-Mother, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting our wonderful mid-week writing salon, counter-intuitively titled Friday Fictioneers, and to Melanie Greenwood for the photograph prompt!
Tags: Claustrophobia, Original 100-word short story based on a photo-prompt, Parent and child, parenthetical remarks
Jan 1, 2016 Friday Fictioneers, Original Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words of text, exactly
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Forgiveness On A Coffee Date
©January 1st, 2016By Vijaya Sundaram
We looked at each other over that promised coffee. It was tepid. A lemony sun shone in the sludgy sky. Outside, a few timid flowers bloomed. The doorway glowed resplendently, its rising sun emitting caffeinated steam-clouds.
“Look, I am sorry.”
“I said stop! but you didn’t,” I snarled, face throbbing from having fallen on it, when I’d tried to avoid his arm on my shoulder, and stumbled.
Rummaging in his messenger bag, he found some Advil. “I’m ashamed. I was too familiar. I was wrong,” he said quietly, holding out his hand which held two pills.
I took his hand.
____________________________________________________
Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, our Fairy Blog-Mother, for hosting Friday Fictioneers, where fiction writers from around the world congregate and share amazing stories! And thanks to Jean L. Hays for the great photograph-prompt!
Tags: #Forgiveness, Coffee date, Original short story based on photo-prompt