A poet watches from afar
as a woman in white flowing gown
transforms into a graceful Pegasus
taking to the sky with abandon,
hair entangled in spongy clouds
taking them with her
birds calling to this fantasy animal
who swoops down into a glowing lake
drinking honeyed water
and standing still
for a chat with the golden unicorn
in the midst of the lake
“Anita” called Tony
“Tony! You are early today”
“Yep. Where is the baby?”
“He was in the dining room, playing with those plastic fruit loops you got yesterday.” said Anita
“What! The loops are not meant for… wanted to test them in my lab.. Why did you take them out of the bag?” screamed Tony, running to the dining room.
The baby was nowhere to be seen.
“I put the fruit loops in the bowl” said a bewildered Anita “Where is the baby?”
“He is gone.” said Tony, his face ashen.
Written for Ermilia’s Picture it & Write.
The following short story was written for Alastair’s photo fiction.
Pat and Macy sat at the dining table, looking bitterly at each other. Then Pat lowered his eyes to his plate, stuffing it with food, barely looking up. This was their last night together. Their divorce would come through the next day. Macy’s eyes brimmed with tears as she reached for the juice. Losing one child after another, all those years of petty quarrel, misunderstandings – all of them were coming to an end. Why did she feel so terrible then?
Suddenly, the power went off. Macy sighed and went inside for candles while Pat searched for his torch. Pat had just located his torch when Macy screamed. Pat panicked and ran to the living room. The lit candle had fallen to the floor, mercifully just brushing Macy’s dress.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes” she replied, shaken.
In the torchlight, he saw the woman he had met and fallen in love with fifteen years ago. He had even forgotten what his wife really looked like. As Macy blinked back tears, she realized that they were holding hands.
This short story was written for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Kent for the photo.
“Is the apartment empty?” asked Sally, crouching in a corner.
“It seems to be” said Adrian, looking around.
They were runaway lovers. Adrian’s influential family had already dispatched search parties to locate them.
“The floor is creaky” said Adrian. Sally came to stand near him.
“Ouch!”
The ground opened and they fell below with a thud. Sally groaned while Adrian tried to get up. It was a dark cellar. There were confused noises around. A group of people stood around Sally and Adrian. Some of them made faces while some laughed and a few cried. All of them were old; except for a couple.
The couple helped Sally and Adrian rise from the floor. “What place is this and who are you?” asked Adrian.
“All of us are runaway lovers who took refuge in the apartment above. Some of them have been imprisoned in this cellar for the past 40 years. There is no escape route and many of them have lost their senses. Now we are awaiting the same fate.”
The following was written for Ermilia’s Picture it & Write
Alvin had been swimming for the past two days. But, he hardly felt exhausted. His heart was burdened with grief though. He had lost his ship and the entire crew to the devastating storm. His captain as among the last to fall. Alvin could still see his best mates, old hands and some new crew members struggling for their lives. He thought that he was going to die too, but was just briefly unconscious. He cursed his strong constitution and his fighting spirit. Land at last! He could see sailors on the shore as sun sparkled in the sea. All he had to do was swim for a few more minutes. Alvin could feel conflicting emotions war within him as he took a deep breath. He forced his body to be still and sank deep into the sea.
Detective Barlow surveyed the city from the terrace. He had been summoned in the early hours of the morning to investigate a case. A man, Felix, had fallen to his death from the same place. Felix had thrown a party for his friends in his fifteenth floor apartment. All of them were intoxicated and nobody saw Felix moving to the terrace. His shocked friends were now detained by the police.
Detective Barlow heard a noise behind him. A young man stood there, a determined look on his face.
“Yes?” asked the detective
“Felix was pushed down.”
“How do you know? Who are you?”
“That is not important. Let us just say that Felix has nobody but me. The guy in the dark blue shirt, Rory… He was the one.”
The detective looked incredulous. “Rory Smith called the police. Who are you? Felix’s neighbour?”
A loud commotion below interrupted their conversation. When Barlow turned around, the young man was gone.
Barlow looked at Felix’s group of friends while walking to the ambulance. Rory stood there with bowed head, a picture of sadness. The detective opened the ambulance door and a strong gust of wind blew away the sheet covering Felix’s corpse.
Barlow blinked, shocked. The corpse was the young man from the terrace!
“Arrest Rory Smith” he cried
This was written for Alastair’s photo fiction.
Welcome to Ligo Haibun Challenge.
We have two topics this week. You may choose either of them for your haibun.
1. Fantasy
“If one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can totally transform one million realities.” Said Maya Angelou
or
2. Inspiration
It is always the simple that produces the marvellous – Amelia Barr
Hope is a waking dream – Aristotle
The rules below:
Do add your haibun to the link collection below.
The special mentions for the previous week’s Ligo Haibun Challenge are as follows:
“Dad, are we going to the tennis club?” asked Joel
“Hmmm”
Joel was excited. He was glad when his school closed for the summer. He disliked studies and did not have the patience for books. He had already enrolled in the swimming class and looked forward to tennis. His father drove through suburbs and stopped in front of the public library.
“Dad, what is this?”
“I will return in 3 hours.”
“Wait. Don’t go” shouted Joel
This was so unfair. Joel neither knew the way home nor did he have money. He walked reluctantly to the library. He had heard that Harry Potter was reasonably tolerable, so he went to the children’s section. He struggled through the first page, but found himself engrossed as the plot unfurled. He was still absorbed in his novel, when his father returned.
“Dad, can you wait for a few more minutes?”
“Aren’t you angry?”
“Why?” Joel asked, distractedly. “Can we get a library membership card?”
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and Claire for the photo
“Mom! I don’t have want to have tattoos.”
“Listen, Sherry. It has been a norm in the country for so many years.”
“But, Mom…”
“Thirty years ago, we fought with our parents to get tattoos. It became a symbol of teenage independence in 2020. All teenagers have sported tattoos since then.”
“But, Mom, this is 2050. Human body is considered precious and pure now. I don’t want to spoil it with tattoos. It is so uncool.”
Seventeen-year old Sherry walked away in a huff. Her mother did not understand anything anymore. It looked like the fashion of bygone days was making a comeback.
This was written for Ermilia’s Picture it & Write.
Max started his car on a high. He had just been selected to represent his country in the formula 1 racing championship. He had to thank the drug dealers for this. He laughed aloud in his drug-induced state. The doping committee had been none the wiser.
He had started slow and then zoomed ahead, leaving the other cars behind. He had taken a quick left. Bang! Why did his head hurt? In his semi-conscious state, Max realized that he was not on the circuits, but on the streets now. He had tried to run into a building. He looked back to see a couple of fruit carts toppled on the streets. Some platform dwellers were screaming at him. A policeman stood near his window, eying him grimly.
Written for Alastair’s photo fiction
call2read 