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Plum Blossoms In Paris – FlashFiction Contest

Plum Blossoms In Paris – FlashFiction Contest

Hello and welcome to So You Think You Can Write write write….

Our dear, dear friend Sarah Hina is officially a published author now, with her first novel ‘Plum Blossoms In Paris‘ delighting readers wordwide.

So we are hosting a Flash Fiction Contest to help her promote her book. There are two copies of ‘Plum Blossoms In Paris’ to be won (isn’t that delicious?)

The contest guidelines are simple:

- Register yourself and sign in, on the login panel in the right sidebar (if you’re new to this site)

- Write a story/poem in 1000 words or less on the following image prompt and post it in the dashboard available to you, once you’ve signed in.

- Sarah Hina, author of ‘Plum Blossoms In Paris’ would choose two winners at the end of the competition, who will get a brand new shiny copy of ‘Plum Blossoms In Paris’

- Contest deadline is July 20th, 2010.

 

Budding authors always help and support each other. Thats what makes us the ‘cool people’. So help us spread the word about this contest and in turn, about her book. We need all the writers and readers that we can get, so we are counting on you. Big time.

If. If by some itsy bitsy tiny winy chance you don’t win the competition. You can buy the book online: HERE

It’ll be your best investment of the year!

To know more about what we  do and why we are here, please go through: http://www.flashfiction.in/2010/03/22/a-new-hope/

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June 30, 2010 Post Under Announcements, Contests - Read More

A Clockwork Red

A Clockwork Red

Cup-cakes

 

Posts on this prompt:

Chor Bizarre by Amrita

The summer of ’69 by Kits

Tick Tock by Aniket

Pendulation by joaquin

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June 30, 2010 Post Under Featured - Read More
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Pendulation

Pendulation




I must be good at something –

law of averages and such –

just haven’t figured out yet

what it is or quite how much


broken bells

and broken clocks

and rusted keys

to broken locks


I know nobody’s perfect

so the converse must be true –

everyone must have a place

and something they can do


broken clocks

and broken plates

and hinges hung

with broken gates


the people rushing past me

all have somewhere else to be -

six billion people out there

so there must be one for me


even broken clocks

they say

are right a couple

times a day.

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June 28, 2010rss Post Under Flash Fiction, Poetry - Read More

Tick Tock

Tick Tock

“Hey! Watch where are you going?”


The man who had pushed his way through him didn’t bother to turn back. He just flicked him a finger as he kept running.


A hand rested on Will’s shoulder and he turned to acknowledge the person it belonged to.


“Now what the fuck do you want?” said Will as he shrugged the strangers hand off his shoulder.

“You manage to piss off people quite easily, don’t you?”


“Look. Whoever you are, I don’t want to buy anything. I just want to quietly wait for my train.”


“Trust me, you do want to hear me out…”


“Look I’m trying to be polite here. I seriously don’t have the time for this.”


The stranger chuckled, “Funny you should say that. For I have all the time in the world. But you’re right. There is no point in talking. You would’ve never believed me in any case. Its better if I just showed you. Look at that clock” He snapped open his umbrella and grabbed Will’s shoulder.


In a flash of a second, they were standing on the road amidst heavy rain.


“What the hell just happened? How did… how did we…get here? You.. you did that? Who are you?”


“You sure want to talk now, don’t you?” Will could tell that the stranger sported an evil grin under the hood of the umbrella as he continued, “As for who I am, the answer is that I am a time lord. In simple terms I control time. And as for how do I do that, well there is no way I can put it that your bean-brain would understand.”


“Where are we?” Will stammered.


“Oh, come on you know this place. You do recognize that watch tower don’t you? The correct question would be when are we? The answer to that is the watch tower there. We haven’t traveled much. In fact, its the same day. Just nine hours after I met you at the station.”


“Why did you bring me here? What do you want from me?”


“Can you see a man lying near those steps? Thats you.”


Will choked on his each word as he uttered, “Me? Why am I lying on the ground? What happened to me?”


“Well, you’re dead of course. Otherwise I would have been to all this trouble for nothing.”


Will was drenched in rain but one could still identify his tears. “How did this happen? How…?”


