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Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2020
Submitted to Contest #52
10:45 amSoftware Firm, Twenty-fourth floor,Torre Eurosky, Rome,Italy.For the first time in my life, I breathed a sigh of relief. Life as a software developer was very hectic. My workplace had never expanded beyond a couple of square feet; it was restricted within plywood walls and contained a timber desk and a soft, leathery chair (a cubicle, to be exact). I was given an outmoded computer with separate monitor, keyboard and a box-like vociferous CPU that made a maddening, rattling sound. The only thing I could flawlessly do was type some gib...
Submitted to Contest #50
Tick tock!Tick tock!The clock ticks inaudibly as the sky of the frigid December night paints itself with a peculiar greyish color of the moonlight. You take out your cellphone and gape at the message that pops up on your mobile screen.Ting, ting! You click on it. Tap!The message crops up briskly, covering the screen from the topmost notch to the bottommost circular home-button of your mobile.Swoop!You read the text message in silence. It says‘Hotel Hyatt Regency, Room 404. Meet...
The unmistakable piece of Mozart's 'Piano Concerto No.21 K467' escalated throughout the hall leisurely. Even though having the music played at a snail's pace, it had the power to frantically speak the rare emotions and sentiments of one's heart. The music was extraordinary, which undoubtedly inspired a profound passion for both players and listeners. The music itself was so phenomenal that it made me spellbound as it produced choral vibes within me while running my fingers through the keys. However, the flow was disrupted as I miss...
Submitted to Contest #48
You put on the light and illuminate the view-box. The transparent plastic-like-paper film displays some radio-opaque and radio-lucent shadows. You observe the film very meticulously fathoming the urgency of the case. You press the electronic-buzzer immediately that lies underneath your desk and call the on-duty medical officer, in order to prepare the patient for surgery.An elder man, in his mid-fifties, hailing from a remote village of Kailali, presents to the emergency ward with an open distal tibia fracture on his left foot, with a histor...
Submitted to Contest #47
You look at yourself in the mirror, which lies just an inch away from the ticket-counter. You are in good shape. You notice your black, rumpled hair all covered in tiny, whitish flakes of your scalp's epithelium. Some might say dandruff, but you despise that word. You stroke your beard, relentlessly with your left hand, to give an impression as if you're pondering the reason behind your hairy look. You know shaving would have killed your masculinity, so you don't snip it. Instead, you keep it all shaggy and messy as it successfully hides you...
Submitted to Contest #46
"Poetry is like pliable clay that can be molded into numerous shapes and figures. Our literature defines poetry as a multidimensional cluster of Kshastriya letters and syllables, each phonetic unit playing a vital role in shaping the poem and its core meaning.""Can you please elaborate the importance of Chhanda in an aesthetic Sanskrit poem?" asks one of the lads."It will be easier for you to comprehend if you consider Chhanda as a well-pitched road and all the vowels and consonants as the vehicle speeding on it. If you want to compose a goo...
Submitted to Contest #44
Present Day"Enough is enough! I can't do this anymore!""But why, is it because of me and my ugly body?""No!!! I just can't bear you, Anthony. I just can't!"A moment of eerie silence intensifies with a mixture of grief and anger. That was when Anthony, with his bleeding heart, bids goodbye to his love forever. "But Ileana, I love you…I didn't mean it. Please understand!""No!!! I don't want to stay in this toxic relationship where you take my love for granted! I don't want it!""But, listen to me…""I don't want to listen to anything you have to...
Shortlisted for Contest #43 ⭐️
Babu moshai!That’s what my Baba used to call me. As far as I can reminisce, I was called upon by numerous nicknames, but somehow I always knew those slew of names didn’t have a robust meaning. Babu moshai was meticulous, a two-syllable word that adumbrated a complex Sanskrit phonetic. Baba wasn’t much into the Vedic literature, but his prosaic artistry was unfathomable. Contrarily, Aama loathed the name babu moshai. She was cocksure that the name had a diabolical derivation and always ended...
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