Shimmering Light

You could read part 1 of the story here: Foggy Night

I was inspired to write this story after I had received an encouraging comment by a blogger friend asking me to continue with “Foggy Night”.


The landscape was not like the one I was used to. There were no trees or houses but there were buildings — very tall, like trees. They looked kind of same only varying in dimensions.

It felt like I was walking, but I was wrong. It was my surrounding that was moving around me.

The green cloud bubbles that had been hovering over my head had now started bursting into shimmering lights. It looked like fire crackers but they didn’t melt in the green sky…they started falling down. I wanted to run, but could not. I had ducked myself down and my eyes were closed.

And suddenly I heard a voice, “Don’t be afraid.”

I opened my eyes — and all I saw was light. My body had disappeared, or if it existed at this point in time I could not see or feel it —  at all.


Ice to remember

I sat waiting and watching at the time. Ten minutes or so had passed…there he was.

I wondered what he was trying to do, kneeling down instead of taking a seat.

Everything afterwards seemed like a dream come true as the soft flaky snow touched my skin. My hand in his…for all I saw, was a warm smile and a piece of cut polished ice moving from his hand to mine.

“You do listen to my ramblings.”

“Yes, I know you love snow. I knew you would like it here…this ways.”

Outside Ski World the sun sizzled in Dubai but what did I care…I kept staring at the dazzling white rock that sat on my finger.

The old lady

Sitting in the veranda, was an old lady. Her glasses, perfectly balanced on her nose. She shook her head from right to left drawing imaginary lines on a newspaper placed on a table.

The sun warmly lit the November sky. Silence was disturbed, momentarily, by the chuckles of children playing on the street. The old lady enjoyed the to and fro movement of strangers and acquaintances. Strangers got a blank look; whereas, the acquaintances received greetings followed by a lengthy smile.

Her shawl was neatly folded and kept on a nearby bamboo chair. She loved talking as she turned the pages of the newspaper. Her friends – a cup and a saucer, a quite chair beside her and her humble shawl – listened to her peacefully.

This peaceful daily act was disturbed once in a week. She welcomed and longed for this disturbance. At a distance a bell would ring which was followed by a speeding bicycle that glided on the gravel path and stopped right in front of her house. Like some miracle she would raise her head… to catch the sight of a postman.

Today was the day; the postman had showed himself after nearly a week.

Greetings were exchanged with warm smiles. Time was automatically spared from the busy schedule of the postman for the old lady. He would sit on the chair in the veranda. First a glass of water was served and then a cup of tea. Their topic of discussion revolved around – health, medicine and their children. Like a ceremonious ritual the postman would first check his watch, then get up and hand over her letter. She would collect it with the same exuberance of a child collecting candies.


Bundles of letters were stacked in the cupboard. All were arranged according to the year.

Time had moved forward. The son had moved away for better prospects. He visited the old lady in the form of many letters and some photographs.

Satisfaction was found in a mother’s heart that her son was well settled and doing good for himself.

On one side hung photos, and on the other side, paint was peeling off from this colourless wall. Her son’s photos appeared in the order of his growth – infancy, childhood, adolescence – and then additional faces appeared – wife and a son.

After a while the photos had stopped appearing, but the letters had continued.


In a city apartment, was a sofa, a center table, a foldable bed and a kitchen stove. On a shelf, in the room, at a far corner was a trophy with initials at the bottom – Leo S. The surface of the trophy reflected a humanly face. This young face had an uncanny resemblance to Leo S. He had promised Leo S. something.

And today as he sat down to write…

Dear Ma,

…nothing came to him. He had been doing this for the last five years. Every time he wrote he remembered his promise – Please don’t stop writing letters or she’ll get worried.

Today, he struggled with words. His desire to continue a lie had pressed his soul hard and made his heart heavy. The old lady was ignorant of Leo’s death.


Leo was a guard at a bank. One day, when the robbers attacked the bank and the people, Leo’s bravery fetched him a trophy but it also drew a wound in his stomach. All he thought it to be a small wound, but it was not. It became the reason of his slow and untimely death along with his ignorant attitude towards medication.

In the room, where the trophy was still standing victoriously, a decision was being formed.

Bags were packed and young Leo was ready to go.


Years back, a traveler had come from a village. Today someone will be tracing back Leo’s steps to reach a someone dear in the village.

The Room

He looked at an empty frame. “Why was it empty? Who keeps an empty frame?” he muttered to himself.

There was something peculiar about the room. The room was filled with books and magazines but did not have any place to sit. It had a big clock that looked lost in time and too old to function properly.

“Only if I could see someone, I could ask for some tea or water or even a place to sit,” he thought.

The place was sealed with silence.

With steady steps, he approached to one of the stacks of books. He tried to pick it up to read.

“Ah! Marvelous,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s no book, they are chairs.” He inspected every stack. The ones to the east of the room were chairs and the ones to the west were all readable books.

“That’s something uh! The person wants you to sit and read by the daylight.”

He took one of the books and cautiously placed himself on the artistic book chair.