“You get murdered this day at 8:44 pm”

“So that’s why you came to meet me? So that you can prevent my death?” he looked at the time lord with hopeful eyes. “You can take me to the time I get murdered right? And stop it?”


“Umm. Yes I CAN. Of course. But then, what would be the fun in that?” Will stared at him, open-mouthed in horror. “You see, being a time lord, I am an immortal with an eternity to live for. And when you’ve got all the time in the world, the world gets, well – boring! So here I am to add a little spice to it.”


He snapped the umbrella shut and placed a hand on his shoulder again. They snapped back to the station, will still soaked in water.


The time lord spoke softly this time, “You have till 8:44 in the evening to save yourself, if you can. I’ll be watching.”


“Wait. Who kills me?” Will pleaded.


The time lord snapped his fingers and was gone. His words still lingering behind him, “If not sooner, you’ll find out in another nine hours”


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June 25, 2010 Post Under Flash Fiction - Read More
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The summer of ’69

The summer of ’69

‘Mooncherrypie’, he cried out…she didn’t even look behind. It was her special name, something he had invented for her.

She tossed her long black hair and stopped. His heart skipped a beat. ‘Would she turn and acknowledge him and his love?’

She did turn around but all she did was glare. Stared through him as he was nothing – all those hot, summer nights passed into oblivion in that instant.

She ran out of the store clutching her dress as it fanned out around her legs.

Tick tock went the clock into the silence that surrounded him..

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June 22, 2010 Post Under Flash Fiction - Read More

Chor Bizarre

Chor Bizarre

“Antique English Clock. Made in England. Very old, very antique…. Le Lo Le lo…”

Mark was always enchanted with that centuries old looking wall clock. No matter how many times he came to Chor Bazaar he always made it a point to go to that lane with the shop selling stolen antiques.

It surprised him that no one ever took interest in that clock which looked like the ones you could see on a station in London.

It would go so well with the theme of his newly renovated plush flat at Marine Drive.

Mark had been in India for almost 6 years now, and had made quite a successful living with his art galleries. He could buy any Vintage furniture he wanted, but his heart always wavered to that antique English Clock.

Concentrate Mark, you don’t require this; you are here for Nike shoes, and a Leather jacket for Loraine.

He quickly found the shop he was looking for, bought a pair of Nike sneakers which the shopkeeper claimed were fresh maal (Meaning just stolen from someone who paid four thousand Rupees for) and a brown leather jacket for his sister back home.

He left the narrow lanes of Chor Bazaar in a hurry lest his heart flutter back to that stupid clock.

“You know Mark I love your new house, you’ve done it so well” Jacob his partner told him the same night when they were chilling over a couple of drinks.

“Thanks Jake, Cheers to that”

“But you know what is missing from this? You need a nice Antique looking wall clock in this corner here. Wouldn’t it look grand, don’t u think? “

“You know what I’ll do, I’ll talk to my antique furniture guy at Bandra tomorrow and get you a good deal on one of those Victorian style Clocks that he has. Or even better I’ll give it to you as a house warming gift. How’s that huh?”

“Hey now c’mon Jake, you don’t have to gift me anything, and besides I think I know the perfect clock that will fit in to this corner” This had to be a good sign, a sign that he should just go and buy that Antique Clock.

“Its fifteen thousand rupees saab” said the guy at the crammed antique store.

“You think I’m crazy to pay that much for this, go call Raja I want to talk him, not you”

Raja walked in from the inner room. “You plan to make me bankrupt Raja?

Saab he’s quoting very less for you, this is classic 18th century clock stolen from England, it’s priceless Raja said in his heavy accented English.

“Oh ya? So you mean to say you have this watch from the 18th century in this little shop of yours? And that no one has ever tried to show interest in it?”

“Well saab, I no lie to you, this watch has been in our family since generations. My Great Grandfather got it from this English guy with hat and umbrella, and he said it was a very special clock, and you should only give it to right person”

“What is so special about it?”

