Why Did You Run?

Denise’s Six Sentence Story prompt – Metre

He needed to feed the parking metre before the concert finished, and he was busting to pee.
The clear option was bathroom trip first, then feed the hungry box, but at the corner of his eye, he saw the ranger looking at his number plate.
Shite! He couldn’t afford to pay another fine.
Trying to beat the ranger to it, he raced towards his car.
The ranger looked up, her face turned ghostly pale and started to run.
He was puzzled till he saw himself in the reflection of his car window, a 6 foot 7 giant in a Kiss costume.

Beautiful After Sunset

He wants to be seen by only few. The mass makes him anxious. I did’t believe him because he made his wealth from his look, not his talent. His shyness, to me, is a gift. An unassuming man is so attractive.

We always meet after sunset when people barely make out who they see. It suits us to tug away somewhere fading into the evening lights. He is so beautiful and soft. I always want to pinch his cheeks to make them blush for me, and I almost tell him that he is my triple crush, all in the span of sharing a burger and fries.

“What are you thinking?” he asks. I am caught off guard, I choke on some pickles, coughing and laughing. Finally when I regain my breath. I look into his eyes and say, “you are beautiful after sunset.” He fixes his gaze on me and holds my hands, slowly and softly, he murmurs, “I only bloom at night.” Oh mine, I have just discovered his poetic talent. “And you are more than a pretty face.” I chuckle.

Deception

Living Poetry picture prompt

This time of the year, the splendid colour always reminds him of Clementine, a beautiful woman with porcelain freckled skin and fiery red hair.

She was neurotic, spontaneous and wild. It was an instant attraction without reservation. He fell in love hard, like the cedar wood.

How he wished that to be a fairy tale, ignoring her interchangeable sweetness and sourness. When he was around her, she blanketed him with warmth and zest. But when he embraced all she was giving out, there was always that invisible chill he felt. He was not a smart man. He only quit after seven broken hearts over three years.

Today, he still ponders about their love. This time of the year, in the forest of orange trees, he thinks about Clementine, a woman like the autumn cold air, whom he once loved deeply and wholeheartedly.

Little Girl in A Big City

The tired city is as exhausting as the social media feed. It loses its stimulus power to empower to be impulsive. The anxious feeling holds her in a spinning fidget. Everywhere her sight is exposed to sending a chilling spasm to her core.

Who would think under the city limelight, there are souls feeling so drained and distained. She wonders if she is trapped in a mortal body with a timeless soul. Layers and folds of wrinkled psyche are unable to stay afloat.

There is no mirror on the wall to tell her future, neither a fantasy bubble floating in the suffocating air to give a glimpse of hope. She can only pick her scars to remind herself that she was once alive and lived. Pain used to be her lover, who now has long gone. Numbness invaded her every cell. She wonders if she will be the sole witness of her own diminishing. Will the sleeping world even notice if the stars blink out one by one?

The Club

This is written based on Denise’s Six Sentence Story prompt word – Club.

Lion Bark was a world famous golfer who won many titles which were a few shied away from the young men he slept with during his long career.

One of his winning clubs was gifted by his favourite Korean lover, which he took with him around the world wherever he played in tournaments. That club reminded him of his lover’s parting words, “I’ve given my blood, sweat and tears to this club, wherever you go, take it with you in remembrance of me.”

Over the years he tried to reconnect with his Korean lover without success. His response had always been that he was under the surveillance by his government officials for crimes he did not commit.

Little did Lion Bark know, he is the reason that his Korean lover was not in jail, because of the murder weapon he kept with him.

You Are Dead to Me

A six sentence story based on Denise’s prompt – Guard

The Queen has an oinker son who is deserved of being barbecued, for he is a pedophile.

He was born with a silver spoon and has been milking it ever since.

When the shit hit the fan, he hurried to cling to his mother’s skirts.

‘My Queen, I have been naughty; in your Holy book, I am forgiven, it’s my right to be forgiven by you, Mother.’

The Queen swallowed her tears and called out ‘ Guards’.

‘Oh no Mother…oh no…how about my teddies?’ while he was dragged out of the palace.

The Selfish Writer

She woke up in the middle of the night, he was smoking weed, tripping and reading a book.

We need to break up, she said, I am breaking up with you; What? Why? What’s going on babe?

I am a writer, and I can’t write without feeling things, I haven’t been feeling it since I met you.

But baby, how can that be my fault, I haven’t done anything wrong, he protested.

Shut up and fuck me to oblivion, my head hurts.

He obliged, she is his sin and everything is about her.

* This is written based on Denise’s Six Sentence Story prompt – Sin

Table for Three

I try to look through the foggy glass windowpane to a far away escape.
My agony drown in the absence of tears and apologies.
Questions rushing through my fragile mind.
The endless waiting, the future without our past, the changed heart without warning, the intrusion of our love, all these heartaches I can’t put into words…

Thank you MasticadoresIndia for publishing one of my short writing pieces. And thank you Terveen for the summary notes in the comment section. I am honoured if you would visit, read the full story and explore more good writings on their site.

The Great Wall


If you ask me about the splendid of the great wall, I’d be too ashamed to admit that I have any connection to it. I would go so far to even deny that I am Chinese.

In 1997, Beijing’s summer was hot and dry. After an unsatisfactory meal, I was dragged to go along to see the Great Wall. I couldn’t think of anything worse to do. I would have been a lot happier to stay in the cheap hotel and enjoy a mouth watering watermelon in air-con.

The tourist bus took us all the way up to the top. People had already been queueing up to walk the Great Wall. I got off the bus, physically felt sick. My stomach was churning and I was about to throw up. My companions were in a dilemma. I saved their disappointment by excusing myself to the bathroom and asked them to go ahead to climb the Wall without me.

A bit of a breeze cooled my head. My stomach started to settle. I saw loads of people gradually disappearing like a snake crawling along the Great Wall. I sat on a chair in one of the stalls. The owner offered a service to write a poem based on my full name on a banner with a Chinese calligraphy brush. I had some time to myself and was curious to see what he would come up with. In less than two minutes, he skilfully moved his brush and created a four-line poem with seven characters in each line. I was beyond impressed by his talent. His interpretation of my name gave a new meaning with blessings and depth.

I could not help but thought that’s my reward for not offending the ghosts by trampling their grave where the Great Wall laid upon. The Great Wall of China was built on human sweat, blood and lives, a place where the crows kept coming back for carcasses buried long ago.

The Promise Ring

You are so far away from me now.
If not for your long shadow, I wouldn’t have remembered us.
All our past was edited into this novel for someone out there to read.
My bookshelves are filled with read books except this one.
The Coke can pull-tab bookmarked the page where he proposed to her with that promise ring.
The innocence of pure love stopped me from reading the rest of the tragedy.