Varadharajan Ramesh's Blog, page 5

Desperate for a Friend

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It was a cool Sunday afternoon in Vanarapuri. Suri woke up after his siesta and sniffed the pleasant smells that came wafting in. Eyes twinkling, he jumped from his bed and gambolled into the kitchen where his mother was busy.

‘Mumma! What are you making? It smells delicious.’

Tara turned to look at her son, ‘Why? Is my little monkey hungry already? Didn’t you polish off a juicy mango after your lunch?’

Suri grinned and said, ‘Yes, Mumma! But whatever you are making makes my stomach rumble again.’

‘Well, I’m making a banana-walnut cake but I’m afraid it won’t be ready for an hour or so. Why don’t you go play outside and work out a bigger appetite?’

Suri scrunched his nose and sniffed again, ‘Mumma, this pleasant smell I’m sniffing is not that of the banana-walnut cake but something else entirely.’

‘What do you smell, Suri?’

‘Something like mud. I don’t know exactly!’

Tara smiled at her son, ‘What you are smelling now is called Petrichor. It is the pleasant smell that arises when the rain falls on dry soil and yes, it is very pleasant.’

‘Did it rain?’

‘Yes, my little monkey. It rained baboons and capuchins while you were snoring away. You missed the first rains of the season and that’s why there’s this strong petrichor in the air.’

‘Oooh! Pertikor…’

‘Petri-chor, Suri. Petri means stone. Something to remember.’

Suri bobbed his head, ‘Yes, and something to flaunt to my friends as well. Mumma, you said I can go out and play. Can I go now?’

‘Sure, just make sure you don’t wander off for a long time.’

Suri nodded and jumped off the kitchen top, ‘Sure, Mumma! I’m going to meet Tommy, Eki, and Unni. We have quite the adventure planned today.’

Tara finished preparing the cake mix and placed the dish inside the oven. She washed her hands and turned around to face Suri, ‘Should I be worried?’

‘No, Mumma! We are planning to go to the ruins to collect mushrooms for our class project given by Milli Ma’am. We’ll be back very soon.’

Tara smiled at her son and said, ‘Alright, Suri. But be very careful at all times. The ruins can be very slippery after rains and don’t stay there for a long time. There might be some bad monkeys dawdling there and about. Understood?’

‘Ok, Mumma! We’ll be careful.’

‘Don’t venture too deep into the ruins. It is not safe enough for you kids. Should I ask your Puppa to send someone from the City Security Station?’

‘No, Mumma! We’ll be fine. As you said, we’ll stick to the boundaries. We should get enough mushrooms there.’

Tara waved him away with a kiss on his cheek, ‘Off you go then! Be careful, stay close to your friends, and come back early for your cake.’

‘Yum! I’ll be back before you pull the cake from the oven. Bye, Mumma!’

Suri skipped his way out of their little tree-house. As he was about to swing away towards the ruins, Nila, his sister popped hear head out of the window and called out to him.

‘Suri, if you are going to the ruins, go through the Capuchin Circle. Avoid Titi Street at all costs, ok?’

‘But, why?’

Nila shrugged, ‘It’s for your own good. Listen when your elders say something, ok?’

‘But the distance is much shorter if I swing by Titi Street…’

‘Shhh!’ Nila cut her brother off and said in a hushed voice, ‘Titi Street is not safe. It’s where all those miscreants and poor live. All those Titis and Macaques loitering about makes me uneasy. Those Macaques are born thieves, you know? Promise me you will avoid that route.’

Suri nodded solemnly, ‘But my friends are Tommy Titi and Eki Macaque. They are nice to everyone, especially me.’

Nila just shrugged and said, ‘I’ve done my duty, little brother. It’s up to you to be sensible or senseless. And start hanging out more with Sammy instead of those little mischief-makers, Tommy and Eki.’

‘Sammy is not nice. He keeps making fun of Tommy and Eki. Sometimes, he makes fun of me as well.’

‘He is a nice little monkey, Suri. Silky was feeling bad because Sammy doesn’t have any friends.’

