Mix Salad

(Written for Weekly Writing Challenge : This week’s challenge is to use the aid of an unreliable narrator in telling your story)

“C’mon Jenna, hurry up with my tea, will ya?”

Old Ma hollered down the hallway. Tess shivered. She hated the Thursday of every week. For it meant it was her turn to serve Old Ma for the day – breakfast, mid morning snack, lunch, high tea, dinner and everything in between. The torture was unbearable. Snide remarks, occasional slaps and the volley of curses – she seemed to bring out the worst in that horrible woman.

“Lost in thought again, are you? Are you making fanciful plans of going to Hollywood? Or is it the yatch trip with that despicable boy Jerry? C’mon you daydreaming cow, do you think I have all day to sit and wait for a stupid fluff like you?”

“‘Not that you have a choice,” Tess sighed. She knew Fanny had set the wooden legs afire on purpose. Which meant Old Ma was confined to her room all the time. Fanny was such a lovable girl –always up to some mischief! She always had this twinkle in her eye, as though life was a big joke to her. “Someday I would like to be as fun as her,” Tess thought ruefully, walking out with the meal tray. Shivering from head to toe.

On top of the staircase, she was glad Nyla took over. Nyla had always been good to her. Whenever Tess was in trouble, Nyla would be her saving grace. That girl seemed to worship the old woman. There was a sort of reverence in her eyes that was definitely not fake. She knocked the door and quietly entered Old Ma’s room.

“What a mess this place is,” thought Zenia. She made it a point to leave the room spic and span, and yet every morning the room looked like it had been struck by a hurricane. “What have you done this time Beth?” Zenia sighed. It was true that no one petrified Old Ma more that Beth, but this was getting out of hand now – if not checked in time, she would probably end up killing the old woman. “Not that anyone would be upset about that,” Zenia grinned. She was glad to not be on the receiving end when Beth was in her full blown fury – those angry red eyes would make even the most brave hearted cower in fright.

Old Ma placed the tray on her lap and looked up, not sure who to expect today. Her eyes immediately softened and she clutched the pretty girl in front of her. “Marion! Oh thank heavens it’s you! I’ve missed you my baby. Don’t leave me. Please don’t. The others…the others…they are you but just…just not you.”

“I know Ma, I’ve missed you too.” Marion smiled at her mother. She stared out of the window enjoying the moment…not knowing which one of the others would take over her mind next.

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The Window Scraper

(Written for Friday Fictioneers)

It has been so many months since I wrote a flash for FF. Glad to be back 🙂

Photograph by Ted Strutz

Photograph by Ted Strutz

 

Scrape! Scrape!

Without glancing at the screen behind her, Stella knew it was Dooz at work again.

Dooz had been given his plastic dental tools as a reward for good behaviour.

Each day, he spent some time trying to scrape the life out of the window. ‘I need some fresh air’, he complained in his shrill voice.

It had been three years but there was not even a scratch on the fortified window.

Stella suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder.

The last thing she heard was Dooz’s icy voice in her ear – “You forgot the door was made of weaker glass missy.”

 

 

 

The Knife Story

(Written for Alastair’s Photo Fiction)

It was late when I got home.

The first thing I heard were ominous whispers emanating through the door.

Take the big knife, and cut the thigh here.

O god an evil sadist has got Grandma! , I panicked.

Then take the medium knife to separate the shoulder joint.

My feet seemed to have fallen asleep and wouldn’t accompany my upper body in the sudden dash towards the door. The inertia made me fall. I expected the hacker to lunge towards me at any moment but the whispering continued.

And use the smallest knife for better precision.

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Photograph by Alastair Forbes

Large, medium, small!

HE WAS USING THE SAMURAI SWORDS MOM GOT LAST YEAR FROM CHINA AND WAS CALLING THEM KNIVES!

Shushing the ‘English teacher’ in me, I decided to take matters into my (horribly jittery and sweaty) hands.

I could barely hear the whispers now, because my heart was beating in my ears.

 ‘..and then grill the meat..’

I couldn’t bear to hear anymore and rushed to rescue (what remained of) Grandma.

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Grandma slept on the couch peacefully and a chef on TV was sharing his recipe for making Chicken Tandoori.

Not everything is a murder mystery.