The room was now losing its glow and the clock started to tick faster. With his eyes set on the book, he hardly noticed this change. He was deeply immersed in the book.

As the night grew stronger, the clock ticked louder. In that dark room, the only thing that was clear – was the heart beat of the running clock.

The sun made an announcement of a new day as it gently knocked at the east window.

Everything was back to normal. The clock gave a tired look from the previous night’s run and the books and the chairs were camouflaged as one. The room – prim and proper – had everything in its place, except for the outsider.


World at a click

“A little right, boy.”

“Yes, mam.”

“Wow! look at these streets. Look at the stones. Now tell me if you don’t see some art here.”

“Hmmm!…Yes, mam.”

“Now take me a little left, boy.”

She marveled at the beauty laid in each brick…block by block. There was no further ahead. They hit the end of the path.

“That’s it Mrs. Rodriguez.”

The old lady got up from the chair as her entire weight made her wrinkled hands tremble a little. With the crutches clasped, she moved out of the room.

“Next time… a virtual tour, to…Eiffel tower.”

Sandra Crook

Rochelle Wisoff- Fields-Addicted to Purple is the place where every Friday a photo is shared with an aim to write a fiction around it in 100 words or less. Anyone who wants to participate can click at FRIDAY FICTIONEERS to know about the rules.

Today’s photo is a contribution from Sandra.

Thanks to Rochelle, a kind host, and Sandra for sharing the photo with us. I would also like to thank my readers for visiting, reading and sharing their views. I’m very happy with this one as I was able to write it in 99 words. Hope you enjoy it. 🙂

Track Trouvaille

If you love history and fantasy and love to make a cocktail of facts and myths then head our way to Track.

Our existence is only as old as the first rumors about witches, werewolves, vampires and UFOs spread like wild fire, terrorizing the mortals, all across the globe. We believe in serving the mortals wholeheartedly. We don’t discriminate between mortals and creatures of other dimensions.


Copyright – Kent Bonham

Our bumper sale will begin on Friday 13th November, 2015.

All our items are authenticated by “The Doctor”.

Last year the items that sold like hot coffee were – transparent pearls, jade money tree, rabbit’s foot and tiger’s tooth. They proved instant remedy for problems related to love, money, relationships and fear of aging.

We also arrange for a soul’s meet up with deceased (of any kind or loved ones).

Our existence is purposeful and we’d like to transform your life. So, don’t wait on the other side of the bathroom mirror. Gear up and shout a “YES” (but only after midnight as before that we are unavailable) and consider us with you. Our felt presence will always guide you from then.

I know this is way more than 100 words but I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you too enjoy reading it. A great thanks to both Rochelle and Kent for today’s Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to all my reader friends for their time and comments.

Rochelle Wisoff- Fields-Addicted to Purple is the place where every Friday a photo is shared with an aim to write a fiction around it in 100 words or less. Anyone who wants to participate can click at FRIDAY FICTIONEERS to know about the rules.

Today’s photo is a contribution from Kent Bonham.


Two Cranes for Eternity

We were sitting on a bench by the pond. There were water lilies – pink and white – that had lifted up from the water. The gentle breeze touched their soft petals and guided their sweet fragrance to us. There were some ducks by the pond. They were busy soaking themselves in water. Ripples were added to the water as they swam.

My hands fit perfectly in your hands. Its warmth gave life to my soul. My head found a nice resting place on your shoulder – strong, yet fragile. I wished for this day to continue forever like a circle…never ending and always going.

From somewhere two cranes flew and landed by the pond. They were lost or so it seemed. But they didn’t care as they were lost…lost in each other. And all they cared for – were each other.

The sun, glowed a mild orange glow and the birds were flying back home. We got up and just like the birds started walking towards our home…our hands still tied together.

Nothing could separate us; nothing would separate us. We were at the final steps of our lives. We had seen it all and there was nothing we feared…except, for the fear of losing our souls.

Walking, we were, when all of sudden a lamppost stood in front of us trying to block our paths…trying to separate us into two. I didn’t lose your gentle grasp. Walking past the lamppost, with a soft smile on my face I said, “I will never leave you.” “I know,” he said. I could see my smile reflecting in his eyes as they twinkled with love for me. Now we were lost like the two cranes for eternity. We were lost in each other’s eyes and just like the cranes… we had no concern for our surroundings. We were locked in time and space in each other’s eyes.

MJ and a Life Chapter

MJ is my next door neighbor and he often storms into my house, unannounced.He is a great storyteller and is really good at it. I enjoy his ramblings. Plus he is an adorable six year old kid.

This time his story – spending time with his father on a Saturday, fishing by the river. He said, “Just me and dad, went fishing.”

“So how many fish did you catch?” I asked him.

“No! I didn’t catch fish. I got stones from there. Dad said that water is dangerous and cold and I should be sitting on the stool. I got bored and started collecting the stones.”

“So, Jake how many stones did you get?” I asked.

“I got a whole box. Come with me I’ll show them to you.”

On his request I went with him to his house.