Suri lifted his bag to his shoulders, ‘He doesn’t have friends because of his own behaviour, Nila. Also, I don’t want to be friends with someone just because you want to be friends with their sister.’

‘Why don’t you give him a chance? I’ll ask Silky to tell him to be nice to you. Please include him, will you? As a favour to me?’

Suri nodded, ‘Maybe. But I will not accept him making fun of any of my friends. They are good monkeys, ok? Bye for now, we have to collect mushrooms. Sammy is welcome to join us.’ He turned and grasped a vine, ‘Friendship doesn’t come on demand, you know?’

Suri swung away towards Titi street with sweet petrichor in his nostrils. Nila frowned for a second before running to call Silky. From the kitchen, Tara looked at her daughter with a worried look etched on her face.

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Cool Down, Cool Girl!

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‘Nila, what is that you are wearing?’ A curious expression hovered on her mother Tara’s face. They were having lunch together in Tara’s staff room in the Vanarapuri School.

‘Oh, it’s nothing Mumma.’

‘Here, let me take a look.’

Nila pulled her right hand behind her back in a swift motion. ‘Mumma, I said it was nothing. Will you just leave me be?’

‘I just wanted to see what you are wearing, dear. If you don’t want Mumma to see, that’s alright.’

‘It’s just a ‘Punk Monkeys’ bracelet, Mumma. They are the in-thing now.’

The Punk Monkeys were an underground punk band slowly getting mainstream exposure in Vanarapuri. Their edgy lyrics and edgier fashion made the kids of the city want to emulate them and their way of life.

‘But, you don’t even like Punk Monkeys or punk music for that matter.’

‘Well, tastes evolve Mumma. Our gang is so into Punk Monkeys these days.’

‘Alright, sweetheart. But you should know that such fashion accessories are not allowed in school. So I’m going to have to ask you to take it off.’

‘Mumma, please don’t be a bore. This bracelet looks so cool. Don’t you want your daughter to be one of the cool kids in school?’

‘Nila, we want good students at the school. I would be happy if the cool kids were good students first. Now, you either take the bracelet off, or I will have to confiscate it from you and your posse.’

‘You are very unfair, Mumma. My friends are going to think I’m such a bore. Already they make fun of me for eating lunch with you like a little baby.’

Nila stopped eating and, with tears streaking down her cheeks, she ran out of the room.

Tara sighed. Her daughter was growing up fast.

A few days later, Tara was working on her lessons for the next day. Nila approached her with a lot of hesitation in her steps.

‘Mumma, I need some money.’

‘May I ask what the money is for?’

‘The Punk Monkeys concert is happening this weekend Mumma, and I want to go. They’ve added a new single called ‘Apes ain’t no monkeys,’ and they are going to play it live for the first time. It’s gonna be so epic.’

‘Wow! This band sure sounds amazing.’ Tara didn’t hide the sarcasm in her voice.

‘The tickets are selling fast, Mumma. Please give me some money.’

‘Nila, please sit. I’d like to talk for a few minutes with you.’

Her daughter complied, albeit very reluctantly.

‘What is it Mumma?’

‘Sweetie, tell me this. From when are you into the Punk Monkeys?’

‘About three weeks.’

‘And you do like their songs, right?’

‘Yes. Their music is great.’

‘What about their lyrics?’

‘Lyrics?’

‘Apes ain’t no monkeys? Really?’

‘Yes, Mumma. Apes are not monkeys. They are tailless primates.’

‘What is this, Nila? We are all monkeys and we belong to one giant family. Now, tell me, are you comfortable listening to music that promotes differentiation and hate?’

‘No, Mumma. But Punk Monkeys are so cool.’

‘Who introduced you to this band?’

‘My friends – Riki and Vana. They told me that Silky Sifaka and Mini Mangabey are totally into the Punk Monkeys as well.’

Tara shook her head at her daughter. She knew that young kids were very impressionable and she had to handle this delicate situation very carefully.

