Tag Archives: Microfiction

Vignette: Anger

Vignette 1
Image Courtesy: Pixabay

Anita kicked the bedpost. Once. Twice. And once more. Third time she missed, and hit the vase stand. Pieces flew all over the room. Broken, shattered bits. Like her. Her mum didn’t see that, didn’t care about that. She cared about the breaking sound. The noise which aggravated her headache. That she compared to the house falling. More like a rats in the cupboard din, Anita thought. It was more than she could take.

She scurried to the garden. Her solace through the years. Not today. The sun was in a bad mood too. His fury burned her skin. The odour of dog poo greeted her instead of the sweet-smelling roses. She picked up a sharp rock. Of course, she would never hurt the neighbour’s dog. Even though he was the re-incarnation of Zoltan. Instead she hurled it at the letter box.

The flowers weren’t co-operative either. The rose drew her blood. The Hibiscus refused to placate her nose. She crushed the flower for the offense. Too late she recollected that the poor flower never boasted of fragrance. The hibiscus wouldn’t become a sweet scented flower just like she couldn’t be the son her mother wanted so much. It didn’t matter. She straightened the crushed petals. She loved every flower just as it was.

*One of my assignments at a Flash Fiction Workshop. The task was to write a piece portraying a strong emotion.

Image Source: Jill111 at Pixabay 

Image is CC0 Creative Commons

Let me know whether you like it or not.Your encouragement makes my day, and criticism makes my writing 🙂

 

Advertisements

Where’s Papa?

Nina ate with her mouth closed, took care that very few crumbs fell on the table around her plate. She did her homework on time. She even cleaned her room.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Papa did not return home early. Not even after she called him to tell him about her best behaviour.

###

Four days! She hadn’t seen Papa for four long days. He came after she slept. And went to the office before she woke up.

She decided to catch him tonight. She wouldn’t sleep that night. Not early at any rate.

“No,” she said when mommy tried to force her into bed. “It won’t matter if you switch off the TV. I’ll just sit staring at it.”

At 8.30 she started fidgeting. Nobody worked at office till 8.30, did they? She stifled a yawn, and played with Smelly, her teddy. At 8.45, she had to physically pull her eyelids, so that they didn’t close. No use. The next thing she knew, it was 9; she was in her bed, and Papa already gone to work for the day.

###

She would catch him before he left. Waking up in the morning was easy. During school days, she woke up at 7.30. She would do it now. She set up an alarm clock for 4 O’ clock. No way Papa would ever leave before that.

Tears trickled down her cheeks the next morning, when her mum said, “why would you set up the alarm at 4? Your poor father couldn’t sleep after it woke him.”

If her Papa couldn’t sleep, the least he could have done was wake her up.

###

This was a part of my assignment at a Flash Fiction Workshop. The task was to write three paragraphs/incidents which could be interchanged chronologically.

Let me know whether you like it or not. Your encouragement makes my day, and criticism makes my writing 🙂

The past

her past
When the past refuses to shut up…

The missing connection

Missing connection

– © Kiran  Acharya (2016)