There they are and he pointed towards his garden. He had painted the stones and placed them in the garden. Colourful stones – small, big, red, yellow, green, dotted, lines all placed in the garden. I was impressed with MJ’s talent and told him that one day he will be a great landscape artist. He gave me a big smile.

A few days after MJ came to my house again. I knew he had something to tell me. I asked him, “What’s the matter MJ? Where had you been?”

“Nowhere, I was busy shopping with mom and aunt. They took me to buy veggies and fruits.”

“What all did you buy?” I asked knowing that he would share it anyways.

“Do you know Mr.D this time I got to pick some tomatoes from there. Mom gets very angry when I touch things in the shop but Aunt Liz showed me how to pick them up. She got a basket and we filled it. She said that I picked some real good tomatoes and gave me some to eat as a reward for my work.” MJ was very happy with his experience and after some time went back home.

That day MJ taught me something. In life, when you get tomatoes eat them. And when you get stones paint them and use them rather than sulk in them. At any cost Jake just enjoyed and displayed his talent.

Gibber-Jabber of a Story

She was holding a red watering can. The water from the can fell on the green leaves like tiny colourless bullets.

“Momme,” said a sweet voice and she turned to look at her little girl. “Yes, sugar,” said the mom.

“Flas, no flas… why no flas?” asked the five year old. The sentence – a broken speech – still, made sense to the mom. The small little fingers were now pointing towards a marigold plant.

“Sugar, momme needs to water them and take care of them.”

“Likes flas…want flas,” the little girl’s voice said with a little bit of sadness.

“Oh! My baby, come here,” said the mother and took her in her arms. “Now look, momme loves sugar and so….momme kisses her, reads stories for her, plays with her and then gives cookies to her. Yes.”

“Yes!” shouted her darling daughter.

“So, if you want flowers you’ll need to help momme.”

“How,” said the curious one.

“You’ll have to water the plant…” “…like momme,” interrupted the sweet voice.“Yes, but that’s momme’s job you are a big girl and you get a bigger job. Do you want to help momme?”

“Yes,” said the little girl.

“Then…first give momme a big kiss and then give a flying kiss to the plant.” The little girl obediently kissed her mom and then gave a flying kiss to the plant. The little girl now on her feet, started wandering in the garden. Her mom took the watering can and continued with her work.

The next day she could hear the sweet voice coming from the garden. She was a bit concerned as to whom her daughter was talking to. She ran in the direction of the voice. She was satisfied to see that her daughter was alone and not with any stranger.

“Sugar, what are you doing here? Mom was worried,” she said in a concerned voice. On approaching near she saw what her little girl was doing. Her daughter was holding a story book. It seemed, she was reading a story to the plant.

The mom leaned to kiss the daughter’s soft silky hair. She sat by the steps and watched her little girl read the story to the plant in her own gibber jabber language.

A Flower Pot

One week has passed by and I have not seen him. We met last Thursday at Café Coffee Day, one of my favourite joints. I like their coffee. The aroma of fresh coffee which is rarely absent from the very moment you enter the cafe, stays till the time you are there.

I was waiting as he came. I could feel his presence even before he appeared in front of me. I suspect that not because of some deep love but because of his strong cologne. I had started loving it as much as I loved him. He smiled at me and sat in front of me. I tell you, his smile and only his smile has the power to brighten any of my dull days. We ordered two coffees and a banana cake.

“You said it is important. What is it?”

“Well I’m going to my hometown. I’ll be back in a week’s time.”

“But why are you leaving in the middle of the semester?”

“It’s my mom, she is not well.”


Silence – the uninvited guest- had made its entry and was going to stay for a while with us.

Although, I was sipping the coffee I’m sure internally I was sobbing. Each sip that I took seemed bitter in taste. Strange I had always loved coffee and its taste. It was for the first time, today, that I could actually taste its bitterness which I didn’t like much.

We paid. We moved and started walking.

Our paths were the same and steps matched each pace. Hand in hand we were walking but there still was silence.

We went to Lisa’s Flower Shop. It was our ritual before parting away he would give me a flower of my choice.

“So, you’ll be gone for a week,” I asked gloomily.


“Then why give one flower, I think you should give me seven- one for each day- to remember you.”

“That only seems fair,” he added with a smile which for the first time had an element of sadness in it. He picked up a purple orchid, one of his favourites. Then he gestured at the lady. All I could see was that they were talking while I was looking at the white daisies.

He was carrying a flower pot which had a beautiful purple orchid in it. Some were yet to bloom and would be due to blossom in a day or so.

“Here, take this. You could have this to remember me.”

I was so happy but my emotions of sadness were still covering me up. Although, I remember to have worn a faint smile which could be overpowered by tears that could stream any moment due to the smile or sadness which was too difficult to guess.

Today, is day five and I already miss him so much. The buds that were due have finally bloomed. Its petal; so soft like a baby’s blanket. I water it. I talk to it and have made friends with it.

I take my camera and click its snap. Upload it on FB and tag, “Thank you.”