A Bridge Over You – FFF 25

It is Tuesday evening which means Flash Fiction Foray Time with Matt the Book Blogger!

Check out his prompt post here.

The song this week, ‘A Bridge Over You’ by The Lewisham and Greenwich NHS Choir, released this Christmas, hoping to get to the Christmas #1 spot!

“There you go Mrs Smith, all nice and clean now! Sorry, what was that? Oh yes, I know, I hope your son will get over here this Christmas too. I’ll be here with you as well, don’t you worry. Oh, I can hear another bell, excuse me…

Yes, Mrs Jones, what can I…? Oh, yes I see, let me just adjust your pillow. I know it’s not the same as home, but I’ll try and make you as comfortable as I can… Sorry…”

Bell after bell…. Only one of her and sixteen demanding patients… Thank God she loved her job!

A tribute to our hard working nursing staff.

Five Minutes…

4

Five Minutes

Nothing…

All she could hear was nothing…

Well, muted sounds from outside, but other than that…

Nothing…

It was such a calming feeling, so good to feel at such peace, after the last few months. It had been such a hectic time.

To her it felt like she had not one moment to herself. Everyone wanted a piece of her. She was spent. Empty. Exhausted. Living for the others, not for herself.

It would be so easy, to lay like this, to slip down, to allow this peace to fully encompass her…

She lowered herself, just a little more, to see what it felt like, allowing the water from the bath tub to cover her eyes, her mouth, her nose.

After a moment, she sat bolt upright, catching her breath! What was she doing?

She tuned her ears again, she could hear the babble that was normal on the other side of the door, the children arguing, the baby crying, and her husband trying to be peacekeeper, but failing miserably.

Oh well, she guessed 5 minutes peace was more than she had had for a long time, and beggars can’t be choosers. She grabbed her towel, quickly dried herself, and wrapping her bathrobe around her, she opened the door.

A little piece of Flash Fiction inspired by Kruti’s Challenge!

Check it out here

Friday Fiction with Ronovan #6

Ron

The arrival of Friday brings the new prompt from the lovely Ronovan of Ronovan Writes for his Fiction Friday Challenge. Read more about it here.

This week’s prompt.

PROMPT FOR CHALLENGE #6

Click HERE for STRIPPING for FICTION or HOW TO WRITE FLASH FICTION.

Challenge This Week: Write about a family gathering. I know that sounds like non-fiction but by writing pieces like this you tap into emotional and sensory experiences you use for other writings. An example of this would be a short piece I did quite some time ago called My Ocean, My Lover. No Word Count limit this week, just no book lengths please.

And so here we go…

On The Shelf

I had been summoned home.

Another family function.

Great.

I had finished university a few years ago, and had managed to secure a pretty amazing job, even if I do say so myself, at a high flying marketing agency in Central London.

Living with two other girls, in a little, but very expensive flat in Shoreditch, I had got totally into the independent woman’s lifestyle, gorgeous clothes, nights out, a good salary… and now this call from home.

Now people would be happy to be going home, to see the family, and that would have been me too, a couple of years ago, but now things were different.

We had been invited to a large family gathering, to celebrate some milestone birthday of a cousin of mine, and I love a party as much as the next person, but I knew there would be a totally different feel to the whole event.

You see this wasn’t the first function I was going to as a graduate. Having graduated means, in most Indian mummies heads, that I was ready for marriage. So as I walked in, I would be being appraised by certain people with regards to my suitability for various boys of a certain age that they knew.

But the thing was, I didn’t want to get married. Not yet anyway! I had only just managed to get away from home, after living through my university years at home too. It had taken so much convincing to get my parents to realise that me moving to London wasn’t a bad thing, and all the talk of marriage proposals would start mum and dad off again, about me getting older, and not being settled, like all the other girls of my age.

That’s if I even get looked at… I mean come on, I was 26 now, practically mouldy in comparison to the fresh 21 year old meat that would be there! Oh well, let’s see what happened.

