This post is published as an entry for the KING AND QUEEN OF 55F CONTEST – The first ever unique, challenge for the coveted title in micro fiction category. To catch the crowning moments and also be part of future editions and other contests, visit and register at Cafe GingerChai
Rules of the contest:
- You have to write a set of three 55F.
- The first two sets should be a story on its own.
- The two stories should climax / conclude / inter-twine in the third set of 55F.
- The story could be of any genre i.e, love, crime, mystery or thriller etc.
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He lay sprawled in usual drunken stupor. She stared unseeingly at the tea boiling in the pan. Fifteen years of abuse flashed before her. Last night however, he had stooped too low.
‘Bloody pimp’, she swore, but smiled harshly.
She did not need him anymore! A cup of tea (and some poison, perhaps) would suffice.
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Sunlight momentarily blinded her. She picked up her torn dupatta, wound it tightly around her bruised shoulders, and entered Amma’s kitchen.
Their eyes met. Cold, vacant, almost chilling.
The young girl lowered her gaze. Ashamed.
‘Go now. Wash yourself. Come fresh and clean, for tea’
‘Clean? I’ll never be clean again…’ hot tears rolled, unrestrained.
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Laila scrubbed herself until her skin burned.
‘Beauty!’, father’s ‘friend’ had grunted as he ravaged her last night.
Amma had been livid. Until, she had seen the money.
‘Drink!!!’
Trembling, Laila brought the scalding tea to her lips.
A bitter smile. A quick flick of the wrist.
‘Splash!’
The cup of tea had indeed sufficed!
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Writer-z-block 