The point of Indifference

(PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson )

The quaint restaurant was a paean to Steven Spielberg. Not only was the rubber killer whale grinning from the ceiling, most inappropriately named “Jaws”, the menu itself was a homage to the ingenuity and genius of one of the greatest movie directors to have graced our time.

“Teething Troubles” was as popular amongst the patrons as an appetiser as was “Minority Reportage” in so far as the main course was concerned. But Venky was least interested in the menu. He was at a crucial crossroad in the journey of life.  She had suddenly turned indifferent. He felt his life diminish.

(Word Count: 100)

This story was written as part of the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS challenge, more about which may be found HERE

For more stories based on the above prompt, click HERE 

 

Anis and the Sig Sauer P210

(Photo courtesy of DB McNicol via Pixabay )

The crow was no more different than any crow could or would have been, when in a state of tiredness. It’s cawing, though, was a bit out of both sync and strength. The sound emanating from within the beaks resembled a string tension produced by a bad violin.

The wretched bird had chosen to position itself in the most hazardous part of the road – right in the middle of a four lane freeway where vehicles were whizzing past in a whirring and screeching frenzy. Anis, vaulted over the railing separating the highway from the meadows and sprinted across towards the weak bird.

The crow made no attempt to move away at the sight of the approaching Anis. Stooping down, he tenderly picked up the bird and moved away towards a deserted shack. Anis however felt a subtle change in the contours of the bird. The body seemed to be hardening. A chill ran down his spine as the crow looked him in the eye and seemed to smile maliciously. As he desperately tried to ‘drop’ the crow down, it metamorphosed into a sleek Sig Sauer P210 firearm and with its muzzle pointing right under Anis’ chin, it went ‘BOOM!’

(Word Count: 200)

Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). Hosted by Donna McNicol . For more details visit HERE

To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, click HERE

Led Zeppelin “UNSOLICITED”

(PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields)

The policeman had an irritatingly uninterested air about him.“Led Zeppelin again? What number was it this time?” Venky realised it was a futile attempt to convince the skeptical cop about his singularly unusual ‘predicament.’

Night after night, Venky had woken up to a cacophony of rock music thundering from the front of his garage. A makeshift stage miraculously appeared, along with a pair of Matterhorn speakers. It was always Led Zeppelin and only he could hear them.

After one song, normalcy resumed as stage & speakers disappeared as mysteriously as they had appeared. Last night it was “The Immigrant Song.”

(Word Count: 100)

This story was written as part of the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS challenge, more about which may be found HERE

For more stories based on the above prompt, click HERE 

The Rustling

(Photo Credit: Crispina Kemp)

The heft of the exquisitely crafted Winchester’ 94 did not seem all that well balanced now. Designed by John Browning and built by Winchester, first in 1894, the 94 was the go-to rifle for every cowboy, ranger and buccaneer. Max knew all these facts. But at this very minute, they had the same relevance to him, what string theory had to a raccoon. The deer which had bounded up the steps in one graceful leap had vanished, nay, evaporated into thin air. And this was not a metaphorical imagination.

A perpetual rustling of leaves triggered by a soft breeze now transformed into a devilish growl. As rivulets of sweat streamed down his face, Max swung the barrel of his rifle in a panicky arc searching for an invisible intruder.  A sudden giddiness overpowered him as he felt the forest closing in on him like a portal being closed.

Then..

(Word Count: 149)

Written as part of the Crimson’s Creative Challenge #40 More details regarding this challenge may be found HERE.

Joanne’s Mutant

(Photo from Morguefile )

“Irish debauchery..22.10..PM..Active..Take down..No prisoners..shoot to kill…shoot to kill..Over”  The voice was precise, unambiguous and assertive.“Copy, Copy, Over”  hissed the compliant reciprocal voice over the scrambled high technology private line.  Joanne jotted down the specifics in her notepad. The paper would be burnt later. Now there was nothing much to do except finish the insipid ice lemon tea.

Joanne was the chief of the Malaysia Mutant Tracking & Preservation Bureau”(“MMTPB”).  A no-nonsense mother of two with degrees in Artificial Intelligence, Machine Learning and Quantum Physics, Joanne was the foremost expert on the nuances and intricacies involving the existence and functioning of mutants. She was also responsible for protecting the docile mutant breed from mercenaries hunting them down to serve ulterior motives.

In a crowded mall in a Tony precinct called Solaris in the heart of bustling Kuala Lumpur, a mutant gifted with the skills of Extra Sensory Perception was being hunted down by a militant outfit. Sipping on a pint of Stella Artois in an Irish pub, the mutant was calm personified. Suddenly all hell broke loose! Staccato burst of gun shots riled the bar as glassed and bottles shattered to accompanying screams of hysteria and panic. Joanne waited….

(Word Count: 198)

Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). Hosted by Donna McNicol . For more details visit HERE

To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, click HERE

VIRUS – The Beacon Of Hope

(PHOTO PROMPT © Randy Mazie )

The lack of maintenance was more a sheer disregard for the extraneous than an absolute lack of funds. Dmitri’s team was occupied with more urgent matters involving, impacting and influencing the lives of millions of men and women. Dmitri’s organisation VIRUS – ‘Voices Influencing Real Understanding Subtly’, indefatigably worked to neutralise the spread of disinformation and deep fake. Targeting troll farms, chat bots and psy-op experts, Dmitri’s extraordinarily brilliant geeks distinguished spiel from substance, channeling and steering online discourses towards a logical outcome. Employing a highly complex & convoluted set of algorithms, VIRUS signified humanity’s one last remaining hope.

(Word Count: 100)

This story was written as part of the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS challenge, more about which may be found HERE

For more stories based on the above prompt, click HERE 

Expectation & Ash

(Photo Credit: Crispina Kemp)

From the refuge of the ramshackle and decrepit cabin reluctantly abutting the pier, Venky zipped up his windcheater. The air was strangely and savagely cold, making his exposed skin erupt into horripilation.  A solitary motor boat chugged along the azure blue expanse of water. The revving engine shattered the calm of the morning. A strong smell of kerosene wafted in towards the cabin as the boat passed by.

Forcing his gaze away from the water, Venky turned back, locked the cabin slowly making his way towards the waiting Taxi. “The problem with expectation is the expectation itself.” Ash had philosophically mused once drying her luxuriant hair after an invigorating swim. He loved to see her after her exercising bouts. She was at her eloquent best. She would break into an introspective monologue on a range of subjects.

She was right. Expectation was a problem. But his only expectation was her!

(Word Count: 150)

Written as part of the Crimson’s Creative Challenge #39 More details regarding this challenge may be found HERE.