Dasvidaniya

Arriverderci

“I have something to tell you.”

Tony muttered as Marc bent to pick an Edelweiss for him.

His words lingered in the thin air of Swiss Alps.

It was fourth day of the trek and they had climbed high.

The tone of his lover surprised Marc as he felt the downhill thrust.

“Arriverderci.”

Auf Wiedersehen

“I have something to tell you.”

Mark didn’t look at her. His eyes were still shut softly.

Toni repeated the words to her twin brother.

Mark still lay lifeless. He is in coma for the past ten years.

Toni severed all medical ties that kept him alive.

Now she could finally bid him , “Auf Wiedersehen.”

Sayonara

“I have something to tell you.”

He said apologetically before she could undress him.

Nahoko couldn’t wait any longer. He was a rare Italian gigolo in Tokyo.

As she opened his shirt, she was shocked by the full-body tattoos.

“Sayonara,” he whispered while slashing her throat.

She was the wife of a Triad lord.

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This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda – See more at: http://blog.blogadda.com/2013/06/21/weekend-creative-writing-india-bloggers#comments

Braided In Time : 55-Fiction

Image Courtesy: Google

This post is an entry for the ‘Beautiful Ends To Your Beautiful Braids‘ contest, powered by Indiblogger, in collaboration with Dove Split Ends Rescue System.

Vote for my post here.

The Husband

“You are looking beautiful in this saree, wifey.”

“What is my gift this anniversary?”

Light turned off the man’s face.

He came up silently behind his wife, standing in front of a makeshift mirror.

In the shimmering silver of a full moon through their cracked ceiling, he pinned a gajra carefully on her lengthy braid.

The Father

“Dad, how do I look in these braids?”

“Where did you..How on earth did you get hold of..?”

“It’s mom’s.”

“But..she’s gone for years.”

“She left this as a parting gift because I loved it.”

“You look exactly like her when she was sixteen.”

Mom looked at them smiling from a framed photograph.

The Grandfather

“Bye, Grandpa. I’m getting late for college.”

“Why are you in such fancy dress today?”

“Today is our ethnic day. Not only that, its a pre-independence theme.”

Now grandpa takes a closer look and is mesmerized.

“I see you have braided your beautiful hair, for a change!”

“And I’m also wearing grandma’s silk.”

Smile. Bliss.

Corporate Cues : 55-Fiction

This post has been chosen as a BlogAdda WOW post.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. The theme for this weekend is – Start your post with ‘A young executive was nervously biting her nails.’

Induction

A young executive was nervously biting her nails.

“Girls here have to follow our guidelines. We are an American company, not an Indian one.”

“You will not wear skirts in our premises.”

What! American?

“Not even formal ones, sir?”

“It is unacceptable in our culture.”

‘Our’! American?

“The company is American, but we’re proud Indians.”

Client Interview

A young executive was nervously biting her nails.

“Ye understand aar requirements, nigh?”

The phone was on speaker. She was still biting her nails.

The Irish client was growing impatient. She mumbled something.

‘You understand our requirements, or no?’ Her boss roughly translated and passed on.

The interview went for another hour. She went through.

Onsite

A young executive was nervously biting her nails.

It was her third lunch on foreign soil.

She was lost and lonely in the huge cafeteria with innumerable food options.

Somebody came and joined her table. Then came another.

And another.

Someone said, “Hey, we’re a team.” Others echoed.

She looked at them with bleary eyes.

Resignation

A young executive was nervously biting her nails.

It was the first time she was composing a resignation.

She wondered whether to be polite or blunt with her words.

Bing. Bing.

Her incoming mail read, ‘Your services are no longer required with us.’

She sighed in relief.

So they already knew why she were leaving.

* This is my first attempt at 55-fiction and first entry for any blogging contest. Readers, please let me know its follies and laurels. If you like the post, please vote for me here *