Friday, September 4, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 29 - Massacre

From @oink1729: 

“Essay subject is 'massacre' and, please, no Distomo and so on. Good marks for humorous efforts only. Class dismi....” - chaos, slump, head-desk. Phew: At least I won't have to read 32 efforts about babies being bayoneted.

“No Sir.., yes,.. shocking.., 'Belsen was a gas', 'Lidice lol lol' – who would have thought?... Of course I'll resign...”

From @_ankitachauhan: 

There was deathly silence, imprisoned souls, seized minds. A while ago someone demolished all the thoughts, all the questions raised in that little devil’s head. Someone marked the windows, which shouldn’t be opened. He listened, grasped every bit. That world was naive for him, where dreams, hope, and innate desires of his own, massacred already.

From @AshieJayn: 

"And how will you earn a living? By writing appalling songs they call music? No. I cannot have my daughter be a part of this, this musical massacre. It will be the ultimate blow to my entire existence."

"Dad, You taught me to believe in my dreams. In our dreams. Of creating better music.

So Believe. In its power!"

Thursday, September 3, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 28 - Bigot

From @oink1729: 

At night, linking stars with cool earth; during the day refuge from the yellow god. David and Goodwill met under her branches in secret; they were, perhaps, braver than others before them. After a night of dark voices and fire, the sun's early light cast soft shadows from their bodies, hanging from the zeyheri tree.

From @AshieJayn: 

Once upon a time a war of independence bound many regions and states into a country. This country grew to become home and motherland to a billion people. People of many religions, varied cultures and a multitude of languages. 

One would wonder then, how and where does bigotry seep through it's borders?

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 27 - Artist

From @mrinalgupta98: 

The world thought she was crazy because she wasn’t like them. They thought she was lost in her own world. She saw beauty in everything. She talked to the trees, she sang with the breeze and she flew with the birds. She wasn’t lost, she had found herself. She wasn’t crazy, she was an artist.

From @AshieJayn: 

He would arrive at dawn and sit on a quiet corner of the beach. He would be gone before the morning sun broke over the horizon.

Everyday visitors would stop and admire the story drawn in the sand until the evening's high tide washed it away. 
Everyday they would thank the mysterious artist for brightening their day.

From @_ankitachauhan: 

The day she was being left amidst howling of emptiness. Destruction occurred to her. Her wrecked soul flooded, suffocated from remembrance. She stretched her crafty realm. She didn’t even know if it existed before. She arrested into unknown, captured few isolated moments for herself and transformed her every tear into verse. People call her artist.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 26 - Solitary Flight

From @AshieJayn: 

I can travel through time as much as through human beings.
I may travel in singles, doubles or groups - small and large. 
But my most favourite journey is when I break free from all ideas and the so called practicality and soar high above the clouds in solitary flight.
I am a thought, a fantasy, a dream.

From @_ankitachauhan: 

A teardrop trickled down his fragile feathers while watching them to fly. One by one all the owlkids left the nest but the fluffy one. He too tried to spread wings, limped, crumpled, tried again but those undeveloped muscles weighed him down. He understood he has to wait as nature wants to embrace his solitary flight

From @oink1729: 

I preferred books over people: interesting, yet reliable; emotional, but not destructive. Flying over life, reading on the plane! Strapped in and now descending to a silent and unpeopled landing strip, I find I can recall only in miniature: grid like towns, neat squares of forest, nothing. Get real: books are a load of crap.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 25 - Naughty

From @AshieJayn: 

"Hey, remember the time we ate that chili chocolate cake at Smriti's place?"
"Oh yes! I still wonder how all that chili ended up in it."
"Don't you know? Her kid brother did it for not letting him play with us and then charmed us into eating it. Smriti says his son has totally taken after him."

From @aaroo4: 

What are you doing? He asked the child
I write words I don’t know on this paper that mommy gave & we find it in the dictionary
What word you writing now?
You don’t know that word? he asks with a grin.
No, am a good boy no.

