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Out of Ordinary - A Flash Fiction

At half-past 2 a.m, Jen woke up and stumbled into her own bed. Normally Bruce came crawling into her bed at dawn, falling asleep beside her for a few hours. But this morning her bed was empty. She thought of food, before looking for Bruce. A remainder, her body worked hard, as she slept through the night. She heard a distant sound of his voice, a sound of cry broke out. Jen raced towards the garden where she was startled, to see Bruce had hurt his tiny fingers, trying to plant new saplings like her dad did, while he had visited them.

She realized, how helpful it was to have her dad around. Bruce spent time with her dad outdoors, playing in the garden and splashing water from the bucket, or searching for worms underneath as her dad dug up soil for planting. With someone to keep Bruce engaged until dusk, let her a lot of time to be alone. The me-time she longed since she had Bruce and with her husband traveling most of the time it was a far fetched dream.

A Phone Call - A Flash Fiction

Photo by Can Ahtam on Unsplash

The phone rang piercing through the stillness of the first flush of morning. Justin arises from the bed with a sudden pounding in his heart as his phone rings.

He knew it was his father before answering the call; there was no one else who would have called him before nine. He has not spoken to his father in several weeks. He was visiting his parents, his paternal grandparents back in Eswatini.

As he answered the phone, it left him scandalized and the phone hanging by the cord. He did not expect his dad to break such a piece of news to him. Justin’s thoughts take him down the memory lane to his mother’s loving memories. The wish for her to be here fills him with such rage and bitterness that his brain could explode. His dad called to tell him, he has a stepmother and a stepbrother who was about ten, fourteen years younger to him.

Magic. I'm aboard - A unique perspective on creativity

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Let me talk about magic in this creative world of writing, I have devoted almost my entire lifetime.

To begin with, the idea established itself in my head while I was occupied re-reading Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert.

Each time I read that book, I find some new thought transcending, a divine feeling towards creativity and commitment it calls for. Surreal energy making me write and motive me to continue on this path. Ideas too, have an energy and a will, to manifest, so they travel. They travel and pay visits to humans, who could manifest them as actual.

According to Ruth Stone —
“Ideas are entering and exiting the human consciousness at whim”

I experienced an idea knocking at my door, waiting to be manifested, and left empty-handed!

Allow me to explain.

As I was scanning through Medium on a gloomy Wednesday morning, I stumbled upon a published article, an idea, which had knocked on my door about 8–9 months ago. Maybe as Liz says in the book, the idea waits only for a certain time, and if you don’t welcome it, it will find someone else to come alive.
I have believed in magic and ideas inspiring the writers or others who have set out their creative journey. But this has been the closest encounter of Magic for me!

An article, by Shaunta Grimes, also states, how important it is to stay available, letting your creative juices flowing, welcoming the ideas which need to be brought to life!

Ergo, stay put, make yourself available for ideas to come your way, build your ideas before it jumps out of your window into a new home.

©Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Originally published in a Few Words.

Enchanted

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

John my uncle was getting more impatient, my aunt Lucy more peculiar, and me in love each day.

What shall we all be at this rate at the end of the coming year!

Upon enchanted by creative imagination, the new year embarked on her experience in the creative writing world.

©Shweta, 2020
Originally published in The Friday Fix

Nonet the Night - A poem

Photo by Simone Viani on Unsplash

When the darkness takes over silence

hinting a ray of light through moon

reminding us there is a

silver lining, showing

up, when days are dim

starless and grim

smile again —

there is

light!

Author's note: "Nonet the night” is attempting to write a nine-line poem following its syllabic form for each line describing the night or something about the night or an object enhanced by the night.