The Hanging of the God #FlashFiction (Day 3)

 

The Hanging of the God

Shavik stood on the dais raised at the center of Hangman’s Square, where he was to be hanged momentarily, and felt a tension rising in the air.

The tension was twofold.

One, of the ruling aristocrats, seated at the front row and the high seats, who longed for the execution to go down swiftly. Two, of the common folks, who had gathered around the square to be with their messiah in his final moments, praying for a miracle.

Dark clouds had gathered up above, as the square began to fill up with more and more of these common folks. People who had long lost interest in any cause but their own daily survival. Who had seen enough disappointments to have forgotten what it even felt like to hope.

Shavik was God to them, and their final hope of salvation from the Extremist Regime. And even now, Shavik could see it in their eyes, they were convinced that he could not be killed. He could tell they were here expecting a miracle.

And therein lied the problem.

Shavik was no God. He could fight with them, but if he continued to fight for them, alone, as their messiah, the cause was going nowhere. He could not win alone, and he could not get the people to fight to win, with their hopes resting upon some miracle from a false God.

They had to know that their backs were against the wall, and no one to save them but themselves. For the real rebellion to rise, the false God had to fall.

As the first drop of rain hit the earth, Shavik smiled at the real Gods above, if such a thing even existed. This was perfect.

“This is where I bid you farewell,” Shavik cried out. “For long, you have considered me your God. But in the next few moments you shall find it to be utterly untrue.”

A wave of laughter hit him, coming from the aristocrats seated at the front row.

“And as you open your eyes to this truth, I want you to realize, that it was one common man, of flesh and blood, as you all, who shook the Extremist Regime to its very core.” He spat. “Now as you make note of that, I want each one of you to ask yourself a question.”

He saw the aristocrats leaning in. “Ask: what if instead of one man, there had been thousands? What if I had all of you beside me at the March of Silence?

“Enough!” someone screamed. “Pull the handle.”

“But do not despair for this is not the end,” Shavik shouted.

The rope came around his neck, and the crowd erupted in one unified voice of complain.

“Today, as one Shavik falls,” he screamed above the crowd, “a thousand more will rise among you!”

Then the bloody floor gave away. Amidst the roars and jeers of the crowd, the loudest noise Shavik heard was a sharp creak of his own neck.

 

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Daddy Knows Best (Flash Fiction – Day 2, #FF2)

 

Daddy Knows Best

“Look, mommy! Look what I drew?” Little Naomi pushed the drawing pad at her mother’s face.

“Ah…” Sara’s expression turned from feigned enthusiasm to genuine disgust. “Uh. And just what in God’s name is that?”

“Not God, mommy. It’s the Devil!”

“Goodness, girl,” she let out an exasperated sigh. “What should I ever do with your fascination with demons?”

“Not demons, mommy.” She looked disappointed. “The Devil.”

“And now you’re getting technical at it.”

“I don’t think you like my art.”

“Oh, no, baby.” She dropped to her knee and hugged her little girl. “I do admire your… drawings. It’s just—” She clasped her hands. “Couldn’t you draw dragons or something? Or the Warrior Princess! You love that show, right? Why not draw her?

“Because she is lame. She always needs help from that stupid Sir Knight. She’s weak. I love the show but I hate her, mommy.” She stomped her foot, perhaps just so Sara would get her hatred right.

She watched, unblinking.

“You know what’s not lame?” The little girl’s eyes lightened up.

And Sara already knew the answer. “The Devil, darling,” she sighed. “The Devil is so not-lame.”

“That’s right, mommy!” She embraced her mother tightly, and skittered away outside the room, shutting the door behind her.

And there he stood, behind the shut door, looming large in his dark suit, smoky eyes and proud smug, smiling contently at Sara.

“What a time to drop by,” she said.

“You know I’m always around,” he said, voice deep and calm. He held his stare at her, hands resting behind his back.

“What?” she spat.

“Say it.”

“There’s nothing to say. You poisoned her thoughts, that’s it.”