From @Zoarcher: 

She happily wobbled towards the living room, flashing her toothless smile. Suddenly a loud “BOO” caught her unawares. “He and his tricks”, she thought lovingly, “every day up to something”. She turned slowly and admired the mischievous glint in his cataract-blurred eyes. She hoped he would never change. Always remain impish, till the very end.    

From @_ankitachauhan: 

Wickedness is nothing just an ebb and flow of hormones. Don’t judge because some reactions going inside my body at least. I give you more reasons to be cynical as skin colour, body stats and my weight. Go, expand your literacy level. But keep your eyes-off from that zone where I still stay as naughty.

From @oink1729: 

Naughty Wrongflop inherited from her father an extensive collection of pornographic writing and had, some years earlier, inherited a similarly extensive collection of religious texts from her uncle, the famous Bishop Wrongflop. It amused her to house both collections together, sorted alphabetically. Arranged so, the unwilling participants in the battle of ideas, finally at rest.

From @dr_lucy_says: 

“Mumma, my teacher told a story about Naughty. He had a friend called Big Years.”
“You mean Noddy and Big-Ears?”
“Nooo, it was Naughty.”
“Okay! So, what did he do?”
“He had a hat with a bell.”
“Ma, I want that hat too, I want to be Naughty.”
“Oh honey, believe me, you are.”

From @dr_lucy_says: 

Leather didn’t do anything for her, but she had read that some preferred leather over lace. So, she thought about giving it a go.
Crop top. Check.
Hot pants. Check.
Boots. Check.
Handcuffs. Check.
Whip?? Umm…  Check!!
She was going to show him that she was done being nice. She’d take him on a whirlwind.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 23 - Pornography

From @_ankitachauhan:

I never watched porn, not because some moral issues. I don’t think I would like it, I mean it’s a process of human birth. You can find each detail in those heavy science books too.

Past days when I found this PornBan Hash Tag, I had a great laugh on the stupidity of so-called law-makers. 

From @oink1729: 

There's nothing worse than failed pornography, and all pornography is failed pornography. Only words can return us to the pre-Christian unity of the physical and spiritual, indeed... Mr. Sauce's thoughts rudely interrupted by the Bishop: “It's not brain cancer man! You've no excuse!”

“Nurse, new symptom. I've got this pain in my ass. Could you?”

From @oink1729: 

“The sun encrusted ankle bracelet playing soft shapes of light on your brown skin..”
“Your sun..”
“The sun shaped bracelet coruscating gentle light on your beautiful ankles, you turned, and..”
Sigh, 55wordporn really shouldn't be this hard to write.


From @AshieJayn: 

“Have you seen the photographs?”
“I told you, I know absolutely nothing about this stuff.”
“I’m not asking you for a thesis. Just have a look and tell me if you feel something. Call me back!”
Three and a half minutes later. “Man! Food looking like this should be illegal. I’m firing my cook and moving in with you.”

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 24 - Malice

From @aaroo4: 

C’mon repeat it 5 more times and you can go play.
But mama, what he did was wrong.
Yes,but what you did was wrong.
I am sorry. I just wanted him to feel the pain I felt when he pushed me
No, baby not done. Say it aloud “I bear no malice towards others”

From @AshieJayn: 

She was a child when she was captivated by the gracefulness of Bharatnatyam. However, we had no choice other than to discourage her. 

Being a family of meagre means, one would think we bore malice to her chosen art form.

But how does one explain the choice between necessity and luxury to a seven year old.

From @_ankitachauhan: 

People humiliate us, try to destroy us by blurting harsh words. How people kept that much malice inside.

Though I’m not saint or some preacher but feeling of revenge drags me down into the chamber, surrounded with black walls, As if I am chopping off my soul. So I ignore them, only method that works.

Sunday, August 23, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 22 - Love in Small Letters

From @oink1729: 

Our love is written not with dramatically capitalized nouns running, out of breath, into firm, sentry-like, exclamation marks: Oh Joy of Tumultuous Fate! It is written with semi-colons, tender parenthesis, lists. A making things work, muddling through fuck-ups kind of love. A love that will leave this world holding hands. A love in small letters.

From @_ankitachauhan: 

Strangers come into our life with an option of certainty. “Love wouldn’t be enough, no matter how much we exhausted from it.  Their small gestures, tiny talks and kindness saved our life for a while. 