***********************************************

Oh it is painful, you know, sitting here, swirling the ice in my glass, trying not to make too much eye contact with the old biddies! I just about convinced my brother to get me a Bacardi and Coke… no one would know, it was just Coke to them, but I needed a fortifier.

My reliable family informer, a younger cousin, who is in awe of my ‘London-Life’, was telling me the latest gossip, about me! Apparently, I was shacked up with some man in London, which is why I wasn’t agreeing to any proposals, according to Pritam Aunty. Seriously? Just because I was not interested in her nephew? Why can’t people leave me alone!

But looking at my parents, and their downcast eyes, I do wonder, should I really be thinking about settling down? They look so upset, and it’s like a light has gone out in their eyes. Damn the family gossip queens!

Ritu 2015

All comments welcome 🙂

 

 

Stop the Cavalry – FFF #24

Matt the Book Blogger got me started on flash fiction all those weeks ago, and here I am about to complete the 24th challenge!

Wow!

Check it out here.

The song this week… Stop the Cavalry by Jona Lewie

Enough

Tears streamed down his dust encrusted face.

He’d had enough.

It had been months and months of relentless ambushes, no breaks, and after weeks of not even thinking, he had looked at his watch, and the date said 25th Dec…

What he wouldn’t give to be back home, safe in the bosom of his family right now, giving gifts to his children, eating his wife’s usually inedible Christmas dinner, dozing in front of the TV as the Queen spoke…

But no.

He was stuck out here, in the heat of the desert… fighting a battle that didn’t want to end.

Ritu 2015

I hope this suits the song… possibly being more serious than the song makes you feel, with it’s jolly beat, but the message, it’s the same…

Friday Fiction With Ronovan # 5- On A Saturday!

Friday Fiction with Ronovan… Yes I know it’s now Sunday, but hey, I needed time for other pressing issues, the last two nights, so here I am! The prompt post is here.

Challenge This Week:

  • Pick your favorite song and use the title for the title of your story. No, you are not to write a story about how you like the song.
  • Get rid of adverbs outside of your dialogue.
  • No word count limit this week.

Finding my one favourite song in itself was a challenge, I love so many

So my song, a particular favourite, is Don’t Let Go, by En Vogue.

It was poignant when Hubby Dearest and I were dating, and I still love the words to this day.

And no adverbs??!!

Oh this will be a toughie!!!

Here goes!

 

Don’t Let Go

“Don’t let go!”

That’s what he said to me, just before my grip loosened.

I didn’t mean to.  I mean, I had tried hard to hold on, but after 15 minutes of holding his feet, as he dangled over the edge of the bridge, I couldn’t do it.  He was heavy, and I’m just a slight lad myself.

It was all his idea.

He’d seen all these amazing graffiti-covered bridges and he wanted to ‘tag’ one too.  It had only been a couple of months since we had started spraying…leaving our mark around the local area, you know, the school hall walls, the bus shelter Ad boards.

But this, well it was a totally different ball game.  I had only been joining in to seem cool, you know, one of the gang.

Yet here we were, standing on top of this bridge.  The only way he said he could reach was by being held, as he dangled, upside down, and I had to grab hold of his feet.

I don’t know what masterpiece he was trying to create but our quick usual ‘tag’ that took a couple of minutes, seemed to take forever.  It was getting dark when we had reached there, and there were a few cars that had passed under the bridge, but none had stopped to see what we were doing.

But I felt myself tiring, and my hands couldn’t hold on for much longer. I told him to hurry up. I told him that I couldn’t hold on much longer, but he carried on.

Then, just as he said it… “Don’t let go!” my hands gave up, and as I looked up, there was a truck driving towards us, headlights beaming brightly….

Right, so I have read, and reread this so many times, I can’t tell of there are adverbs in there or not! It is totally different to the message of the song, but hey, it was the title that was the inspiration!

You can be my teachers now, mark it, tell me if adverbs slipped in, and what you think!

Oh Ronova, you make us work hard!!!!

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