‘What does Silky and Mini have to do with all this?’

Nila let out a sigh. Her mother was being very dense, ‘Mumma, Silky and Mini are THE coolest monkeys in Vanarapuri. Silky’s mother knows Kiri Kipunji, the lead singer of Punk Monkeys. Riki and Vana said that if we could become friends with Silky and the other cool girls, then they might take us to visit the band after the concert.’

‘What else have they introduced to you?’

‘Mumma, I don’t like the tone of your questions…’

Tara raised a hand to interrupt her daughter, ‘Nila, let me ask my few questions. You don’t even have to answer me. Answer the questions within yourself. Shall we try it?’

‘Sure, whatever.’

‘Did you ever feel for one second that you like this band and wear their merchandise around just because your friends wear them too?’

‘Not really. I like to wear them because I look so cool.’

‘Do you have the urge to do things your friends do, even if something that you are not comfortable with, to be accepted as one of the so-called cool girls?’

Nila did not answer.

Tara fixed her daughter with a pointed stare and asked, ‘Have you done anything recently that goes against your belief system just because your friends did so or said so?’

The little monkey sadly shook her head in the affirmative.

‘Did that involve calling someone un-cool?’

‘Did that little Tamarin come squealing to you, Mumma?’

‘Nila, did you hear what just came out of your mouth? Are you implying that calling someone ‘un-cool’ is alright, but them complaining about it is not?’

‘No, Mumma. I’m sorry.’

‘Listen, my child. At your age, there will be a lot of peer pressure on you. It’s perfectly normal. Peer pressure can be both good and bad. Wanting to be cool is fine. But trying to do that at any cost is not. Wear a fashion accessory, but not at the cost of bending the rules. There is a lot of good happening around you, try to want to be a part of it. You are free to listen to any type of music but do so if it appeals to you. Also, music is the language of the soul. Don’t demean your soul by listening to filth just because it’s cool.’

‘I understand, Mumma. But what if my friends make fun of me? What if they don’t want to be friends with me anymore?’

‘My dear, Friendship and love are the only things in this world that is unconditional. If your friends do not wish to be with the real you, then they don’t deserve your friendship. Sometimes, it’s better to say NO.’

‘Thanks, Mumma.’

Tara smiled at her daughter. She knew that there will be few more of such talks with her daughter and hoped that Nila would be amenable to reason then.

‘Nila, I will allow you to attend the concert. But listen to what the band is singing with an open mind. If you are offended by one line in their songs, you should walk away whether your friends like it or not.’

Nila beamed at her mother, ‘Thank you, Mumma! I promise!’

Tara hugged her daughter, ‘Thank you for having an open mind, Nila. I’m proud of you.’

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Bets and Buts

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It was a warm and sunny day in Vanarapuri. Suri was gamboling on the branches outside. His mistimed leap during his birthday tree race had made him determined to improve his skill level. Suri’s friends Eki and Unni were swinging along with him, making quite a racket as only little monkeys could.

Eki, a macaque, was considerably larger than Suri and Unni who were tiny breeds of monkeys – a marmoset and uakari respectively. Eki used his size advantage to make several long leaps between the branches and generally made his friends gape in awe.

‘Not fair, Eki!’ Unni the uakari droned after Eki performed a particularly tricky leap across the breadth of Marmoset street and landed with grace on the branch of a banyan tree.

Eki grinned from across the street and did a little victory dance, ‘Baldy!’ He called out to the uakari who had hairy bodies and bald heads. ‘Your turn now. C’mon, you can do it.’

Unni shook his head, ‘No, I’m quite comfortable here. Thank you very much.’ He was a very polite monkey and never spoke a word in anger.

Suri bobbed his head, ‘Unni, let’s try. There’s no harm in trying.’

‘Suri, that’s a leap of nearly twelve feet. I don’t think we can ever do it. We are too tiny.’

Eki swung from the branches and used his tail to maneuver another big leap back towards his friends.