Although we know we can’t reserve them forever, still their silhouette outlasts the time. Little things matter.

From @ashiejayn: 

The third night in a row I was home past her bedtime and my heart strangled with guilt as I watched her sleep.
A folded sheet of paper peeked out from under her pillow, addressed to me.

The simply worded letter written in her small hand felt like a surge of love flowing through my body.

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 21 - Meet Again as Strangers

From @oink1729: 

The strange temporal dislocation of meeting you; familiar gestures imbued with an unreal, almost artificial, quality. Between the reality and the memory falls the shadow, I laughed inwardly, remembering how you had read me “Prufrock” and “Hollow Men” that late June day. That memory will always be part of me, though you no longer are.

From @GmaneGawade: 

I remember the first time we met. The first words we spoke. We were both so naive and conscious. Your questions answered but mine still lingered as questions. My feelings unspoken and thoughts  uncomprehended. We don't do this anymore. I met you as a stranger and I hope someday we'll meet yet again as strangers.

From @dr-Lucy_says: 

 “You know, I had hots for him back in college.”

“Hah! How can you say that to me? I’m his wife now!”

“Hey, just kidding!!!”

“Well, here he is. See you!”

“Hi, how are you?”

“I’m good.You?”


**Sigh, I still love him**

**Damn, I still love her**

“So… ummn… okay then.”

“Okay, Bye!”

From @AshieJayn: 

Covered in dust and cobwebs, her eyes came to rest on a looming shadow. "You're still here?", she exclaimed as the imposing gramophone stood out despite the darkness. 

She no longer felt any resentment towards it for being his first love. "Well, hello stranger!" she greeted cheerfully and pulled it out. "It's time we got acquainted."

From @_ankitachauhan: 

I love to touch her skin and feel the spine. We often meet as a stranger. But there is secret pact between me and my book, after savouring every bit, I hide her inside one of my bookshelves, and People think it’s some kind of disorder, schizo…? Everybody deserves pure madness in love, even books too.

Friday, August 21, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 20 - You Never Call

From @dr_lucy_says:

“Hey! You're late again.”
“Yeah, got caught up in work.”
“But at least you could have called, I was waiting for you!!”
“Humph! I’ll do that next time.”

**He sneaks away**

**She picks his phone and sets a repetitive alarm for all days saying “Call your wife if you are going to be late!!” Sniggers! ** 

From @meetumeetu

7.2 billion unhappy people. 

“But that doesn't add up,” He thought as He began the count again. “Something’s amiss...aha! Caught the glitch...”

Sarah went about her life with a smile, facing her worries chin up, when her son met with an accident.

Even God can't wait to hear from the one person who doesn't call.

From @aaroo4: 

She gave a long kiss and left home. He waited patiently, the clock ticked by. He had lunch, slept a while and waited. Suddenly the doorbell rang, she walked in. He looked at her with eyes that said “you never call”. She bent, rubbed his belly as he flopped and told him about her day.

From @oink1729: 

Bishop Wrongflop-Sauce felt the beginnings of a spiritual crisis. Not only had his delinquent brother mass distributed the risible “Cosmopolitan Thinker” throughout the parish, but the Women's Institute had called a debate on “Does the Church Hate the Female Form?”, and invited Stephen Fry.

On his knees weeping in the presbytery: “God, you never call!”.

From @_ankitachauhan: 

I caught myself constantly calling you in the past nights, and you never called back. I wanted to envelop into warmth of your voice. Is there some alternate of your loved one’s mouthpiece? This darkness engulfed me in night, like a hell.  Does network properly work after death?

A long phone call is awaited. 

From @AshieJayn: 

The rain peeked  through the window, dripping down the pane, searching for him. Daylight was darkened by the cloud unleashing its fury.

He sat in the closet, hiding between layers of her forgotten silk dresses and wondered why she didn’t call his name anymore. He felt so alone in this game of hide and seek. 

From @meetumeetu: 

7,992,258,184 billion unhappy people.

“But that doesn't add up,” He thought as He began the count again. “Something's amiss...aha! Caught the glitch...”

