I was reading this story about flash fiction, and decided to try my hand at it.
So that's 155 words over the word limit. Obviously, there's a lot of dreck, and it's quite derivative, but still...
Gandhi Jayanti
Gandhi Jayanti, and my divorce is a year and a day old. I haven’t spoken to my wife since. My ex-wife, that is. I’m still getting used to that term. Now I live in a small apartment next to the Bangalore’s Malleswaram station, a lonely 42-year-old with a cat called Smithers to keep him company. Smithers is pure white, and is so well fed that he looks like a snowball.
My second floor window looks down on the rail tracks and the wilderness on either side. There are rat holes hidden in the undergrowth, and sometimes a snake makes its way into the apartment block. It doesn't affect me that much, though the Nairs on the ground floor have had to deal with the occasional rat snake. Sometimes I worry about Smithers, but not too much. His laziness is his protection.
My lane doesn't see much traffic, but this morning there was a small Tempo van, with the words "Apollo Hospital Emergency Medical Supplies" painted on the side. A man in grey was unloading a carton of "Ruchi Tea." He waved to me as I picked up my newspaper. Today is a dry day, and a holiday. I had stocked up with a bottle of Royal Stag whisky which I hit at about half past eight in the morning. The cook came and went. I ate, and drank some more. By around two the bottle was nearly empty and I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. I dozed.
I'm not sure when I woke - it may have been six - it may have been seven. It was not yet dark outside, but there was little light in the room. My drawing room is long and L-shaped with the bed and TV occupying the base of the L. Smither's den was at the top. And I could see Smithers, a fuzzy white blur in the darkness. I was still drunk - the smell of whisky hung heavy in my mouth - but I could see something moving on the floor. Something big.
It was a snake. Not a rat snake, but a python - a rock python, its dappled off-white body with brown markings making it just a series of sinuous movements against the floor tiles in the gloom. It was gliding unhurriedly towards Smithers - who was either frozen in fear or too lazy to move.
I just watched. I wasn't horrified or anything, just stuck in that state between sleep and wakefulness, not sure if I was dreaming. Then, Smithers tried to make a run for it, padding out of his corner. The snake moved, faster than I could think, and had wrapped himself around the cat.
I jumped out of bed - not sure of what I could do - but knowing I had to do something. But I was slow. The snake had released Smithers, and had somehow managed to tear him open like a melon. I could see the red of his insides as the snake rooted around. Pythons aren’t supposed to behave like this. They unhinged their jaws and swallowed their prey. They didn't disembowel them. I stared. The snake lifted its triangular head and looked back at me, incuriously.
"I taught him to do that, you know," someone said. I realized that there was another person in the room. It was a man in a grey t-shirt who had been sitting in the corner. He got up. I couldn't see his face, but he was short and stocky. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you were here," he said. "But it's all for the best. We feast tonight." He had a knife in one hand and a fork in another. When he smiled, his mouth was full of teeth.
(655 words)
My second floor window looks down on the rail tracks and the wilderness on either side. There are rat holes hidden in the undergrowth, and sometimes a snake makes its way into the apartment block. It doesn't affect me that much, though the Nairs on the ground floor have had to deal with the occasional rat snake. Sometimes I worry about Smithers, but not too much. His laziness is his protection.
My lane doesn't see much traffic, but this morning there was a small Tempo van, with the words "Apollo Hospital Emergency Medical Supplies" painted on the side. A man in grey was unloading a carton of "Ruchi Tea." He waved to me as I picked up my newspaper. Today is a dry day, and a holiday. I had stocked up with a bottle of Royal Stag whisky which I hit at about half past eight in the morning. The cook came and went. I ate, and drank some more. By around two the bottle was nearly empty and I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. I dozed.
I'm not sure when I woke - it may have been six - it may have been seven. It was not yet dark outside, but there was little light in the room. My drawing room is long and L-shaped with the bed and TV occupying the base of the L. Smither's den was at the top. And I could see Smithers, a fuzzy white blur in the darkness. I was still drunk - the smell of whisky hung heavy in my mouth - but I could see something moving on the floor. Something big.
It was a snake. Not a rat snake, but a python - a rock python, its dappled off-white body with brown markings making it just a series of sinuous movements against the floor tiles in the gloom. It was gliding unhurriedly towards Smithers - who was either frozen in fear or too lazy to move.
I just watched. I wasn't horrified or anything, just stuck in that state between sleep and wakefulness, not sure if I was dreaming. Then, Smithers tried to make a run for it, padding out of his corner. The snake moved, faster than I could think, and had wrapped himself around the cat.
I jumped out of bed - not sure of what I could do - but knowing I had to do something. But I was slow. The snake had released Smithers, and had somehow managed to tear him open like a melon. I could see the red of his insides as the snake rooted around. Pythons aren’t supposed to behave like this. They unhinged their jaws and swallowed their prey. They didn't disembowel them. I stared. The snake lifted its triangular head and looked back at me, incuriously.
"I taught him to do that, you know," someone said. I realized that there was another person in the room. It was a man in a grey t-shirt who had been sitting in the corner. He got up. I couldn't see his face, but he was short and stocky. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you were here," he said. "But it's all for the best. We feast tonight." He had a knife in one hand and a fork in another. When he smiled, his mouth was full of teeth.
(655 words)
So that's 155 words over the word limit. Obviously, there's a lot of dreck, and it's quite derivative, but still...