He clapped Unni on his back and said, ‘C’mon, Unni! Suri is right. There’s absolutely no harm in trying. Try once. Suri will jump as well. Don’t be a goobaloo!’

Suri jumped up and down with barely contained enthusiasm, ‘Yes, Unni! Don’t be a goobaloo. I will jump. In fact, I will jump farther than Eki.’

‘Haha! Is that so, tiny?’ Eki usually referred his close friends using nicknames. He was a funny and friendly little monkey.

‘Yes! I bet that I can jump farther than you. In fact, Unni can beat your leap as well.’

‘Oooh! A bet?’ The three monkeys turned around to see who the newcomer was. It was Eki’s older brother Tongu. Unni made a face, he didn’t like Tongu much. While Eki was funny, Tongu was mischievous and ill-tempered and often picked on younger monkeys.

Eki was not pleased with Tongu’s appearance was well. But he loved and respected his elder brother. ‘What are you doing here, Tongu?’

‘I was waiting for this bald midget’s brother near the bakery on Howler street.’ He put a had around Unni’s neck and dragged him closer to himself, ‘Surprise, surprise! The lazy fellow didn’t turn up. I was swinging back home when I saw you with these scaredymonkeys who are not ready to jump between trees.’

‘Hey!’ Suri piped up, ‘I’m ready to jump.’

Tongu let out a laugh that was loaded with derision, ‘Look at the tiny monkey daring to jump. Careful, marmoset! You miss your landing and you’ll become marmalade on top of the road.’

Unni was still struggling in Tonggu’s grip, ‘Could you please let me go?’

Tongu shooed Unni away and made a swooshing action with his right hand falling rapidly towards his left, ending in a loud clap, ‘Splat! That’s what will happen if you miss the jump.’

Suri was needled, ‘I will prove that I can not only jump farther than Eki, I can jump farther than you as well.’

Tongu clapped his hands with glee, ‘Good, good! I like a challenge, especially one from tiny monkeys who can’t jump. Now, what about a tiny little bet?’

Eki was getting troubled by the developments, ‘Tongu, why don’t you go home or anywhere else? We are going to Suri’s house to do homework now.’

He hoped his brother would leave but Suri piped up at that exact moment, ‘What bet?’

‘Hmm! Let’s see. When I win, I shall have your complete collection of Action Monkeys comics. Is that ok, or are you afraid of the bet?’

Suri nodded, ‘Alright! And if I win?’

‘You will leave these kids alone,’ It was Uly, Unni’s brother who spoke the words as he swung into view. ‘Tongu, don’t you think that the bet is not fair at all?’

Tongu sneered at his friend, ‘No one asked the tiny marmalade to accept. Now, fair’s fair. Let’s get on with the jump, shall we?’

Uly shook his head in the negative, ‘Not quite yet, ok? Let me talk to these young ones first.’

Tongu shrugged and said, ‘Talk all you want. I’m going ahead and making my jump. Uly, know this! If you manage to persuade these runts from jumping then it automatically means that they forfeit and I get my prize.’

He didn’t wait for an answer and instead ran across the length of the branch he was standing and made a phenomenal leap and landed on a branch way beyond the one Eki had landed before. For the first time since Tongu had arrived, Suri looked troubled. The thought of losing the bet and his beloved comic collection started to play on his mind and he shifted uncomfortably.

Uly grasped Suri’s shoulders gently and said, ‘Suri, was it absolutely necessary to accept such a risky bet?’ Not only does Tongu belong to a larger species of monkey, but he is older than you as well. Did you for one second think before making such a silly wager?’

‘No, Uly bubba!’ Bubba was the monkey language word for big brother. ‘Tongu annoyed me so much with his insults…’

‘So, you accept a completely unfair bet? Suri, whenever you are presented with a tricky situation and if your little brain desperately tells you to do something, pause for a second and ask the question ‘but’’

‘But?’