“You’re accusing me of dishonoring my deal? Careful, now.” He stopped smiling. “You know I get touchy about these matters.”

Sara narrowed her eyes, anger boiling up right through her gut.

But then she swallowed it all down. “Alright, alright. I loose, okay?”

“Say them proper, babe,” he teased, almost in a sing-song way.

“I lost the bet, Lu. I took her out of Hell, but couldn’t take the Hell out of her. Our daughter is her father’s girl, after all. There. Happy?” She took a step. “Now can we finally leave this weakling world? Just take us home.”

“Told you, babe,” he laughed, offering Sara a hand. “Daddy knows best.”

###

A little suggestion, please? Do you think it’d have been better if the title was “The Bet”?  Would it add something or does it not matter at all? Thanks! 🙂

#FlashFiction #FF1 (360 words)

 

Made for Each Other

Jiten placed his tongue on the gap left by his missing front tooth and tasted salty blood. He spit it out on the sink and looked up in the mirror at his dark eye patch, his sore lips, and torn cheek. He was a mess alright.

The sad part was he couldn’t quite remember what exactly it was that set off the bloody fight, despite his resolve and desperation to let nothing ruin his plans for the evening.

He watched the clock. 7 pm.

Great. Not only beaten up, but late as well.

He closed his eyes and and exhaled a long breath. He looked back up in the mirror and straightened his tie and his suit. Then gave his gelled hair a slight push behind the ears. Beside his missing tooth, and squashed face, he didn’t look so bad.

“Stay cool. Stay cool. You’re okay,” he spoke to the mirror, then turning away, “Yes. Just say you fell off the stairs or something.”

When he entered the front door of La’ Mirch, a wave of awkward stares welcomed him. He suddenly felt conscious. He must have looked like a carnival showpiece. All buttoned up and sleek but bearing an amusing physical anomaly.

He scanned among the rows of tables and found Number Five.

Kavitha sat there, at one of the two chairs, looking away from the door. It was his first date — in fact, the first time ever he was meeting this girl in person — but he could tell it was her, even from behind, from her carefree, uneven haircut he had come to adore from her profile picture.

“Hi, Kavitha,” he said, walking round her back, cursing the heaviness of his lip and his lack of self-restrain in fighting for a cause that he couldn’t even remember anymore. “Sorry, I had a bit of—”

He stopped short, blinking hard. The girl before him, oh it was Kavitha alright, sat with two dark patch under her eyes, swollen lips, taped cheek and an awkwardly bent nose.

“What the hell happened?”

“I, uh… I fell off the stairs.” She watched him with curious, swollen eyes. “And you?”

I

I

###

“I”.
A boy
A man
A son
A brother
A friend
A student
An employee
But at the very beginning
Before I was anything…
I was.
I just ‘was’.
a being with the sole purpose of being
The one who knew nothing
And the wisest thing I’ve ever been

###

Apocalypse #digitalart #poetry

Night will be over and morning will come,
The sun will rise, the lotus will open.
While the bee trapped inside was thinking such,
An elephant came along and stomped it up.

#apocalypse #micropoetry

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Yin Yang Sci-Fi!

duality

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Would we crave for light the way we do

If there never was a moment dark?

 

And would we be happy the same way

If we didn’t know what it meant to be sad?

 

Questions exist to be answered

Complications are there to be solved

 

Challenges arise to be conquered

Failures are there to be won

 

One exists to give other the life

The duality prevails to keep things whole

 

The Yin Yang of life is beautifully simple

Yet the Yin Yang remains unknown

 

***

This poetry was one my earlier posts, titled The Duality of Life, the inspiration for which came from the immortal words of Lao Tzu in “Tao Te Ching”.

 

There is a world #digitalart

flat landscape

there is a world

quite not like ours

there is a place

that provokes our wildest imaginations

where dawn breaks with a birdsong

and rainbows smile with a million colors

dreamland

promised land

it has many names

yes, there is a world

or so I have heard

but I’d like to be there someday

someday

SOME day

let’s hope it’s worth all the wait

 .