The Short Short Stories

Goaded by a challenge from Gayatri Gadre - #gayatri_gadre - of one short short story each day of July - totalling 31 stories, the pen started to fly after a long long time. Here they are - 1st to 7th July to start with. #Tiniature

1st July – The Couple

He gave her a last look as she slept peacefully knowing he was around. Without him, she would not know what to do. At eighty five, nothing had changed. He took a deep breath and placed his pillow on her face. She struggled faintly and grew quiet. He removed the pillow and put it back. He slipped under the quilt and switched off the light. He turned and hugged her, cradling her. He inhaled her for one last time. Satisfied, he closed his eyes. She was now safe.

2nd July - Fatherhood

She lost the child in the wee hours of the morning. Her husband had rushed her to the hospital. The five month old died inside her and nearly killed her. She could not separate the pain. Of loss of blood and the child. Her husband was inconsolable and kept breaking down, holding her hand. Always. She had to grit her teeth and stop herself from asking him to get out of the room. His bawling did not even let her revel in the pain. And It was not even his child, she thought bitterly.

3rd July – The Convict

She cried her heart out when her husband was convicted of his girlfriend's murder. She did every possible thing to save him. Their only hope was the missing weapon but the circumstantial evidences were too strong. She reached home drained. After three strong bourbon, she lifted herself and dragged herself to the kitchen. She pulled down the jar of ghee, now frozen as it does in winters. Viciously, she plunged her hand in and withdrew the air sealed zip locked bag. She eyed the gun inside. Then once again she cried her heart out. Out of sheer joy. At that precise moment, two men stepped out of the shadow. Her jaws dropped. She knew both of them.

4th July – Body on Sale

He took the cash and shoved it into his jeans pocket. He dropped the sling bag and undressed. He lay down on the couch spread eagled. An hour later, he washed the grime away with warm water cascading down his waif like body. Pulling out the knife from the bag he walked out naked and in a flash drove the knife down the man’s throat, slicing through the jugular vein. He dressed, picked up his bag and left. His tenth client. His tenth murder. Not bad for a fourteen year old.

5th July – The Widow

Widowed at the age of fourteen and Left in the company of widows, she spent her life wearing white and her only companion was the flowing water of the river Ganges. At sixty she inherited the house of her parent in Delhi. She moved in carrying a bag smaller than a beggers. Inside cupboards she found clothes in all possible hues and colour. She gave them all away. Accidently, she walked into a tattoo parlour one day. Three hours later she walked out. Proud and elegant in her walk. Grey hair, snow white clothes and a blazing red bindi tattooed on her forehead.

6th July – The Affair

He drove his car into the parking. It was his twenty fifth martiage anniversary. The image of the girl flashed through his head. She was younger than his daughter. At midnight, he finally made up his mind and drove to the girls flat, his gift to her on  her eighteenth birthday. He rode up the elevator and rang the bell. To tell her he could not live without her. The door opened. His son stood there in boxers. "Dad?"

7th July – The War

They stood there in the dark pointing their gun at each other while the war waged on. An hour later, they were both hunched inside a trench in what they felt was a no mans land, bleeding. One was narrating stories of his mother in Lahore while the other was sharing anecdotes of his daughter in Amritsar.