‘Yes, but! For example, let’s take today’s little conundrum. Before agreeing to the bet with Tongu, you should have asked the following questions to yourself. But, is this a fair wager? But, can I make the jump? But, if I lose the bet, would I be happy giving away my comic book collection? But, if I give away my comics, will my parents be happy? If the answer was ‘No’ to even one of the questions, you shouldn’t have accepted to the bet.’

‘Yes, but…’

‘Isn’t it a little bit too late for ‘buts’ now, Suri?’

A shout reached them from distance, ‘Oi! Are you going to jump or do you forfeit?’

It was Tongu. Uly nodded at his brother and his little friends, ‘Let’s go! Time to turn the tables on Tongu.’

‘How?’

‘Come on!’

Uly led them towards Tongu through a completely different route through the trees, pausing here and swinging there. The little ones followed him, they could hear Tongu’s rants and shrieks through the calm locale, but they didn’t respond. They knew that Uly was upto something. Few minutes later, the quartet led by Uly reached the tree on top of which Tongu was perched.

‘Yes, latecomers and scaredymonkeys! Ready to leap or ready to weep?’

Uly beckoned Tongu close by, ‘Tongu, you need to think this through. I think you’ve agreed to the bet a bit rashly.’

Tongu sneered, ‘Me? Ha! You must be joking, Uly. You did witness my jump, right? How can tiny Uakaris and Marmosets even come anywhere near my feats?’

Uly chuckled and said, ‘Tongu! Tongu! You should have paid attention in class. Do you remember what is the maximum leap distance of Macaques?’

‘Er, no! But it should be nearly fifteen feet, right? I think I have reached fifteen at least once.’

‘Right you are! Now, do you know how far us Uakaris can leap?’

‘Nope! Five feet, maybe?’

Uly hooted with laughter, ‘Were you sleeping when the teacher taught this subject? Uakaris can easily jump up to eighteen feet.’

Tongu looked stunned, ‘Really?’

‘Yup!’ Uly pressed on, ‘Now for the real kicker. Were you even aware that Marmosets can leap up to nearly twenty-five feet in a single jump?’

Tongu was flabbergasted, ‘What?’

‘Yup! Do you remember who holds the Vanarapuri record for the longest leap?’

Tongu scratched his head for a while and suddenly he remembered, ‘Oh no!’

‘Indeed, Tongu! Now, don’t you think that you’ve made a very rash bet?’

‘I guess! But tiny marmalade here doesn’t even know to swing properly. Few days ago, he lost a tree race held on his very own birthday. How can he beat my leap?’

Suri piped up, ‘Hey! Don’t say that…’

Uly immediately raised a finger to his lips and said, ‘But! Remember the question.’

Suri kept quiet after that. Uly considered Tongu for a while and said, ‘Fine, Tongu! Let’s declare you the winner, ok? Suri is too young to compete with a nearly full-grown macaque. But I hope you do realize that Suri can defeat you quite easily.’

‘Then let him prove it.’

Uly clicked his tongue in disappointment, ‘Tongu! You never seem to learn. How many times have I asked you to ask yourselves the question ‘but’ before jumping to your hotheaded decisions? Now, think! Ask yourselves if you can face the embarrassment of losing to little Suri here?’

Tongu looked perplexed. His ego was fighting a losing battle against his common sense. Luckily, for him and Suri, his common-sense prevailed.

‘Alright! I’ll let this one slide. Little runts, one day we will have to find out who is the best, ok?’

He swung away into the canopy of the trees. Uly shook his head and said, ‘Did you learn something?’

Suri, Eki, and Unni chorused, ‘Yes, Uly Bubba! We will always pause to question ourselves before taking any rash decisions.’

‘Not before taking rash decisions!’ Uly smiled, ‘Ask these questions to avoid taking those rash decisions, ok?’

They nodded their head. Suri was curious, ‘Uly bubba! Who has the record for the longest jump in Vanarapuri? Tongu gave up immediately after you raised that point.’

Uly chuckled and said, ‘Why, Suri! It is your dad, Mr. Angad, who holds that mighty record.’

He left the little monkeys staring in disbelief and went on his merry way.

