Friday, 17 August 2012

Cinderella: the true story

This is my entry for what if blogfest.
I'm with 'team tragedy' though for some reason I'm not able to upload the team picture so apologies for that.
Enjoy reading!

And the prince and Cinderella lived happily ever after.


Or that was how the story was told, generation after generation to eager kids and awestruck toddlers-monitored closely, first by the prince's own ministers and then by their surviving relatives.
But sooner or later someone was bound to ask the question. And one day, a little kid finally did. 
Ironically, it was one of the prince's own descendants who asked the life-changing question.
'But what happened after, mommy?' 
The mother stiffened, the living descendants of the ministers stiffened. It is even rumoured that the grave digger near the dead prince's grave, heard him turn inside.
The child was expertly distracted, but the question had been asked and that meant the prediction of the good old fairy godmother might just come true- not that she could be any happier than they were, for the fairy godmother was dead. 
The Internet immediately filled up with all kinds of 'what if' stories. one  of the stories that popped up online under a tag of Therealstory01 told how Cinderella met an untimely death due to the hatred that emanated from her towards her step-family once she realised how badly she had been treated. In her anger and pride she had given them a death sentence shocking even the coldest of hearts in the kingdom. But something happened. The prince realised this wasn't his cinderella and condemned her to death but not before crafting an elaborate story, one which all of us have heard about.
The story received a thousand comments most of them rubbishing it off as false. But for those of us, the descendants of the real witnesses, it is a huge burden off the soul. We don't have to lie anymore.

Word count: 291

Wednesday, 8 August 2012

Step back

He stared at the tower of papers sitting on his desk, taunting him with their ink scrawled face and the typical 'freshly-printed-paper' smell. He stared at them letting the frustration build, letting the anger seep through the locked corners of his brain. He reached out to grab the one at the top. Slowly, revelling every moment, he ripped it to shreds. The floodgates opened and the fury  that had raged within for the past ten years drained out.
 Rip. rip. rip.
He was all the way down to the last when a chuckle escaped his throat.
The grass needed mowing. The report needed to be finished. The bills had to be paid.
Tomorrow he would do all that. But for today he would just take a deep breath, step back and break free from the incessant ticking of the damn clock.

Tuesday, 7 August 2012


She stood on the beach.
Seeing the golden globe dip into the endless waters of the ocean.
Watching the sky turn orange.
Witnessing shades of grey engulfing the hues of red.
Seeing the sky turn dark.
She stood on the beach living the moment,
Knowing there would be no tomorrow.

Friday, 3 August 2012

Blog flash 2012: Day 3

The prompt of the day- Colour.
She opened her eyes to a black and white world.
Where shades of sorrow hid in the subtle grey.
A hint of darkness loomed in the endless sky.
A cry of pain and a soundless sigh.
She opened her eyes to a black and white world.
Devoid of colour. Harsh. Cold. Emotionless.

Thursday, 2 August 2012

Blogflash 2012: day two

Today's prompt is 'a furry friend'. Happy reading!
"Can I keep it mommy? Please!" The six year old begged.
The mother looked at the cat, appalled by its worn out fur and strangely hypnotic black eyes. The cat mewed in response-the voice casting a strange aura around them.
"Please!" the son said again.
But the mother didn't listen. Entranced and enchanted she picked up the battered ball of fur and nodded a yes. The son shrieked delightfully.
The cat mewed again. <I> Another prey captured. </I>

Wednesday, 1 August 2012

A butterfly

It originates from the mind's deepest abyss, breaking the cocoon of inactivity and fluttering it's golden wings, breathing the sweet air of accomplishment as it flies off in an unprecedented direction.
It prances around from flower to flower, until it finds the one strong enough to bear the weight of its uncertain future - down in the dumps or up in the clouds.
And then it blooms, deriving nutrition from our perseverance and being ignited by that smallest of sparks that's called creativity.
Thus, the seeds of a better future are sown.
Word count: 92
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