Sarah went about her life with a smile, facing her worries chin up, when her son met with an accident.

Even God can't wait to hear from the one person who doesn't call.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 19 - Solitary

From @oink1729: 

A rain enclosed late September afternoon, a window, a book, a solitary intimacy. Rain and words commingling, the rains falling, the pages turning, peace. But then the book ends and I want to see you again, and I don't know how to. Behind the fields, behind the trees, a violent unreal sunset. An unquiet mind.

From @aaroo4: 

“Ma, what does this word mean. “H e r m i t" she spelt the word slowly
Just read the book, leave me alone” said the mom
“Tell me this one thing, I promise I won’t ask again” she whispered
“Well, Hermit is someone who lives alone, like your Granpa” said the mom walking way

From @GreaterBombay: 

Behold her, single in the field…” 
“You, in the back! What’s so funny?”
-“Nothing, miss!”
…Or is it some more humble lay, …
“Boys! Laugh at Wordsworth again, you’re out of class!”
“Sorry miss!”
“...I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending...
“That’s it! Outside! Both of you!”

From @AshieJayn: 

Have you noticed how even a lone little candle can brighten up the dark world around it?

But when it joins hands with many more such candles, it becomes a powerful medium. A single force bound by its unique glow. 

To achieve success, all you need is to light that solitary spark in your heart.

From @mrinalgupta98: 

They say humans are social animals and need to associate. They say you cannot survive alone, but she did. Not that she had a choice. Abandoned after birth, she grew up alone on the streets. She existed solitary and now she is alone on her death bed. Being crippled sure changes a lot of things.

From @meetumeetu: 

"So, heard about the water shortage this year?" She asked like any stand-up comedian would start a joke.

"Yyyepp! 30% short. I don't get these farmers though. If they've no rain, let them have water tankers." She grinned at a booing crowd. "Come on! Wouldn't Marie Antoinette say that?"

Her humor had but one fan.

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 18 - Angst

From @shivom_oza: 

2 boys, both victims of domestic abuse, used to live in the same neighbourhood.

One grew up to become a social activist working for the cause of eliminating domestic violence.

The other, ended up becoming an alcoholic and a wife-beater.

Angst is omnipresent. It's totally up to us – what we choose to make of it.

From @AshieJayn: 

I was younger when I grew my hair from the chin length straight cut to mid-back length. How I loved to style it and feel it fall down my back in glorious waves. 

Now, on a bad hair day I just want to take a pair of scissors to it. 

Strange how patience freezes into angst.

From @GreaterBombay: 

You there, with your hashtagged first-world problems: Your annoyance with not-quite-apt emojis; 
Your disgust with the waiter’s thumbprint on your plate; 
Your quest to find one band no one’s heard of yet;
Your fear that your accent gives away your background;
Your concern over Jon Snow’s fate…

I want to trade lives with you.

From @oink1729: 

Perusing the galley proofs of “The Cosmopolitan Thinker”, a satisfied Reginald Wrongflop Sauce imagined a revolution. The diversity of the 55 word pornographic stories was indeed impressive: gay, straight, spanking, fish-tanks. A sexual revolution in Times New Roman font! Any angst concerning subscription numbers was ameliorated by..


“But nurse I'm..”

From @mrinalgupta98: 

He used to worry unusually. He would be anxious if his roommate was late, his mother didn’t call or even if his cat was quiet. Angst came natural to him.

Everything made sense when he held the paper in his hand. Nothing was his fault. It read,

Patient Name: Ritvik Acharya

Diagnosis: Generalised Anxiety Disorder

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 17 - Float

From @shivom_oza: 

He never got the things he chased after - be it money, success, friendships or love. Happiness came to him from the most unlikely situations.

It was then that he learnt - maybe he isn't supposed to surge towards his wants. All that he must do is remain afloat, and he'll get what he needs.

From @aaroo4: 

He saw his son hold onto the photo tightly in his tiny palms as sleep caressed those eyes. He was sure that within minutes the child would float away to dreamland and all will be forgotten till next morning. Alas, he could not say the same for himself. He missed her and sleep eluded him.

