Thanking You

I know it’s a little early, but this has been a great week! This week, I crossed 200 followers.

This week, I crossed 200 followers.

And to each one of you, I can’t say how thankful I am. Thank you for coming back each time; it motivated me to keep writing, to strive for better.

This blog has been lying bare for a long time. It was only recently that I took heart from the Daily Post’s Weekly Challenges, National Blog Posting Month, Today’s Author prompts and others like those. It’s been a great opportunity to meet new bloggers and do the virtual, ‘I-do-that-too’ jig.

I’ve been pushing myself to publish regularly, and it’s thanks to my readers who’ve kept the motivation alive. I couldn’t have posted as much without the conversations and the likes.

So, thanks again for reading. Hope you all have a great day, and week.

Cheers.

Rootless

Born in Atlanta —
To a Swedish mother
And a Welsh father.

Started speaking when in Moscow,
Set little steps in Morroco.

Landed in an Irish high-school,
Passed an English junior-high.

Built an American corporate,
Lived with a Canadian model —

Married to a Mex dancer,
Fathered a confused offspring —
And died rootless — the nomad.

rootless


My response to this week’s Weekly Writing Challenge. I didn’t want to go with anything serious, and so I came up with this little poem-story of a nomad to add to my collection of Flash Fiction. Also it’s National Blog Posting Month – #Day27

Play Terms

“That’s it — we’re done.”
“No, we’re not,” — Defiance, the only solace of the weak.
“Yes we are. I’m leaving and I’m taking her. Goodbye.” She turned to leave.
“No — wait. Please, give me another chance. Please?”
“You do this every day — I can’t take it anymore.” She folded her hands across her chest, waiting to hear the apology again.
“I won’t do it again!” — The hysterical plea. “I promise, don’t go.”
Heaving dramatically, she sternly added, “Alright. But if you pull out my doll’s hairs again, I’m taking her away, and we’ll never be friends again.”


Dialogues are fun; you hardly know where you’re going until you’ve read it whole. Just over a year ago, there was a Weekly Writing Challenge for dialogue. I liked the idea but couldn’t think of anything to write then — I suddenly remembered it and took it up for today.

National Blog Posting Month — #Day10

And so they wait

They all loved her, the embodiment of selflessness.

She was always there, just a phone call away, waiting to listen — to sympathize and to make anyone feel better about themselves.

She was neither a nurse, nor a psychiatrist. She was a waitress, waiting tables for a job and pacifying people for mere satisfaction.

So many people knew the waitress, not her. She had been a waitress for three years, and it didn’t matter where she came from or what she did before that. She lived alone and never went on vacations. Some thought her an orphan, and anyway, she was too busy during weekends. She hardly had the time for anything except the ones who asked for it. They’d call her for money, to pick up an urgent present for a loved one, for advice, and to whine about love . And every time — she would listen.

And she seemed happy. She would smile and nod in acknowledgement. She would sit on the couch and give her rapt attention to anyone who needs it.

She knew of the love lives of all her neighbors, and of Mrs Nextdoor’s problems with her dog. When kid upstairs told her about the new girl in his class, she smiled, ruffling his hair.

She would come in early for work and stay until the manager closed the restaurant late in the evening. If anyone needed her, they knew where she’d be.

One fine day, she didn’t show up for work.

Her phone was dead, and no one knew her address. They waited. The needed her to listen; no one else would.

But she never came back.


Again, I’ve clubbed this week’s Writing Challenge with my usual Flash Fiction series. Let me know what you think.

I’ll be there for you – Tanka

It was a worn cliff.
From the edge, he looked down — wondering.
What’s the point of waiting?
Who would miss him if he left?
“Woof,” came a definite answer from behind.

woof 1


I didn’t want to miss this week’s writing challenge, so I clubbed it with my customary Flash Fiction. I stuck to the pattern, words in the sequence, 5-7-5-7-7