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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2021
Submitted to Contest #97
What would you do if you were left alone at 21?And burdened with an enterprise you have no passion for?If you were normal, you would run away or at least wish you could.But I, Sharanya Murugan, the sole owner of ‘Murugan Textile Mills Limited’ am making rounds of the factory with my floor manager.My father disappeared when I was 10 years old. I was heartbroken.My mother was not very saddened by it. I didn’t think much of it then, but now it feels strange. She continued to manage the factory with aunt Gayatri, till she too disappeared 5 years...
Submitted to Contest #96
This is a perfect setting, an empty guestroom. As if the emptiness in our hearts is not good enough! The last rays of the sun have already been devoured by the greedy deodar trees. Now I feel their icy fingers poking my shoulder. ‘Dalhousie Delight’ says the rusty signboard in front of the old building in need of repair. Once again, I stare at the google map and shake my head in disbelief. We have arrived. ‘Nestled deep in the Himalayan forests, an authentic place to experience the rustic charm and the hospitality of the hill people’ said th...
Submitted to Contest #90
My beginnings were humble, a bit shameful and wile. A bird dropped me on a stump. I sprouted from the unsuspecting stump and soon strangled it to rise my head. Today, I am referred to as the Great One. After all, I belong to a tribe under which people have attained enlightenment. My location is such, it’s both a curse and a boon. It is at a doorway, both to hell and heaven. At times I feel I have seen everything there is to see. 250 years is a long time. In my younger days, I was taken good care of. The area around me was filled with green...
Submitted to Contest #89
2024 AD. The van that had picked us up from the rehabilitation centre stops at a ridge. Dense, dark greenery fills our vision. We are home! finally. To be honest, I never knew much about my ancestral home. In fact, even my mother or father did not grow up here. They too grew up in their adopted country, mingling with others who had arrived from similar backgrounds. They had limited access to the woods, just so that they could retain their instincts. Or so I imagined. I never had a chance to know them well enough. By the time I was weaned awa...
Submitted to Contest #88
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Kalyani who was not so little, she was thirteen. She moved with her parents from one place to another every 3 years. She had loved this routine when she was little, now she hated it. Anyway, Idlapur was where she was going to spend her next three years.Idlapur was a small town. Like any other respectable small town, it had a town square. The square had a clock tower. The hands of the clock were still at 11:00 hours for a few months now.The square was at the centre of not four but six streets. To the t...
Submitted to Contest #87
The Yamuna gurgled under the moon. Crickets chirped in a rhythm. The dark leaves of the tree didn’t dare to breathe. The young maiden who was sitting under it had just then fallen asleep. She had been spending most of her time under it for the past few days. She looked forlorn. She talked to herself at times, cried and smiled in a way the heartbroken do. Other girls, her friends came to her many times and tried to console her, make her eat something and persuade her to come with them but failed. The maiden was neither fragile nor a conventio...
Submitted to Contest #86
“Daddy look! the sleeping man… his ears are out now!” little Bobby pointed to the maroon-coloured new leaves that had barely made their appearance from the skeletal bush of Crepe-Myrtle. Chris moved closer and smiled. “Yup, we will see the pink flowers blooming soon enough,” he said trying to match the excitement of his 6-year-old son. It was a bright Sunday morning and both of them were in their house garden. After the bitter winter cold, late March had brought in perfect mornings though the nights were still chilly. Sarah had gon...
Submitted to Contest #85
That’s the thing about this city… It can change itself into different worlds for different people. It can line up pull carts with all kinds of greens, purples, oranges, reds, whites and the colours in between for the buzzing evening crowds dragging their feet after the day’s work. It can offer them the pleasure of pinching, squeezing, smelling and haggling before they carry some greens or reds and ask their wives to cook dinner. It can also line up dimly lit restaurants, brightly lit cafes, bustling bistros and neon-lit nightclubs into which...
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