Write Over the Weekend theme for this week:
This time we’re having at a mother’s day special! Your post must contain the word ‘MOM’ and you have just 5 sentences to complete your story.
‘Happy Birthday, Mom,’ Shruti had a glimmer of smile light up her face as Aanya was approaching her.
Her smile faded into oblivion as Aanya walked past her towards her mother’s portrait, like she usually did each year.
Shruti has been yearning to be addressed as ‘Mom’ while raising her dead twin Smriti’s daughter Aanya for the past ten years.
While Aanya’s father has moved on from his dead wife to her attractive twin sister, Aanya could not accept Shruti who looked like her mom but didn’t smell equally divine.
Shruti decided to wait for Aanya, ageing with her dead sister on the wall.
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. We give out creative writing topics each weekend for Indian bloggers.
Sheer looked around lazily through the glass and sat down, visibly bored. He had always loved this capsule elevator with a seat for the elderly.
He peeked onto the airport lawn outside, the palm trees were swaying their heads in the soothing dawn breeze. It was going to be a glorious sunny morning. Yet, he had work.
He dressed as a waiter and knocked the door of a plush suite.
‘Sir, your breakfast.’
The victim opened the door after a minute. Sheer made tea for him. Then he unlocked the ice box, took out his precious weapon and stabbed the man.
One thing he didn’t know that they were being watched.
A lady escort came out horrified of the walk-in closet after he left.
Sheer went to the changing room, dressed as himself and disposed the silicon mask he was wearing.
On his way down, the morning seemed to be even more glorious from the capsule.
Image Courtesy: Google
I met her for the first time fifteen years ago. Both of us had travelled from our respective suburbs to the huge city of Calcutta to appear for admission tests and interviews after our secondary board exams. We faced each other for the first time during one of such admission tests. Our parents were waiting outside as we were writing our tests in a classroom. I still remember the room, though later we couldn’t locate it anymore. We didn’t pay attention to each other, neither to the other girls. Yes, it was a girls’ school. Some of them knew each other and chatted gleefully. I knew none, and was silent as a wall, the way I was back then. The first time I actually noticed her was on the day of the interview. A tiny, thin girl with curly cropped hair like a halo around her head. Her parents were probably a little tensed about the interview, and kept talking to my parents but she was cool and chirping her way with all her certificates, academic and extra-curricular – drama, elocution. I was quite nervous, with exclusively academic credentials and being already rejected from another school for not being a Calcatian, or Calcuttan, whatever they meant. My parents were trying to boost my confidence and she was calming down her parents with confidence. I guess neither of us paid attention to each other, we were busy with our own chores and let the parents chat their way.
The third time I saw her was our first day in the new school. Both of us had been admitted there and were about to enter the school gate at the same time. My father came with me as I knew nothing of that part of the city. He was immensely relieved to see the ‘acquainted’ girl and felt that I would be comfortable with her. I was apprehensive though, not very much encouraging the idea since I had been a loner and never really tried to befriend somebody on my own. Our fathers introduced us to each other and went back. We were introduced formally and walked through the entrance of the school towards the classroom.
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