55 Words

Writing everyday is a challenge for most people i know. Speaking for myself, i lack that kind of discipline. And of course, there is my favourite excuse to fall back on - writer's block. But i've written something everyday for the last week. And i have a very special person to thank for it. This person has gotten people writing again. Reading again (not everybody, but most). People have something to look forward to now each day, even if it is bordering on the addictive for some. 

The idea is simple. A new theme is put up everyday and a story has to be written based on it. In 55 words. At the end of the day, all the entries are put up here. 

This here, is me putting all my stories in one place. If for no other reason than to keep the inspiration alive when i feel brain lethargy creeping in. As the project continues, i'll keep updating this space.

Party

She sat in a crowded room, looking but not seeing, her vacant gaze making people uncomfortable. Her smile, innocent and childlike seemed incongruous, out of place on her lined face. Every once in a while she would nod and mumble something. There was a party going on in her head. And no one was invited.

Wicked

She couldn’t move. Her eyes seemed glued shut and her limbs were heavy as lead. Her head felt all woozy and wrong. Had she been drugged? With great effort she managed to move her head. But the rest of her was as lifeless as before. It was Monday, and her bed sighed in wicked satisfaction. 

Books

She loved how they smelled, that intoxicating scent that she never tired of. She could spend hours running her fingers over them, feeling their warmth, their love. They were her world and more. They were her best friends, her solace, her eyes. Without them, her world was dark. Those raised dots that were her books.

Photographs

She was a vision in white, young and shy, standing next to her proud and handsome husband. Behind them, on the church steps, crowded family and friends, the air thick with pink flower petals and confetti. It was the happiest day of her life. Now it was a black and white memory on her wall.

Sexy

She spent hours soaked in perfumed oils and bubbles. Anticipation had her giddy and breathless. Tonight she would be the seductress. Humming softly to herself, she looked through her wardrobe. She wasn’t in the mood for black lace or high heels. Then she smiled. Yes. That night she met him draped in a satin sheet.

Red

Dark kohl lined eyes. A tiny diamond sparkling on her nose. Full, lush lips caught unconsciously slightly between her teeth. A stray curl lying across her bosom. Gold rings in her ears. A tattoo hidden beneath glass bangles. A bare midriff. Curves hugged in the right places. She was a goddess in a red saree.

Language

A pretty picture they made, one in yellow, the other in white, bent over tea cups and pink buttercream cookies. Golden hair contrasted black perfectly. Blue eyes spread in wonder at the stories and mischief being narrated over tea. They were best friends, giggling over their own personal language. One was real, the other plastic.

Skyscrapers

The Emergency Council had gathered. “I can smell their morning coffee” said one. “Each time I look out my window I have to see at least one of the seven sins in action”. Something needed to be done. Property rates were decreasing. Everyone turned to him. Only the God of Earthquakes could help them now.

Clandestine

Nervous and excited, they walked hand in hand around the garden, looking at the tulips bathed in the silvery light. They couldn’t believe they’d sneaked out of their rooms at this of the night. It felt so wonderfully rebellious. And they could use some adventure. An old age home could get very lonely you see. 

Monsoon

She looked beautiful, that damp hair forming a mass of dishevelled curls on her head, those full lips turned upwards in a rueful smile as she failed to stay dry, her white kurta getting steadily transparent…with a startle he woke up. It was still dark outside. He looked down. His first wet dream. How appropriate.