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This post includes writings that are too short to be published as separate blog posts. Instead, each fitted the size of a tweet. I'm posting those from Twitter on my blog to keep them saved over reliability. This post would also include those passages that were not published on Twitter. Any piece exceeding 100 words may be published as separate blog posts.

Each new passage starts from the section breaks.

This page will remain a living document, and will keep getting updated with more writings.

Note: This post is for writers and authors. Bloggers and brands, kindly ignore this post and the tab "Flash Fiction" altogether, and refer to lifestyle niches tabs in the Menu button. Commenting is disabled for all posts under the mentioned tab.


It is her face. Just the face. And nothing below.

The body is invisible. 

It is that she is quite vulnerable when she opens up.

When that happens, I retract a little.

I feel a little intimidated by what she is behind that vulnerability. 

At the back of her body which is not there, and where the spine should have been, there is a dim and straight, smokey reddish brown barrier. Like a wall. 

Like strength backing her vulnerability.

Is that strength? 

No, I call them bricks.


Dead turning heads from their graves.

Offering burnt flowers and solace in black comedy.




Eyes wide awake

Time, is cunning

It stays silent

And calculates

People. Places. Situations

It sees through an action

And decides where and for whom to stay still

And where, in fractions of a second, will change everything.

For pleasure, devastation, or some more reckoning.


I am from the jungle

I got out, intact.

Intact like a tree bark - rough, furrowed, and bare branches adorning a leafless crown.

My blood turned inky and dried out years ago.

Your surroundings are clear

You remain, a moss.

Soft to touch.

... I want to feel it from within - its coarse dead blackness tangles my hand.

There is an uncomfortable pain. I try to withdraw my hand.

I see tiny razor thin cuts from where fresh blood oozes out.



It gets bigger in size as I head close. The chain-link fence has thin pickets, hiding its skeleton, adorning in false beauty. Some light peaks through. A vast green field. Further ahead are small trees and sheds; things keep getting smaller that I can't see. More distant is grey smoke... I always see that! Horizon breaks in carbon. Whatever is above that, is too far away and blurry. I move my gaze towards the sky up to the ninety degrees - a vivid outlook, cloudless, and blue. But the clarity spins my head and hurts my neck... I look down at the steel fence, and start taking out the boards.

I have to know what's over there. My breath picks up, and heart races. Climbing over a chair and table as aide, I jump to the other side. Everything looks the same as before, but there is something ahead. Elated, I start towards that direction. I tell myself to stay patient as I progress. Evening hits. Night blankets. My first sunrise reveals.

Things that are hidden and blur will eventually come out, and tell me all I need to know. When the time comes.



I've a meeting with my destiny.

I keep reminding myself for the nth time I'm running late!

Stuck in traffic.

My heeled sandal is cutting through my skin, and I'm impatient as ever to press the accelerator.

Signals change, but cars hardly move.

I wait for the yellow to get started.

"The other day I saw a traffic signal where yellow came first, then red and green" I think to myself.

But which one is it? Is it changing from yellow to green or yellow to red?

What am I thinking!

Anxious, I loose track.

I look at the road open. Relieved, I push hard on the accelerator.

Some speeding brakes are grinding closer from the right...


A collision. And a jolt.

Time stops.

Shaking, I slowly turn to look at the black car.

I black out.

Sirens go off.



"How much longer did you say it would take?" Rubbing my back while sitting on the bed, I asked him again.

"As long as it takes for me to get it right." He said while painting on the easel.

I collapsed into bed.

He turned around. Frowning, he walked up to me.

"Hey, you are still not what I want you to be." He said.

I kept my eyes closed.

He put a colored paint brush on the side of my face.

"Hey!" I said, startled.

"There! You're a better canvas. Exactly how I wanted it." A triumphant smile on his face.

I got up, and looked in the mirror. I became another being.

I wasn't me.



Distant screams. Music. Creaking rides. Thumping machines. Carnival food.

Seven year old stuffing his pockets with candy, and pushing a few in mine for later.

7: Mom, do you want one?

Me: Not the hard candy, but I'd have a candy floss.

7: I'll go find it.

He runs away looking for the candy floss vendor.

I usually buy for him, but now he's doing that for me. Is there a tradition where kids buy for their parents?

Well! As I wait and watch him getting one fluffed up, I open one of his candies and put it in my mouth.


I sit down to write about my life.

Where do I start

I look at the white wall in front

Beyond that, it turns monochrome.

Outlined in black. Smeared with oil. Corners soften to form curves...

Door opens behind me, and I'm brought back to reality. I turn around.

"They are calling for you." the boy says

He departs a small, soot black opaque silhouette.

I look at my notebook again, the paper has no lines.

My pen is vulnerable to bleeding ink.

Snap! The nib breaks. I have pressed down hard when writing.

Brows furrow, lips tense, hands tremble.

I put the pen down, get up, and leave.

The calling.



I let go

Of something I clung to

In despair, in desperation

In the void. Fiery.

I look up, eyes mirroring the sky.


In deceit I confront

I will conquer you!


Flashbacks. The impossible. Past. Moonless hindrances dressed as white ghosts. I awake in the present, holding my sketch book. A nice view. Did I just paint my future?

On my left and ahead, he sits, contemplating. I smile, put down the tools and bend forth. I kiss him on the ear.



Going towards perpetually fated

Voice a vapor, swirling away misty

And body rigid, face turned towards oblivion

Roaring waves refuse to carry me away

I remain black against the blue.



Seeing a pigeon tending to its squab; something about it irks me.

But then I look out the window. Weather is haze and calm. And I wonder, what do I want...

I'll just smoke it out!



Driving, I dread a thunderstorm coming,

sensing my fear, rain and the winds

allow me a calm retreat.


An apple in hand,

And rain in the background,

I'm walled up.


How learnt the magnetic current was, it flowed from your brain.

Vision so immersed, it is surreal.

The horizon spoke, gazing in the eye.

"You have arrived at your destiny!"


Flash Fiction at Lifestyle Prism.