happy

happy-

a tiny word,

two syllables, still vast,

says everything, saying nothing

at all.

* Poetic form:- Cinquain(2-4-6-8-2)

* For dVerse Open Link Night. It is a crude creation but I have no other words to splash around right now.

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Haunted

The rusty door creaked open.

“The house seems to be abandoned since forever.”

“It is spooky.”

“I like spooky things,” he held her hands grinning like a fool, which she adored and entered their abode for the summers.

“There will be so much work to do.”

“I have called for the workers. They will come tomorrow and make the place livable for us.”

They had reached the center of the lobby and took a look around at the ancient tapestry and crimson walls in the mid-afternoon light; the floor was bare but for a carpet bathed in dust and a grandfather-chair in a corner.

“This house is not haunted, is it?” she meekly asked.

“Oh yes it is.”

She gasped at the mad look in his eyes and that cruel smile, she had never seen before. She trembled from within as some red fluid appeared on his lips and he snarled.

She ran for the old rusty door but it was somehow locked. She hastily looked back but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh god… oh god…”

A loud banging sound resounded from somewhere. Tears appeared in her eyes, “Please save me… oh please!”
“What has happened to him?”

She crouched down still at that very position and felt a dull ache at her chest.

Some one was coming for her; she could hear the footsteps, soft but not silent on the carpet. They sounded distant. She was in a dream world; sweaty, her entire body numb but for the sharp pain at her chest and her ribs.

“Are you okay, darling?”
“I was just joking with some help from…”

She felt a soft touch on her face and she looked up at him, into his eyes, now completely normal, gazing at her with fear or was it love, she did not know. She closed her own eyes shut, never to open them ever again.

 *Written for the Trifecta Challenge.

Hanabi (Fireworks) Haiku

gleaming bright colors

hued with the paints of sparkle

fireworks in the sky

~

fun festival times

a play of fire all around

the burning night skies

~

radiant ablaze

reflecting back the beauty

still river waters

~

the dusk approaches

warding off evil spirits

with glazing fireworks

~

across river bank

looking for the hanabi

come hoards of tourists

~

a boom and a bang

piercing silence of the dark

the lights of glory

*Written in response of Carpe Diem # 229.

Painting: A 100 Word Story

“Attention!”

Bright sunlight pierced his eyes as he stepped into the fine painting and heard a loud baritone, “Attention!”

He looked around to find out the place of origin of the deep voice. But there was nobody around nearby, except for a guard standing alert with a rifle facing upwards, held in his palms; his face impassive, devoid of any emotions and his dark eyes sparkling.

There were people at a distance but he was sure nobody could see him and the still life beside him.

“What are you looking at?” spoke someone from behind.

He returned back to the reality.

copyright –Managua Gunn

*Written in response of the Friday Fictioneers Writing Prompt.

Baby Piano: A 100 Word Story

“I can’t forget how we grew up together and then got separated. And today, it is a coincidence that we could meet.”

“It is indeed.” He gave her a brilliant smile.

“You still smile the same,” she shyly commented.

“And you are still the same.”

They shared a quick kiss which was delayed for years.

“And you remember when you visited me at 1 in the night and tried to hide inside my baby piano when my parents came up hearing your loud voice?”

“Yes. And I remember why I visited you.”

They held hands, past memories flooding their minds.

Copyright- John Nixon

* Written in response of the Friday Fictioneers Writing Prompt.

you dream away, status

you dream away

to a distant land,

shimmering

with a glow

unearthly,

never seen before,

 .

you go prancing around-

letting your feet drown

in the desert sand,

raising your hands

letting them clutch air

and feel its feel

in the end,

 .

sit under a silver tree

crimson fruits hanging,

curb yourself

from sinking your teeth into

the luscious

spheres of poison,

 .

let your skin

absorb the bright

sunbeams,

let it burn

and sigh in relief,

 .

feel the jets of water,

on your palms,

spewing forth from

an unknown source

and grab the golden goblet

out of thin air

and have some water,

end up spilling

some of it

on your cheeks,

 .

hearing the thundering steps

of the giant

still yards away,

yet to arrive,

you do not go hide,

but run around

in no direction,

tired out,

sitting down

on a picnic bench

waiting,

 .

let yourself be grabbed

in those massive hands,

producing

an inaudible sound;

 .

the next moment

that comes to you,

you find yourself

waking up,

finding yourself

in the park,

lying under the ordinary

red maple,

rain droplets falling

over you in a certain rhythm,

a book resting

on your chest,

turned to the last page

now getting soaked;

 .

status:

you are done reading.

 

* Written in response to Wordle 112

that feeling

you know that feeling

when out of nowhere,

a thought comes across your mind

and you want to jot it down,

.

not because it is an important thought

but because something within you is urging you

to bring out the flicker of that light

that passed by the contours of your mind,

.

scribble it on a piece of paper

with a blue ink or black or even red,

keep on writing till the time

you have completely puked it out,

.

then store it inside a table drawer

already flooding with many such others,

place it carefully at the top

to be read some time in the future,

.

when you have almost forgotten about it,

one day you find it lying there lifeless, still

and read it in the light of the day

and simply smile at that cold thing from the past.