Lost between Dhaka and a Beardo

Here’s a 250-word narrative flash-fiction of a girl named “Amanda Creek” who’s lost her way in the city of Dhaka. Without further Bengali ado, I present to you…a lost Amanda.

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Mon Hates Drinks

Here’s a story written in response to this prompt. I will refer to Drink Guy as D

D: Holler! Holler!

Mon: -Looks-

D: I wish to tell you a shakrat

Mon:-Gawks-

D: The Sakreat to life…

Mon: There’s a nice chair over there. Why don’t you sit on the chair? OK, don’t come closer.

(D looks around and shuffles randomly to a pile of hay. He falls on it abruptly and sits there.)

D: The secret to life..

Mon:-squints at drunk guy-

D: .is to breathe.

Mon: Thanks..I…uh. Should’ve know that.

D: I am going to kill your mother-in-law, too.

Mon: Oh.

D: -Squints at Mon-


Something kind of like this happened. I was walking down the street when this guy steps in front of me. He says, “I am going to kill your mother in law,” and shuffles away. Yeah….fun.

Image by Paul Militaru

This will be my Title.

Written inn response to David’s 5-Word-Challenge

The magic words here are in bold. This took me almost two hours 😥 Don’t you guys like the name Mokless? 😀

Please give me advice on how to make this better *begs*

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They sang their bangla song to Radio Furti as they lived on the illusion that life would do all their work for them. Everything would be taken care of. Just be living and let live. If life hands lemons, life can make their own darn lemonades; at what fu*king point in time did life actually give lemons? Plants give lemons. They do….right? Mokless squeezed his eye brows as he thought deeply.

Under the turquoise-blue sky, a deep, dark glow gently smiled on the side of the heads (with the other side being a dark grey glow) and faces of the siblings as they drove on. His Sister, of course, sat in the back because of “BOphobia”, as Mokless liked calling it. Continue reading

Continuing the Story…..

Here is a story from The Finicky Cynic with my Veracity Challenge 😀

The king frowned.

“I am not sure what you mean, but by all means go ahead with your defense.”

“Will do.” The man bowed.

“These men do not deserve the death penalty. What had happened that night was not their fault. They cannot hear; they could not hear the screams of the people inside the tavern burned by the fire. These people were on their way to church, miles from the disaster. How could they have known? How could they have wished for forgiveness? How could they have pardoned their sins for something they did not hear? Acquit them, my Lord. Acquit them from their punishment.”

The king listened, stroking his beard. Then, he made his decision…

And now…my turn! 😀

“They shall not be forgiven,” the king scoffed. “For they had not attended my 30-second dance party!” The man looked around at the people who were about to be punished. “How could they miss my party?” the kind teared up. “Sorry, your highness, but we needed to go to the church” one among the convicted men cleared his throat, it was too shaky from what the king had just claimed.

“Your highness, we had to go to Church! For we are Christians. But also, we couldn’t hear the cries from the disaster!”

The kind sighed and stroked his beard. “What’s a church?”

“It’s like your mosque sir,” his advisor of loyalty (Mon’s note: Couldn’t say “loyal” 😥 ) said, “Where you go to pray but Christians go to the Church”.

“Oh, I see. English is not my first language,” the king sighed again.

“Oh, but Sir, you have grown your vocabulary by a lot!”

“Yes, a lot your highness!” one of the the almost-was-to-be-punished men said.

“Really? You people think so?”

“Indeed, you highness,” the loyalty (Mon’s note: Too late :P) advisor said as he curbed himself from patting the king’s head. The shininess radiating from all the skin of his king’s head.

“This calls for a 30-second dance party! Everyone let’s dance, where my Royalty-DJs at?”

And then everyone danced and no one was jailed or anything.

The end….. 😀

Yeah. Sorry this was a bit sucky 😛 (A bit Mon? Really?) I had to do this quickly and didn’t draft or anything 😮 LOL! No, I am not being modest xD I know, this is so…good? LOL!  This is crappy xD I did my best (That’s a lie) and I have to go now *runs away for wasting your time*

I am not going to nominate or post the rules right now because…I don’t know, it’s my challenge 😛 But if anyone wants to join, the steps are here!

Flash Fiction: Age

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Dog Named Bob.”

“Roof! Roof!”

I opened one eye and checked the clock. I slept the whole day. Damn it.

I have to check the mailbox; the mail from my daughter probably didn’t get here. But I have to check in case she remembered her old folks. Kids……they don’t have to do write letters anymore. You just get a text message and…Well…There ain’t no connection between people. A hand-written letter, with ink and not binary codes or whatever sciency things they call it, speaks more than a “Yo, guys, it’s raining” Facebook status. Continue reading