From @dr_lucy_says: 

It was a dark day. The clouds loomed above them, casting outlandish shadows over the sprawling fields. Everyone was in daze, gaping at them, anticipation apparent in their parched eyes. But the clouds started clearing away without shedding a single drop. Nothing was left floating above them. Not even hope.  It was a dark day.

From @_ankitachauhan: 

And that day she was freed from the thread of affection. She began to float in the nothingness, just like a gentle bird’s quill. All the —maybe, maybe not— suspended. The fear of separation ripped apart. An impulse of love folded, comforting gaze lost its essence.

The day when he sternly uttered 'I need space.' 

From @GreaterBombay: 

"Ice-cream with Coke? That's disgusting." 
"Well, in Eastern Europe, they make Coca-Cola soup. .. "
"Stop! You're making it worse!"
"I think an Elvis fan has no business being grossed out by food." 
" Meaning?"
" He'd have fried banana in his sandwich, for God's sake. Even Jughead had cream sodas at Pop Tate's."
" Really? Chal I'll try one."

From @CruciFire: 


“Somebody save me…”
“Try to stay afloat love; I’ll come back with a lifesaver, I promise.”
“Come back soon… this brown water… this white iceberg…will be the end of me. It’s freezing in here.”

*A finger scoops him up and throws him out*

“SO many flies here, man.”

“Boss, please replace this coke float.”

From @TheQuietBelle_ : 

You were like the ocean at night - a beautiful, dark, cold, mysterious, inviting expanse of blue. She, besotted with intrigue, dived head first completely oblivious to the storms brewing in your depths. She valiantly fought against all the turbulence you offered, trying to keep from sinking. Ironic how only when you had sucked every last living breath out of her did she finally come afloat. Light. Happy. Lifeless. Dead.

From @AshieJayn: 

A gust of wind picked it up from the flower bed and carried it across the garden. The rose held itself together until it just couldn't anymore. The winds pulled the petals from the stem and finally set them free. 

If only I could be like that. A free spirit, floating in the breeze.

From @nobar_code: 

Was it the shoreline or the feeling of being swept by the waves, which worked wonders on his soul. He felt light, almost like being buoyed by an invisible force. A combination of lethal drugs and here he was reduced to a catatonic state. Staying afloat with the help of an analgesic; not done.

Monday, August 17, 2015

#55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 16 - Twinge

From @meetumeetu: 

He prepped himself for another operation. The routine procedure needed one change.

1. Get attracted.
2. Get attached.
3. Attack, be attacked; hurt, be hurt.
4. Dress the wound.
5. Rip the bandage.
6. Rinse, repeat.

"She's beautiful, what a lovely conversation," his heart sang as his mind prepped to skip steps 2 to 5.

From @shivom_oza: 

In a fit of rage, he threw away all the food before him into the dustbin. Back then, he felt euphoric at having gotten back at his nagging wife.

Nowadays, whenever he sees a homeless child begging for food, while commuting - he is reminded of that incident - this time, accompanied with a twinge of regret.

From @_ankitachauhan: 

A sharp needle penetrated her upper dermis. She felt a sudden twinge. She grunted, wavered and precipitated on the floor. His heart sank. After losing parents she had become the real definition of love to him. When Vat declared about completion of his pet’s life-span, he was the one who actually sensed a little death. 

From @nobar_code: 

If waiting for the bus wasn't enough, the uncouth crowd was too much to ask for. Thanks to slum rehabilitation scheme, scores of those living in shanties crowded into the suburbs, unchecked. The other day a sharp strike at the head made her realize, that transitioning from huts to flats, didn't make them look civilized.

From @GreaterBombay: 

Her toes were already protesting, arches frankly sick of holding her up all day, as she eased off d'orsay peeptoe patent pumps and walked into baby's room. Blood rushed back into tortured soles. Cool tile shot new energy into each step. Her day had begun. Nothing mattered now. Not even stepping on a Lego brick.

Sunday, August 16, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 15 - Loss

From @shivom_oza: 

Whist a man - whose luggage had been misplaced by the airline - created a huge commotion at the airport, his co-passenger, who was traveling to collect his recently-deceased son's ashes, gave an expressionless stare to whoever came in his way while exiting.

