In that noisy market,
amidst the heady concoctions,
of colours and hues,
of sights and smells,
of cacophony and chaos,
all I heard was silence,
all I got was a whiff
of roses and you.
That great oak in my grandma’s garden
my long lost friend,
For many a summer evening I spent
her leaves rustling a gentle music
As a dreamy me weaved dreams.
Years hence, here we stand
The great oak and I,
she looks at me sadly
And asks am I weary?
I say yes I am
Come, says she,
rest some more
dream some more.
Holding broken pieces of me, I sat
on my balcony a summer arvo
pondering about love and life
wondering where had I gone wrong
and then a cuckoo came calling.
She made herself home, confident
sure of herself, unlike me.
And then she sang a song,
a melody that pierced my heart
She took me back in time
when my hopes were young
when my dreams were blinding
when loving myself came easy.
Back to the home she flew me
the one that still stands, just empty
where love meant mom’s food
where tears were wiped quickly
where kisses healed scrapped knees.
to the fields, where her kin sang to me
on cool evenings when I wove dreams.
She looked at me, holding my stare,
striking a final tune, as if urging me
to move ahead and still look back
to still dream, to still believe
and to find in myself, the little me,
who believed a kiss healed.
Sometimes in the midst of chaos,
I hear a silence that speaks to me
that whispers of things that could be
of the magical places that await me
of strangers who do not yet know me.
Sometimes, in the road full of people
that smell of food, sweat and perfume,
I smell a magical scent, a concoction
of dreams, love and a little musk
of the sea, roses and a little hope.
Sometimes, when sleep eludes me,
I visit that universe in my mind
that galaxy of dreams in my heart
and as my lids become heavy
the last thing I notice is
that the stars of that universe
twinkle just a little bit brighter.
I walked in rain, my body drenched,
soul parched, crevices in my heart
and then I bumped into you
and the clouds parted,
The world turned golden again.
Happiness had eluded me for long
hope had died a while ago
I travelled the world searching
for what, I know not,
then I bumped into you,
and the clouds parted,
Found myself, I had, in you.
The moons of the nights
lacked lustre and shine,
the sky, dull and gloomy
then I bumped into you
and the clouds parted,
a new moon shone
full of gloss, life and joy.
In those green fields, I roam still,
holding a kite, running wild,
chasing fireflies, against the wind,
towards the sea, hope in my heart,
dreams galore, love abound.
A part of me is a child still,
there I am in my mom’s kitchen
taking in aromas of spices and love,
I still sit on my dad’s armchair
on the porch, watching a sunset golden.
There I am, listening to grandma’s stories
picking tiffs with my brother,
eating mangoes in the backyard
jumping on muddy puddles with pals,
not a care in the world
Greasy faces, rosy hearts.
Oh! the child in me is still
a part of the adult me,
egging me on to chase dreams,
to weave hopes, to manoeuvre
through the troughs and peaks
and keep on moving
towards the sea,
against the wind.
Darkness has impossible depths
and hues that deepen at each step
down the abyss that never ends
I know, for into it I plunge,
me and my sunken heart.
An incessant ringing in my ear
a silence that is deafening
Away, I urge my feet to carry me,
away from the darkness that
is screeching its way into me.
In the midst of life, I am not alive
I am broken and I am defeated
by the pain, by the silence, by me.
The abyss of darkness I am in now
with its million hues of black
seeping into the cracks of
the millions dreams I had.
We are now welcoming guest posts in “Fiction in a Flash”. Calling for Original works of fiction/prose/poetry !
Selected works will be published in our FB page, Instagram and Twitter pages as well as our website https://fictioninaflash1.com.
Please note the guidelines below:
1. Material submitted should be original and in English only. Plagiarism is strictly prohibited.
2. The submission must not exceed 500 words.(the title of the piece is exclusive of the word limit).
3. Fiction in a Flash reserves the right to publish/reject the submission.
4. Along with the submission, a short bio of the writer/blog links etc can be provided.
5. No photos with the submission allowed. Fiction in a Flash reserves the right to add photos to the submissions.
6. Usage Rights: By submitting your work, you have agreed to allow us to publish it on the following platforms belonging to “Fiction in a Flash” :
1. FB Page
4. Fiction in A Flash website.
However, your story will be duly attributed to you across all platforms and on all mediums.
Please submit at
Please do NOT submit via FB messages as they will remain unmonitored.
A unicorn on my daughter’s face,
a piece of face painting that I love,
for in her young heart, she believes
in unicorns, in magic , in dreams.
The unicorn will be gone in a day
but I hope in her heart it will stay
as she grows to be a woman
giving her power and faith
making her believe in miracles
helping her conquer adversities.
My little girl, never let go of magic
when dissonance hits you
find harmony in your heart,
dream on a million dreams,
and somewhere within you,
cling on to that unicorn and believe.
She stripped off her dress and stood in front of the mirror. That tiny scar below her left eye, the first time, the first beating,twenty days after a fairy tale wedding. A minor glitch; happens in all marriages, she had rationalised, not wanting to take off the rose-tinted glasses that she had just put on.
Her eyes moved to a long thin line in her midriff. A mishap at the stairs, tripped, silly me, she had told the nurse who had stitched her up.
I hit the wall while heading to the bathroom at night, she had told a concerned friend who questioned a black eye.
A string of lies, so skilfully told that sometimes she believed them herself. Years of practice.
There had been a lot of time to walk out, leave him, start over. But she had waited, hoped, prayed that things would get better. He did seem so sorry in the mornings. I will stop it, I promise, he kept telling her. She kept believing him.
By the time her body filled with scars and cuts,
it was too late. She had died a thousand deaths every night, till she no longer felt the pain. Pain and love were buried by her in the same grave.
She gave a final look at the bruises she could see, and those only her heart could feel as she got dressed.
Kicking her bloodstained clothes aside, she sat back on the armchair and placed the 911 call.
There is always time to walk out, leave. Not just for her. She had waited too long.
“I have killed my husband”, she said into the phone, not looking at the lifeless body lying on the floor.
The pink curves of the mouth
are a world of hidden mysteries,
beckoning me, maybe it is me
I will discover in them.
The blue specks of the eyes,
flanked by brown mountains
promise me of secrets,
sizzling and scintillating
Is it him I have dreamt of always?
Sense it I can that I have found the one,
the one whose smile will be my haven,
The one whose love, a shroud.
He has laced through my heart,
the one who will be my safe place.