Tick-Tock

"The Forensic tests have confirmed that the decomposed body found in the ravines is indeed of the renowned industrialist William Spencer. He was reported missing almost a year ago"

Danny turned off the TV and leaned back into his chair. A frown marred his usual good looks at the moment.

'There is no way they can prove it.' He told himself the thousandth time. He had made sure that William didn’t tell anyone about their hiking trip.

"It will be like our childhood. No cell phones, no work, no commitments. Just two brothers having fun!" Danny had made Will promise him.

His alibi for the day was rock solid. He had made sure of it.

Taking over his company looked like bailing a brother's widow out. What with all the phony debts.

Danny took out the old pocket watch from the table's drawer.

How he had hated William when their father had given it to him. Danny could still feel his nerves flare at the memory of forever being humiliated by his father. Old moron always took Will's side.

Snatching the watch from his twin's dead body was the best thing Danny had ever done. Well, next to killing him.

He had gone all the way down to take it from his broken body. The old thing had survived the enormous fall without a scratch, but somehow it was broken inside and nothing could make it work. Still, it was his trophy!

"Well, you are as dead as your master, aren’t you, stupid watch?"

The watch was stuck for last one year, showing the exact time when he had...

He smirked looking at it...

The Second hand of the watch moved without warning. It's sound echoing like a gunshot in the silence.

Danny froze as he felt the hair on his neck stand up...

A whisper... a voice so familiar... No it can't be!

"Hello Brother..."

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©2010 by Chhaya. All Rights Reserved

This is my first entry for the Magpie Tales :) ... the image of the watch was the prompt.

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Adventure/Comedy : Under 100 words

We must escape.


But how? I think it’s our fate to be trodden by him.


And live in these stinking holes?


Least he could do is to let us bath every day. We are nothing but disposable slaves for him.


Bath, you say! I think that is the only time we can escape. The time when we are pushed from washing chambers


I am scared. errrrr, it’s not so bad here.


Ok. You stay here. I won’t!


A few days later

“Honey! Have you seen my other blue sock? I can find just half the pair.”

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©2010 by Chhaya. All rights Reserved

PS: sorry for not being around.. I m back now and gonna be regular @ writing and reading ur blog :)

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Tragedy: Under 100 words

The knife is sinking in her chest like she is made of butter.

Blood splashing on me with each flailing beat of her heart, in rhythm with the clock.

She always said that there has never been another man in her life.

Splash

It’s not so warm now.

I read the letter yet again.

Mrs. Patel,
Congratulations on your wedding.
Your child has already been adopted.
We can’t disclose any other information...

And she wouldn’t let me touch her before marriage.

Splash

I wipe the blood off the date-stamp.

Feb,1976

What? Wait a second!

The clock ticks away.
Solo

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©2010 by Chhaya. All rights reserved

Inspired by a crazy phone that delivers a text, hours/days after it’s sent

image is googled

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Vengeance: Under 100 words

Have you ever watched helplessly as your family and friends get massacred?
Right in front of your eyes?

I did.

I was just a baby... I couldn’t do anything..

He killed them all.

Gassed them.
Beat them to pulp.

I don’t know how I survived. Perhaps you are stronger when you are young.

I wasn’t going to forgive him.
I had to keep the honour of my tribe...

There was a tiny column in the local newspaper after a few days.

“Man dies of Malaria in the suburbs of Mumbai”

Remember, you don’t mess with the Anopheles.

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© 2010 by Chhaya. All rights reserved

PS: the image is obviously googled :)

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Romance : under 100 words

“Grandpa! Grandpa! ”

“Yes Kiddo! ”

“Are you going to work? ”

“No Kiddo! I am retired now! ”

“Then why are you shaving? ”

He laughs.

“Dad only shaves when he is going to office. ”

Grandpa finishes shaving and picks me up. I touch his face. He has a few nicks. Must be his shaking hands.

“You don’t have to shave now Grandpa! You don’t go to work so no one will mind! ”

“Your Grandma will, little one. ”

He smiles.

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© 2010 by Chhaya. All rights reserved

PS: this is the first instalment of a series covering various genres. I got the inspiration from Karthik’s blog! I will keep these writings less than 100 word long.

Image by Domenico Ghirlandaio (1490)

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Mothers and Sons

Mac hated his birthday. Especially for the last 8 years. He dreaded these visits.

'Don’t I give her enough money? Don’t I pay for those AC rooms and 24 hour attendant service? For God’s sake, she has a TV with cable in her room and so many people of her own age group. Why do I have to go to see her on my Birthday?'

'If I have to clock in those suffocating 10 minutes there then I better get it done with. I have been doing this for 8 years now. I better get used to it.'

He was through with the ritual in exactly 8 minutes after reaching the Old Age Home.

He walked towards his car, with that hated box in his hand.

He knew what was inside it.


'If she HAS to give me a cake then can’t she at least order it from an upscale bakery? Why does she have to bake the cake herself in the kitchen of the facility? Who eats this stuff now? loaded with sugar!'

The cake annoyed him more than his mother’s praises and kisses. His wife was right. He shouldn’t have come.

But then, his mother would refuse to eat and cry non-stop. And then she would have to be admitted in the hospital.

That would be really bad for PR.

After all, he was the VP of the biggest law firm in the city. Or perhaps in the whole state.
He put the box on the passenger seat of his dark Mercedes and drove towards his office. He never took his driver during these yearly visits. He knew how people talked.

Slowly, his mind focused on the day ahead. He had lunch scheduled with a client and then party in the night.
That’s how you celebrate your birthday. Not at a place full of dying people.

He stopped the car just outside his office and picked up the box.

He threw it straight into the garbage bin at the curb. It landed noiselessly, cushioned by the rotting refuse of the city.

A perfect shot.

He was an expert now. He had been doing it for 8 years now. Every year, the box went into that bin.

He drove on, forgetting all about it.

He never saw a pair of tiny hands reaching into the bin. Never saw a pair of eyes shining bright, half with tears and half with anticipation.
The kid could hardly reach it.

His face lit up as soon as he took the box out.

'I knew it!'

He jumped with joy, forgetting his filthy hands and tattered rags. Forgetting the fact that he had not eaten in 2 days.

Forgetting the cold. Forgetting everything!

He opened the box and there it was!

MAC

Written with frosting over the cake!

Exactly the same his mom would get for him every year! From the same place!

She had told him that an angel came and gave it to her for her little son on his birthday, every year!

'She must have told the angel to bring the cake even if she is not there!'

'Mom did not forget my 8th birthday! She could never forget!'

He stopped for a moment... closed his eyes and raised his face towards the sky. Someone had told him, that's where the God fellow lived.

"Thank you Mom. I love you. And I miss you. Please come back soon! "


And then he shoved a tiny fistful of cake in his mouth.


Not really bothering whether the cake bore his name or if it was the other way round.

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© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved

image by Elizabeth Nourse (La Mère)

PS: Happy New Year to all my friends :)

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