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Weekly Contest #326
The Twisted Child He was walking so quickly, I had to struggle to keep pace with him. Prashant Gupta, was a tall, heavily built, fleshy-faced gentleman with cruel eyes. At least, they seemed that way to me. As a fourteen years old I tend to see things in black and white, not shades of grey. And Mr Gupta I didn’t like, not one bit. First of all, he always spoke to me in Hindi, not my strong suit. Secondly, he never called me by my name, it was always either ‘tu’ or ‘Ei bachche’, both of which I hate. I have a perfectly good name: Anand, what...
Weekly Contest #325
ALMOST MURDER He had almost done it. He had come this close, the distance between forefinger and thumb. The resentment had built up over the years, reaching a point where he couldn’t take any more. Resentment and jealousy. The green-eyed monster, peeping constantly over his shoulder. It wasn’t his fault, really; more his parents’ doing. It was they who had fawned and fussed over Nandini, ever since she’d been born five years before. A whiny, sniveling baby, come to disrupt the peace and blissfulness of his life that cold, wet August morning...
Weekly Contest #324
Wolf At The Door Look at the moon, tell me what do you see? A tasty ball of yellow cheese? Look at it hard, through the limbs of a tree, As the branches sway in the breeze. Meenaxi turned and looked at Yellappa, as he huddled beside the door of her house. He was ‘smiling’ at her, that quirky grimace that revealed a row of chipped and broken teeth. He never really smiled. It was always that grimace which was both quizzical and oddly friendly, and completely his own. He had sung that little ditty in a surprisingly melodious voice. His comma...
Weekly Contest #323
The Coconut Plucker ‘Bab, yenh sarkhem korpa noko!’ (‘Sir, I don’t know how to fix this!’) said Kishore, with an air of exasperation and finality, standing up and wiping his grease-stained hands on a large white kerchief, ‘It won’t start, Bab. I’ve done all I can. No use. We need a mechanic. When was the last time you took this car for servicing?’Neville Sequeira scratched his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he replied, also in Konkani, ‘I wasn’t here, remember? I returned from the UK only a fortnight ago. My brother has been staying in our ancestral ...
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