That's the thing about loss. We've got our own ways of coping with it.

From @_ankitachauhan: 

After all those years, my skin still yearns for your touch, I close my eyes, feel your fingertips on my back, those little pats of appreciation. They said ‘Time will heal’ but I’m not able to bury your memories, not a single one. You’re still alive through my heartbeats.

Will you return? Just for once! 

From @nobar_code: 

Her eyes were staring into eternity, her face stoic. It shouldn't have ended like this. Her dream run was over. She was written off, for the slightest to no blips, or did trivial things matter at all. "Women lacked the brute physical strength", that thought loomed  large over her head. "What's the torque setting again?".

From @mMrunal: 

His first novel broke into the top-seller chart within weeks. Motivated from this success, he looked forward to write a thriller. He went back to his workspace, raced around with his creative mind and started writing.

But, God had other plans for him. He met with a car accident.

Memory loss changed the complete story.

From @GmaneGawade: 

A memory of this old lady from the time I was 4. Her kindness touching hearts. Her love unconditional and thoughts above the vanity of youth.I was growing up and she was growing old. All I could say to her ' Grandma I want you back right now'. Her eyes wide open. Her body still.

From @4amThakkar: 

"So, your graduation's done.
What kind of girl are you?
Family oriented or career oriented?
Are your views modern or traditional?
What's next?
Marriage or Masters?
Do not wait too long. The good guys will be gone by then."
She was at a loss for words.

Description: 'the fairer sex', one woman at a time.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 14 - Cosmopolitan

From @_TheQuietBelle_: 

I never really did understand the concept of drinking away ones sorrows. For me, no answers lie at the bottom of that Cosmopolitan. For me, there is no respite, relief, reassurance in inebriation. For me,  every drop of alcohol assimilates all the love I ever felt for you into a singular mass. Throbbing with yearning. Growing till it consumes me whole.

From @banjaarann: 

" She was a cosmopolitan, suppressed into her territory. The kind of a cocktail, that was a little inebriated and a lot sensed; yet filled in a glass!

Looking out of the window, when the birds took flight in front of her, she gave a cry.

Being an Indian girl is a very tough job! "

From @oink1729: 

Reginald Wrongflop Sauce lay in his hospital bed and plotted. The magazine would be called “The Cosmopolitan Thinker”, each month to contain a selection of 55 word pornographic stories.


He composed: “As she bent over to pick up the book, her ankle length skirt..”


Friday, August 14, 2015

55wordstory - Season 4 - Theme 13 - Cocktail

From @thatdelhidamsel: 

I sit alone in my apartment. A brilliant book and some memories are by my side. It rains and I do not need music anymore. I need some time alone, with my heart and thoughts. Tonight I stay in, tonight I dwell and introspect. Tonight this coffee is my cocktail and the book is my friend.

From @coffeedesk: 

Nervous, she turned her head and smiled at him as warmly as she could muster. The tension between them was palpable. He smiled back as he flipped the switch. Those watching knew this cocktail would change everything.

As she slipped away, she couldn’t help thinking about how much she wished this night would end.

From @vanwynkle: 

He looked at his pregnant wife one last time. Images of his slain sister and mother flashed before his eyes. He was a potent cocktail of emotions. Revenge, ecstasy, guilt, anger; allowed to ferment over time but never watered down. She looked at him as if to ask something just as he pressed The Trigger. 

From @oink1729: 

Packing, the photo caught her eye. The sequinned cocktail dress sun flecked in the morning light, the degree hat amusingly askew. To cry, briefly, was to admit to a life pushed into the dull afternoon of an ordinary middle-age. The sharp frustration of tasks, the absence of achievement, the compensations of love. The child cried.

From @_ankitachauhan: 

A dimly-lit room and she slipped into her cozy bed with her only companion, a book.
A glowing lamp besides her bed, sheltering the verses of her favorite poetry book, word by word
And prominent strings of Sarod were melting in her ears.
She too might be enjoying cocktail, of her kind, like everyone else.