Inspite Of Bathing

I was born brown.
My mother preferred the colour.
I was all for maroon but
No one asked me
Well here I am,
With skin the colour of dirt.
Ah! Maybe that's why you treat me like it.

Submissions to Terribly Tiny Tales

Key word :- Smile
I fell in love with a magician.
He said he could make my smile disappear;
I scoffed at the idea.
Until one day he left,
and my smile followed.

Key word :- Smile

"It cures colds you know," he said with a devilish smile.

They mated like bunnies.

Now she's hoping they find a cure for AIDS

A Happy You

                                       

             Erin dug her face deeper into Rafaels chest. She liked it there. It felt like a place where nothing could go wrong. She looked up to him and smiled, while he kissed her forehead.

“Rafey, how did you know you were in love?” she asked her eyes already searching his, for answers. “I dunno baby, I just knew”, said “Rafey” leaning in for a kiss. She sat up straight, the frown, which made him want to laugh, made itself comfortable on her countenance.

“What kind of an answer is that? Dumbbell like you”

“Arre what to say baby, I love you na” he mumbled. She still looked upset. ”Okay you tell me how did you know?”he asked, knowing she always knew what to say.

Erin had the answer to that question for a while now, so pat came the response. “One day I realized my happy place, was a person that is when I knew.” frowned Erin. “I wish you knew too”.

“Now baby if you going to make frownie faces I’m going to have to tickle a smile out of you.”

“I’m warning you, I’m angry ha, you don’t come near me”.

Rafael however had already pinned her down, while he tickled the annoyance out of her. After two whole minutes Erin laughed in surrender. “You know baby, when I realized a happy you makes a happy me, that’s when I knew I was in love with you” grinned Rafael.

Erin snuggled to her happy place, smiling.

              

Because She Believed

Writing project: - My friend Runcil chose five words and a name, which I had to incorporate in a short story, it is short indeed. JThe name:-Reah,, the words:- umbrella, terrace, trains, creation, whisky

                                     Because She Believed

             Reah was certain, if she did fall for a man it would require him to smell of whiskey. Not strongly, of course but a worthy whiff was always a welcome. Men who smelled like men were unfamiliar to her, the perfumed ones seemed to keep their distance but those who smelled of the brown beverage were just about right.

             Her mind wandered, following the scent of her childhood, leading her to the scent of her father, she thought of how he was always unshaven and drunk when he kissed her, how once, he tried passing off "The Trains of the World" as a bedtime story, how with whiskey breath he would whisper in her ear to keep away from the terrace. He spent his life trying to keep her away from drunken men, when he passed away it was then that he truly succeeded. After his death, Reah remembered feeling like an umbrella bent in the wind, wondering if she would regain her poise when it ceased to blow. The wind did die down and with it a tiny portion of her being. She believed for it to be revived, it would require the love of the Makers hairier creation, so she waited for a man who smelled of whiskey.

         Because she believed a sober man was incapable of loving her.

Loving Junaid

                         Loving Junaid was so much easier when he was sleeping, thought Afsheen. He was, so much more understanding then. It had been sixteen months since her happiest day. She could remember it like it was a day before. Aalyah was not due yet. She was as impatient as her father though, so it was not long before that Afsheen found herself in the hospital with a frantic father and a brawling baby.

                         Afsheen was amazed at how her tiny her daughter’s fingers and toes were; she liked how she nuzzled to her breast while being fed. How could something this little possibly bring someone this much comfort? She wondered. The wondering and the feeding happened in concurrence. To Afsheen, Aalyah was a distraction, a rather adorable one at that, the baby kept her mind away from pressing problems. “Pressing problems” was tall man with grey eyes and long fingers that enjoyed playing with whatever it came across. If only Afsheen had made sure never to find herself in them.

                         She met him two years ago; sixteen at the time. She would take the longer route home hoping to bump into him. It is exceedingly difficult to ignore a man you desire to have babies with. Loving Azzam seemed like something of a wrongdoing, yet still there she was vying for his attention. Hoping to please him, she began learning how to cook. Three months of sleepless nights, pining glances had been rewarded when Azzam looked at her and raised an eyebrow. Afsheen felt something behind her chest stop moving. Almost immediately clandestine meetings were held; their conversations mainly consisted of Afsheen staring at his feet and Azzam playing with her hair. Although engaged at the time Junaid remained unacquainted with his fiancés arrangements, which explained the perpetual smirk on his face. Pity Junaid was a good man, those like him seldom realise what the pots cooking until their in them sautéing away.

                           The two were married off soon after Afsheen turned eighteen. Junaid attested to be a loving husband. He still addressed her as “aap”, still gave in to her whims, and still kissed her brow before they made love. There were instances when his wife’s infidelity peeked from beneath the covers, like when Junaid noticed his daughter’s eyes were so much like Azzam’s. Junaid’s love was not only blind but insisted others saw what he did.                  

                           Although having played the role rather credibly, Azzam’s mind deemed Junaid the “other man”. The covetous rage that should have been growing in Junaid’s chest was swelling in Azzams instead. Fathering Aalyah was merely a way of punishing Junaid.

                           Of late Afsheen had been avoiding Azaam he was now asking for more than her conscience was willing to overlook. Junaid on the other hand was growing rather sore, Aalyah was starting to resemble Azzam a little more each day. He was slowly catching on. It bought about a change in his behaviour he no more cared if she if she had a bad day, he no more made promises to her saying he would always be there, if anything he seemed to be getting difficult, hostility had found its way into their relationship, he barely spoke he had slowly begun to see his wife for what she really was. Something was amiss.

                            “Just a few drops” said Azzam pressing a bottle to her palm “it will be painless.” “We can be together then” he lied. She held the bottle promising nothing.

                             Junaid returned from work late that evening, habit led his fingers around the glass of milk. He drained it instantly. Before he knew it his head hit the bed, narrowly missing the pillow.

                             Afsheen returned a tiny bottle to its drawer and watched Junaid. Loving Junaid was so much easier when he was sleeping thought Afsheen.

                            

A story with bits left out

(This was an "unfinished story" assignment in college a few years ago.

Write a story with the ending ......... and the footsteps slowly died away.)

                     Jared, Jane and Jacob ignored her futile attempts to please them. They considered her words worthless, her features a mistake and her existence a sheer mischance.

                     Her hair was painfully disciplined, her eyes seemed to be ageing quickly and her lips did little other than quiver. The only creation bushier than her eyebrows was a squirrels tail. She was born a wall paper flower and for certain lived like one too.

                       The first evening of January was when she met Jacob, a heavy man whose vocabulary consisted mainly of grunts. She walked into his office on trembling feet. Jacob stared at her. The walls in his office somehow more expressive than than his face. After an attempt to converse she placed a spiral bound manuscript on his desk. He read the first page, pretended to go through the rest, then said she was a fool to think it would sell.

                       The first evening of February was when she met Jane whose level of obnoxiousness surpassed her intelligence quotient(140). Jane lived to work. She enters again. This time as though walking on broken glass. She spoke using incoherent words, a sharp contrast to Jane's refined pronunciation . Unlike her brother Jane did not turn pages, she simply turned her visitor out, after reminding her that she was a fool.

                         The first evening of March was when she had planned to meet Jared. Though he was well prepared, he turned her out at the door.

                         She walked herself away knowing she would return.

                         The first evening of April she returned to meet them. This time with an unlicensed gun.

                         

                          "Happy April Fools'" she said, her lips still quivering and shot Jared, Jane and Jacob Footstep.

                         She stood still not looking back, as the Footsteps slowly died away.