Attention

"And then I said that I couldn't possibly finish by Friday…are you listening to me Akash?" "What? Yes of course. So what happened then?" "…I don't think you even know what I'm talking about. And this isn't even the first time. What's going on?" "Oh God don't turn this into a thing. I was listening. You told your boss you couldn't possibly finish by Friday." "Not my boss. I told my mother that." "What? How is that even logical…stop looking at me like that. Stop it! I was listening." "Cheque please. Let's just leave." "What?? We have tickets to a movie." "I'm not in the mood. You want to go try and sell them?" "No! Will you stop making a big deal of nothing? I. Was. Listening." "That tree outside was listening more than you were. Goodbye Akash." "Even a tree wouldn't listen to you! Your stories are that boring! God." #shortstory #instastory #fiction #breakup #fight #listen #tree #listeningtree

A post shared by La Fictionista (@dailytale) on Jul 27, 2016 at 3:11am PDT

Blooming

It had been a beautiful morning. Till right now. She stared at the #plumeria #bloom nodding in the breeze. Her coffee sat half-sipped on the side. She wanted to rip the #plant to shreds. Because he'd planted it. How he'd remembered she didn't know. Amidst all the forgotten birthdays, anniversaries, pick ups, urgent requests, the begging, the pleading, the sullen silences and the angry chasms. He'd remembered to plant the plumeria. When she walked out, she'd told him that she was sure he'd forget her leaving, mired in his work as he was. Now, she looked at the #flower and hated that hope stirred in her. #instastory #shortstory #fiction #couples #love #loss

A post shared by La Fictionista (@dailytale) on Jun 28, 2016 at 8:46am PDT

Opposites

She'd left the drapes open again. He sighed, very quietly. It always amazed him that she could sleep through anything – light, sound, earthquakes. He needed total silence and darkness. Sometimes he wondered if this reflection of their personalities was a reflection on them. She needed people and confetti and music. He craved austerity and solitude. And yet, they couldn't sleep apart. He turned his head and saw that she was up, tiptoeing to the window to pull the drapes together. He smiled. #shortstory #instastory #fiction #love #happilyeverafter #sunrise

A post shared by La Fictionista (@dailytale) on May 23, 2016 at 3:16am PDT

Mourning

She took a deep breath and sat on the grave. She missed it…this crisp air. It was the bane of her existence here. It made her sick and cough. And it made her bones hurt. But every few months, she craved this air. This coldness, the way it sneaked into her lungs. She'd birthed children and buried her husband here. She was born in this air. And she'd die in it. Or because of it. Then she'd be buried next to her husband. The only difference would be that she would actually be dead when she went into the coffin. #shortstory #instastory #fiction #death #murder

A post shared by La Fictionista (@dailytale) on May 11, 2016 at 1:17am PDT

Pause

It snowed for four days straight. The entire city was shut. Even the TV wasn't working. On the fifth day, he woke up and looked outside. The flakes floated past the window and he came to a decision. He strode through the house to the living where she sat. And said, "Maybe we don't have to split up. Maybe this snow is a sign. Do you want to give this another shot?" She opened her mouth. And realised she didn't know what to say. At that moment, it stopped snowing. #shortstory #instastory #fiction #snow #fate #winter

A post shared by La Fictionista (@dailytale) on May 10, 2016 at 11:15am PDT

Colour scheme

Colour colour which colour do you choose? Red for passion, after three months of nothing? Orange for cuddling which has become even rarer than passion? Blue for my mood after finding a text message that says "love you. H" on his phone? Yellow because he's a dirty fellow? Wine to match my companion, the goblet, till he walks in at 11 PM, and says he was at work? Or white, to match the mourning robes I must soon wear because love has died? #shortstory #instastory #fiction #nails #love #divorce

A post shared by La Fictionista (@dailytale) on Apr 27, 2016 at 10:56pm PDT

Journey part 2

Part I. "Any baggage sir?" He'd smiled faintly before shaking his head. As he sat down in his seat, he thought of the tiring day before him. And the tiring night that was to follow. He now yearned for the the nights when his wife was not speaking to him…they were the most peaceful times of the month. He was stuck. Mired in a spiral of fights, sullen silences and disgust. He could divorce her. But then he'd be alone. And that seemed more unbearable, strangely. He contented himself with running away as much as possible…as frequently as possible. #shortstory #instastory #fiction #journey #quicksand

A post shared by La Fictionista (@dailytale) on Apr 24, 2016 at 10:20pm PDT