That’s Life Anyway! [Friday Fictioneers, Anniversary]

For Writers: It’s another week and particularly, a week in which this blog turns a year old (according to WordPress’ calculations. It was actually publicized in February upon my chanced discovery of Friday Fictioneers). Many thanks to all Fictioneers who had encouraged me to keep on keeping on. Those who encouraged my voice, my style and little efforts.

Here is a brief narration, I hope it strikes home…but, please, let me know how it pans out. I actually feel jittery with narrations. Thank you!

For Readers: Many thanks for making it here, too. You’re welcome to the gang any day and anytime. This week, it’s the sixth for our new host and well, a bonus picture of 41-years ago [Happy Anniversary Rochelle!!!] is on her blog this week click here>>> Rochellewisofffields.

Funny, I learnt they kissed differently back then. Click and spy its free and you don’t have to feel like a Voyeur. Tell me what the difference is, in kissing that is!!!


We had started by sinking the fence of independence.

I pored over her every action and move.

‘You’re becoming too demanding’ she spouted the other day

And with that we drifted back to our individualness, to being occupied with the lust for one’s own company.

Again,“you’re too withdrawn these days”

I smiled; hat swayed gingerly on, and I took a walk.

I waited all year long trailing for a sign of her infidelity, but on the eve of Christmas I found her as lonely as me through my binoculars. Yet, I still crave my company more than hers.

A Promise…(Friday Fictioneers)


For Writers: I gladly made it to the Fictioneers’ cafe this week again. Really happy to offer this piece and would love a criticism of the effort this time from you all.

For Readers: If your guts is daring you to pick a pen, please let us host your thoughts on this platform >>> Click HERE


He had told me, of a promise if only I knew the time. I had kept watch by his bed for hundred days.

The porter met me on my way to the grocery

‘Your master departs in moments’

I ran out my breath to his house; if I make it to his last breath, I shall sniff of it to replenish mine.

At the gate, his embossed face, now scowls at me and a hand points eastward…

There a mass for his journey is being said.

But his face on the gate growls pitifully!