Thursday, January 16, 2014

Theme 14: 2014: Brevity

From @sansamrith: 

He looked around the room, 25 minutes before the final bell. Huge answers sprawled over pages and pages of paper around him, by desperate students trying to scribble whatever matter they could think of. Yet he sat there coolly smirking, unfazed, for he remembered his professor’s words: Brevity. That is the key.

From @Icebrutlyer: 

The despicable old hag had finally died after clinging on stubbornly for years in her vegetative state, blissfully unaware of all the fights and hindrance she caused. The game of passing the hot potato was finally over. It was time to read her will, split the spoils. “All for charity, burn the rest.”, it said.

From @hinnaz: 

So much to say, such little time. I peered at that tiny piece of paper and thought, "a memo? That’s how I’d tell him I had always loved him?"

Braving myself up to this I scribbled in my neatest best,

“It was always you, will always be you.
Yours forever

He understood it, perfectly.

From @aalfpaayil: 

The pile of journals in the attic didn’t go with my late father’s character.  Words from him were rare treasures we used to long for. I dusted the one dated 1982 and selected a random page. I choked at the picture of a one-year-old me holding dad’s hand titled “His first steps,” and read on with tears flowing down my cheek.

From @donbratman: 

She hated her job. Poverty and destitution had forced her into it. She wanted to become a doctor. Everyday was the same. Today, her boss had asked her to keep it brief. It was a quickie. She walked into Sam's house, slit his throat, and walked out. She was Maya- the deadliest assassin in Europe.

From @DayaDarwazaTodo: 

Hand written letters, poems on Google notes, Whatsapp messages the size of emails, and then emails themselves. For him it wasn’t a choice. Hundred percent communication was a way of life. He lived to express and expressed to live.

For her, things were different. Her chosen path was brevity.

From @Annoying2YrOld: 

A week since he died. Separation, even in brevity, is intolerable. She can feel her cheeks getting wetter as the prayer beads roll through her thumb. Freshly bathed, tucking a gajra in her braid – she climbs into his bed to join him for eternity. The maid would find the body next morning.

From @snehzana: 

Zainab's afternoon siesta was always disturbed by the constant cackle of crows, chirping of sparrows & insane mumbling of her ammi. After all what they have to talk so much about & why did they talk so much. The art of brevity was lost on her winged friends and ammi.

From @kanakkupullai: 

They were now officially wedded. There was celebrations all around. Happy faces everywhere. In that brief instant, she had become a wife! She smiled through blobs of tears that dropped down... tears that dropped into silence.
She stared at the emptiness bearing down on her. Just for a brief moment, she dreamt she was married.

From @ungaayaa: 

The reception was coming to a close. Shivya seemed restless, constantly looking for him in the crowd, yet managing to fake-smile at people, being the bride.
"Sorry Shivya" said Sharath as she was walking out of the wedding hall. It was the first word he'd spoken to his sister in the last four years.

From @MsMecheri: 

“This a beautiful place, son”

“Yes dad, absolutely! Please wait here, I have a brief meeting, I’ll be back soon.” And that was the last Rajan had seen of his son. 30 years on, every evening he’d return to the same place and wait for his son. All in vain; for he had never returned.

From @meticulousBlues: 

'I am a miser when it comes to words, am I not?'
'You are.'
'Doesn't that irritate you?'
'Of course, it does.'
'Being curt isn't necessarily a bad thing.'
'It isn't?'
'No. Since you don't throw words lightly, you mean everything you say.'
'I do.'

From @podidosai: 

Two people have been talking to me for nearly a week now. I have maintained silence thus far. But it is time for me to break the prolonged silence. Hundreds of eyes focused on me but one pair longingly looked at me. “Guilty”, I pronounced.  Breaking the silence and the nib!

From @ajaw_: 

It was past midnight. He parked his bike in a hurry and rushed upstairs. The doorbell was pressed impatiently. When the doors opened he barged his way, past his half-awake, puzzled sister, to the dining table. He pulled his laptop out, recollecting that day’s topic! All he had was 55 words and a few minutes!

No comments:

Post a Comment