The Cheerleader

I had dreamt about this day since high school. Dressed in white, walking down the aisle towards Richard.

Yet, nothing about today resembled my dreams. My father was not around to walk me down the aisle nor was I able to walk. I had lost both in a car accident a year ago.

Richard deserved a better wife. After all, he was a successful tennis star.

Someone patted on my shoulder. I turned around on my wheelchair and faced Taylor, my elder brother.

“It is time, Lara. Richard asked me to give you this.” Taylor slipped a note into my hands.

Don’t keep me waiting, sweetheart.

I have waited a lifetime for you. Come to me.

Won’t you be my cheerleader forever?

Only yours,

Richard

I wiped the tears that had flowed out and allowed Taylor to lead me out of the room.

I couldn’t ever refuse to be Richard’s cheerleader.

(150 words)

This post is part of #FridayFotoFiction by Tina and Mayuri

The Dream

Someone was chasing me. If I could reach that distant valley, I would be safe. But, a rough pair of hands grabbed me and I screamed for help.

“Piya, wake up. What happened?” The voice of my host was a relief to hear as it convinced me I had been dreaming.  

Later on, inside his old Spanish bungalow where I was staying, I came across a small round window with a view that was eerily familiar.

At that moment, a pair of rough hands grabbed me. My spooky host. I pushed him and ran hoping my dream wouldn’t come true.

Word Count: 100

The Palace

Years ago, a little girl used to wait here, leaning on the arch.

She hoped her father, the caretaker, would open that little gate above those stairs and invite her into the palace that lay beyond. 

Instead, every time he would come down and take her back to their dingy cottage in the valley.

“No, my dear. The queen doesn’t want any kids wandering in the corridors of the palace. She detests kids.”

Now the queen is long dead. Royalty is not revered anymore. 

But I am the new owner of the still beautiful palace. I married my beloved prince.

Word Count: 100

This post is a part of #FridayFotoFiction 

A Bookish Love Story

Image Source

He had met her on the metro. They smiled at each other because they were reading the same book. 

Phone numbers were exchanged between the bibliophiles when similar meetings began to be repeated in the company of more books.

Their dates were always book outings. They loved the same kind of books, croissants, and coffee. 

They went to book launches together to meet their favorite authors.

Soon they realized they were irrevocably in love.

Wedding bells and two years later, the stork arrived with a delivery. 

These days they are reading fairy tales with their little girl who loves books. 

This post is a part of 

The Legacy

David ran his fingers on the keys of his Grandmother’s old typewriter.

It was a unique piece. He had found it discarded in an old trunk in the attic.

This machine had created dreams, the many books that she had written. 
People still loved them.

He scrubbed the rust on it and his fingers pushed open a secret compartment in the bottom. 

Out fell a velvet bag containing a beautiful diamond necklace, one that had gone missing during World War II. 

Perhaps, she had hidden it there in a hurry when the Germans attacked and had forgotten all about it. 

This post is part of 100 word fiction prompt as part of #FridayFotoFiction hosted by Tina and Mayuri 

Keys

The prompt for this week’s Indispire is this:

Pick up the book you are reading and from the 12th page, choose a word and use it as a prompt to write your next post. Try to relate it in some way to the twelve months of the New Year. Don't forget to tell the name of the book to your readers. #TwelveMonths

The book I am currently reading is The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman.  The book seeks to teach the right principles, the right language to understanding each other in a relationship. Gary Chapman says there are five specific languages of love: Quality time, Words of affirmation, Acts of service and physical touch.

Sharing these quote from the book.

“Forgiveness is not a feeling; it is a commitment. It is a choice to show mercy, not to hold the offense up against the offender. Forgiveness is an expression of love.”

“We are trained to analyze problems and create solutions. We forget that marriage is a relationship, not a project to be completed or a problem to solve.” 

In a relationship, couples usually forgive each other’s mistakes frequently. But what happens when the threshold of tolerance is reached? The following story, which I am writing for #FridayFotoFiction tells what happens then.  The word I had selected from page 12 is marriage. This story talks about domestic abuse.

Keys:

Her mother-in-law had accidently given her the keys to her freedom when she had told details about her son’s food habits. A key, which she had been seeking desperately since the first day she had woken with swollen eyes and welts all over her body.

That day, she ordered his favorite chicken biriyani. While he pounced on the food, she stealthily threw away the bottle of unrefined peanut oil she had added into it out of the window.

Later, she wailed loudly when the doctor at the hospital pronounced him dead due to anaphylaxis, an extreme case of peanut allergy.

Word Count:100

I am combining two prompts for this post.

This  week’s Indispire and Friday Foto Fiction prompt being hosted by Tina Basu and Mayuri.

On their Wedding Day

The trees were green, the water sang as it rushed by and the birds chirped. Just like it had been years ago.

A little girl visiting her grandma’s house in the countryside had wandered towards this stream with its long wooden bridge where the villagers sat and fished. The little boy who had accompanied his father to the spot had looked up and smiled. And she had smiled back. They hadn’t known at that moment that they were laying the foundation for an eternity of love and friendship.

The newlyweds fondly reminisced how their friendship had blossomed steadily into love.

Word Count: 100

This post is a part of #FridayFotoFiction being hosted by Tina and Mayuri

The Song

Pic Courtesy: Saumy Nagayach

The sponsors were beaming the concert live on national television. When the first note of the violin hit his ears, tears began to sting in his eyes.

Miles away, his wife watched him blink back the tears. She would trade her life for this one moment. Today the world would rediscover her Anand, the singer who had forgotten to sing, caught in the vagaries of life.

Perhaps this would be the last time she would hear him sing. When the last notes of the song died away, she nodded to the attendant who pushed her gurney into the operation theater.  

Word Count: 100

This post is a part of #FridayFotoFiction being hosted by Tina and Mayuri

Clarissa

Image Credit – Timur Saglambilek

They weren’t meant to be. Fate had tried to drill that into their heads multiple times. Their hearts never listened. They had attempted many times to be together. But, destiny had always played with them.

Now at 55, he doubted whether it was too late. She was 50, single like him. Her presence and smile still evoked the same contentment inside him.

It was time. He walked over to her, went down on one knee and held her arms while the other diners watched.

“Marry me, Clarissa. I can’t live without you anymore .”

She nodded as her eyes had misted.

Word Count: 100

This post is a part of #FridayFotoFiction being hosted by Tina and Mayuri

Tamanna: Friday Foto Fiction

Image Credit – Fotolia 

The path ahead blurs as my eyes well with tears. I press down the accelerator and will the car to move faster.

I grab my phone as it vibrates with another message. It is from Tamanna’s father.  He has reached her apartment together with the paramedics. She is now stable. I send up a token of gratitude to the heavens and breathe.

I don’t want her to go through another such hypoglycemic attack alone. I am terrified of losing her. I don’t care what my parents think; I am going to move in with her. I love her, damn it!

Word Count: 100

This post is written for #FridayFotoFiction being hosted by Tina Basu and Sirimiri.