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And, Suri Loses A Race

Inside a deep, dark jungle, hidden to the outside world was the beautiful monkey city of Vanarapuri. It was home to hundreds of monkey families belonging to different species.

One such family was Mr. Angad’s. Mr. Angad was the Head of Security of Vanarapuri. His wife, Tara, was a teacher in the solitary school of the city. They had two kids – Nila, their nine-year-old daughter, and a little tyke called Suri. They lived in a pretty little tree house perched atop a mango tree in a sleepy part of the town called Marmoset Drive.

It was a day of celebration at Mr. Angad’s house. Suri, had turned five and a party had been organized for his friends.

Tara had prepared a variety of dishes that the young monkeys liked. Pitchers of fresh fruit juices were kept for refreshment.

Tara had baked a huge Strawberry fudge cake for her son. Suri beamed at the importance showered on him. His little eyes shone with joy as he saw the pile of gifts increasing in its size.

Everyone sang ‘Happy Birthday’ in chorus as Suri blew the candles out and cut his cake. He felt important – it was his day.

There were fun and games arranged for the kids after everyone had supped on cakes, sweetmeats and drank their fill of juices.

The toddlers played puzzles, hide and seek, climbing trees and musical chairs. The grand finale was the tree race – a competition whose winner was decided by the fastest to race a carefully planned circuit across the trees.

Suri was looking forward to the tree race. He wanted to cap his grand day by winning the race. He had been learning the art of swinging between trees and branches and was keen to show it to everyone.

The adults were placed at strategic locations to prevent any falls by the over-enthusiastic kids. Mr. Angad waved his green flag and it was ‘go’ time.

Suri started at a sprint, leaping recklessly between branches and making several awe-inspiring jumps. From the Mango tree he swung onto the mighty banyan tree, leaving the competition behind. His speed was complemented by his ferocity to win.

He was three quarters of the way when disaster struck. The last leg of the race involved a leap from a fig tree onto a tiny gooseberry tree. Suri, in full speed, overshot the jump and fell into the soft mulberry bushes below. He could only watch with dismay as, one-by-one, the other racers overtook him to the finish.

Suri was heartbroken. He had finished last on the race he was leading and that too on his birthday. Overcome with sorrow, he started bawling. Mr. Angad ran to pick his son and held him close to his chest as Suri cried his eyes out.

‘Shhh! There, there kiddo! Don’t cry.’

‘Puppa, I finished last in the race! I was leading…waaah!’

‘It’s ok, son. Winning and losing is all part of the game.’

‘But it’s my special day and I wanted to win. All the other goobaloos overtook me. Waaaa…!’

‘There will be many more races in the future, Suri. I’m sure you will win quite a few of them.’

‘Not fair, Puppa! They were all way behind me and every one finished in front of me.’

‘These things happen, my boy! Consider this failure as a lesson for the future.’

‘But, but Suzy won! How can a girl beat me?’

‘Suzy won because she was the best in the race, Suri. You should not think that just because Suzy is a girl, she cannot beat you. She won fair and square. You made a mistake and you lost. Don’t blame others for your mistakes.’

Suri sniffed back his tears. ‘I’m sorry, Puppa. I will go congratulate Suzy.’

Mr. Angad beamed at his son, ‘I’m very proud of you, my son. I wouldn’t have been this proud even if you had won the race. What you said now proves that you have sportsmonkeyship.’

‘Thank you, Puppa!’

‘Now, how could I let my son cry on his birthday! I have a very special gift for you.’

Suri squealed on opening his gift. ‘A GAME-MONKEY handheld! Thank you, Puppa!’

Monsters

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The monsters are killing us. We were a proud community who made fabric that was appreciated everywhere. We were the pride and joy of our land, not anymore. How can we compete against the monsters that produce cloth at a rate unimaginable compared to our hand-looms?

Raw cotton prices have gone up as most of it are being sent to be fed to the monsters. We cannot buy cotton like before and whatever we produce are sneered at by the agents of the monster masters. I would have liked to write everything down, but they broke our thumbs too.

