Sangeetha Kamath

  "What did you do all day!”,the floor is cluttered, grimy; you missed a spot there! Just look at your dowdy dress, unkempt messy bun! The dinner is tasteless as usual I'd rather eat sawdust, he apathetically drones From Monday to Sunday 'twas the same swan song…”What did you do all day!” She came to believe she did nothing at all She wanted the baby to stop howling  Exhausted, she wished her day had more than twenty-four hours… Come Autumn, Winter, Spring and Summer Everyday seems dismal; gloom and a failure “What did you do all day!”  'Twas the monotonous anthem, chorus and murmur Seasons come and go without a hush and whisper Vibrant spring is around, but her skies are ashen grey! Her eyes brim over, is nothing good enough any day…? “What did you do all day?” is all he can ever say! Patience sapped, she stomped her foot down one glorious day! Mustering every ounce of pent up rage Her hollering riposte left him petrified, forever in daze! Never did he dare say again...

On the edge of a thicket, grow wild roses of the rarest damask hue Glowing amethysts on olive green bushes when drenched in crystal clear dew The aromatic rosebuds clammed close are nestled in my diary and tomes Concealing whispers of gossip, passwords and also secret codes Nostalgia of forgotten songs revive along with faded, distant dreams,  When a whiff of the musty parchment and old ink glides in like a toasty sunbeam Blossoms of bluebells and petals of peonies  Adorn my journals with their withered, silken petals of lilac veins Sprigs of laurel and rose-tinted orchids with their satin skeins Envelop a scent of dewdrops, holding  promises of lavender refrains  Stalks of mossy green remind me of wildflower meadows The long walks in the Alps and valleys below My poems waltz on these papers when I'm in seventh heaven or on cloud nine Unbidden, melancholic tunes in my heart spill forth when I'm blue and not feeling fine When chimes ring from the conifers and  d...

Prompt: In 500 words, write a story you always wanted to. No genre constraints. Pull the rug with the last line such that it changes the entire context of your story. ***** Plodding through the ankle deep snow in the fading light, Zoe couldn't wait to get indoors. The street leading to the colony was deserted and the neighboring houses were empty as everyone was away for the holidays.  The shadows cast by the streetlights looked unusually eerie in the icy silence. A slight ruffle in the breeze made her jump out of her skin! As she turned her head warily, a flier fluttering on the lamppost outside the house caught her attention. Zoe ripped it off to have a closer look and her eyes widened.   Serial killer at large! Extra caution for girls especially if you're a redhead residing in and around Lyndale District. Report to the nearest police station if sighted.  A familiar face, the same one doing the rounds on primetime on this sensational news was now on fliers. These...