“The Englishman claims that if you listen carefully you can here many voices from the Clock which would reveal your future. I tell you saab we have been hearing from generations but not a single word. I give it to you because you from England and you look like noble man. The watch must want to come to you”

“Yeah well whatever, here’s 12 thousand, get it delivered to my address here by noon today”

Although Mark pooh-poohed the story that Raja had told him, but deep down he felt a certain connection to the Clock too, or else why would he keep coming back to it?

That night Mark dozed off on his comfy leather sofa, when at midnight the clocked chimed 12 times, and he woke up with a start. Realizing that it was only his newest possession he got up to go to his bedroom, when suddenly there was this buzzing noise.

It was like hundreds of people were talking at the same time, like it was a railway station. Mark put both his hands on his ears and the voices stopped. He carefully removed his hands again, and he could still hear them.

He frantically checked all his rooms for any TV or stereo that must have been left running, but there was nothing. The voices were getting louder. Mark ran to his bedroom locked the door put two pillows on his head and went off to sleep.

The next morning he went on with his usual chores forgetting all that had happened the last night.

The voices came again the next night. Mark thought he was going crazy. He could not sleep for a week, when he decided to go back to Raja and ask for an explanation.

“You say you here voices saab? You must come inside and meet my grandfather; he will be able to explain”

Raja’s grandfather looked like he was a 100 years old, with a long beard, and a wrinkly frail body. Raja quickly explained him the situation in Hindi when his grandfather opened his eyes wide and looked at Mark

Jo kehete hai karo. Suno

“He means you should listen carefully to the voices, they are your ancestors, and you should do what they say”

Mark went home confused and scared. That night he made himself a huge mug of black coffee and decided to get this madness over with.

Promptly at midnight the voices came back. Mark strained his ears and tried to single out one voice. There was one which was the loudest.

From what mark could here, it just kept on saying, “Silver Chalice at Cindy Mason’s grave”

The next day mark called his dad and enquired about his ancestors and whether there was any Cindy Mason in their family. It turned out that there was, and surprisingly she was buried in India, in Mumbai for that matter.

Mark was shocked. How could this watch be anywhere related to his family, his ancestors? Nevertheless he took Raja’s grandfathers’ advice and started looking up all the cemeteries around the city.

Finally he found the one, and found Cindy Mason’s Tombstone which said, Cindy Mason January 1878 to October 1935. So she died during the English regime in India. That was interesting.

The next day Mark bought two huge silver chalices, bought off from Jakes Antique dealer in Bandra, since he thought that would make her happy, and hid them in the mud near the Tombstone.

The voices stopped troubling him from the same night.

“Antique English Clock. Made in England. Very old, very antique…. Le Lo Le lo…” Raja was shouting at the top of his voice.

“Psst Raja, these Chalices are awesome we could easily get 15 thousand for them. But next time you ask for something more expensive ok?”

“Yeah yeah”

Chote the assistant chuckled heartily, and continued with his usual work.

“Antique English Clock. Made in England. Very old, very antique…. Le Lo Le lo…”

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June 17, 2010 Post Under Flash Fiction - Read More
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Prompt#6

Prompt#6

Current prompt till 1st of July is:

(Photo Credits: Kirti Manian)

We are running low on shedding some comment love to each other. As writers we all know, its what we feed on. So please, don’t be shy to make new friends.

Also, please check if you’ve updated your profile with your personal blog link. It’ll help someone interested in reading more of your work to reach there.

Oh, and look out for some guest appearances and prizes being thrown away next month. Think Plum Blossoms…Think Paris. :)

If you’re new here and want to post your take on the prompt: Please Go to the side panel to register to the site. Once you’ve registered, you are officially an author for this site.

You’ll see a dashboard where you can create/edit your posts on the site. You can also edit your profile there.Welcome to the party!

To know more about what do we and do and why are we here, please go through: http://www.flashfiction.in/2010/03/22/a-new-hope/

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June 16, 2010rss Post Under Announcements - Read More

Cup-cakes

Cup-cakes

Cup-cakes

 

Posts on this prompt:

An episodic moment of madness on a quiet neighborhood street by Dreampersona

Ah those cupcakes.. by Kits

Pink by joaquin

Sweet Deal by Aniket

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June 15, 2010 Post Under Featured - Read More
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