This is a piece of fiction inspired by the crippling of the Indian Weavers by the British Empire in the 18th and 19th century. 

Written in response to the picture prompt provided by Sandra Crook for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. Please find other entries here. 

Theme Reveal A To Z Challenge 2019

Time has indeed flown in a hurry. I had quite the eventful debut in the AtoZ Challenge last year (read about it here) and to say it was an absolutely phenomenal experience would be downplaying it. I made a lot of blogging buddies, improved myself as a writer, made a commitment towards writing regularly, and to place the sweetest cherry on top of everything wonderful, I became a published author. (My book ‘Tales With A Twist’ is available here)

This year, I intend to take you all on a journey to a very special place. You will read 26 stories about this wonderful place and its inhabitants. Without further ado, the theme of my A to Z challenge 2019 is….

*** cue drum-roll ***

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Welcome to Vanarapuri, the magical monkey-city filled with fun, frolic, adventures, and a little something for everyone in the family. There’s a lot we can learn from monkeys, definitely.

Relics

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Mom and Dad were already awake and bustling when I woke up. I lumber down the stairs to see Mom scrubbing the long-settled black goop out of an old vase, which until this morning lay undisturbed in Gran’s old room.

Dad shuttles between Gran’s room and the garage – his hands full of dusty relics and his mouth full of swear words.

Gran’s room will look lovely. Uncle Dom, Gran’s adopted son and a billionaire, will feel happy. She should’ve gone to live with him. Gran loved Mom a bit more, I guess.

The discarded piano somehow reminds me of Gran.

Written in response to the picture prompt provided by Anshu for Friay Fictioneers hosted by our lovely host Rochelle. Please add your links and read other stories here. 

 

The Legend of The Scooter Assassin

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‘Ever heard about the Scooter Assassin?’

‘Who?’

‘Only the greatest hit-man ever.’

‘Really?’

‘Yup! Ninety-nine perfect kills. An absolute legend.’

‘Wow!’

‘You know what his M.O was?’

‘Nope!’

‘Single 9mm round right between his victims’ eyes, from close range.’

‘How close?’

‘They could’ve kissed him.’

‘And yet he walked away?’

‘You could say that.’

‘But why was he called the Scooter Assassin? Did he murder someone with a scooter?’

‘Nah! He used to ride a scooter to work. Drive close, pop, ride away.’

‘Pretty neat. Did he retire?’

‘Nah! He was killed after his ninety-ninth.’

‘How?’

‘The mark’s posse ran him over with a truck.’

Written in response to the picture prompt provided by CE Ayr for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. To read other stories, please click here. 

Of Past Things

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‘Do you see that old building there?’ Don nodded eagerly to his Grandmother’s question. ‘Si, Abuelita! I do.’

‘That was where I met your abuelo for the first time.’

‘Wow! What was he doing?’

Abuela had a wan smile over her wrinkled visage, ‘He was stealing bread from that deli.’

‘Ha! That’s funny.’ Don had a funny look, ‘Abuela, what is a deli?’

‘Delis were places where you could eat food.’

‘Hmmm! I’ve never been to any place to eat.’

‘Yes! Those places exist only on your mobile phones these days.’

 

Written in response to the picture prompt provided by Jean L. Hayes for the weekly Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff – Fields. To read other entries please click here. 

Glass Roses

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The package arrives precisely at 3 PM. There is a ‘Fragile’ sticker plastered on it. Sometimes, I wonder at his maniacal attention to detail and his obsessive punctuality. Next Second, I curse myself.

I unwrap the usual layers of cotton-wool and bubble-wrap and cradle the beautiful and fragile glass rose between my palms. This time it is a yellow rose. My eyes start tearing up on their own volition.

I place the rose in the vase among its sisters.

Six beautiful glass roses!

Six lost lives!

I will nail the bastard even if it’s the last thing I do.

Written in response to the weekly Friday Fictioneers prompt hosted by Rochelle Wisoff – Fields. Please find other stories here.