Short short stories

We all are storytellers in our own right.

You don’t believe me? Well, if you ever made excuses for not going to a boring family get together, weaseled  your way out of paying a fine for breaking a signal and made these excuses sound as convincing as the truth or narrated a funny incident at a party that had everyone in splits, then you are a storyteller!

You don’t have to write pages and pages of a book to become a storyteller. You can create a story that could be as engaging and riveting as a best-selling novel …… in one line. Such stories that start and end in a blink of an eye are called flash fiction. Another name for it is ‘short short story’.

It could be a six word story, a twitterature (140 character story), dribble (50 words story), drabble (100 words story) or micro fiction (told in 300 words or less). The beauty of flash fiction is its ability to tell an intriguing story without compromising on its quality in spite of its brevity. Such is its power that it can make you gasp in disbelief, roll with laughter or sometimes make your blood run cold.

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I believe that there is beauty in brevity and therefore as a tribute to the awesomeness of flash fiction, I have attempted to write a short short story. Hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it 🙂

A NEW LIFE                                                                                                                                  

I stood in the centre of the room. Waiting.  His face was a mask of determination and deep concentration. He was as silent as a statue- his normally animated face devoid of any emotion, but his eyes depicted his patience and unwavering faith.  Suddenly he broke into a triumphant smile and stood back to gaze at me with pure love in his eyes. His singular touch gave me life. I felt electricity and power rushing into every single part of my body as I whirred to life. Our wait of 3 years was finally over.

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Here’s another one…

A DECISION WAS MADE…

The smell of dust and stale air greeted me at the threshold. Faded colour and fine cracks lined the walls like the wrinkles of an old woman who had aged with grace. A little Picasso had left his creations in the corners of rooms and passageways. A tinkling sound drew me to the window where a rusted unicorn and a tangle of stars clinked in the merry breeze.  It looked just like a window to dreams. I felt an inexplicable feeling, like I had found the elusive missing piece to a puzzle. It fit.  A place where happy memories could be made. The fatigue from a frantic hunt for peace floated away. Love bloomed in my heart. A tiny voice said yes, this is HOME.

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