First Journey


First Journey

Oh! It’s all so scary. Save me God! Please. I can’t bear this ordeal. 
I am happy where I am. Why do they want to take me out?

Now they’re pulling my head with something. It hurts badly. Please let go!

They think they should help me. That I’m stuck inside, drenched in fluids and darkness all around me.

No!! I don’t ever feel sad in here. Never did. That’s my small home. Only mine. My mom’s womb. I feel very safe here. I get food. I feel warm and hugged.   

I again feel like crying. I fear so much. Where are they taking me? Such bright light! Strange sounds I can very faintly hear! What would it be like on the other end? Help me God! Don’t take me away from my mom! I will die. 

©Alka 2016

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Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers that is hosted by Priceless Joy, and inspired by this week’s above photo prompt.

It/he/she will not die, as that is what we call ‘life’.
Is this piece a bit exaggerated? Probably 🙂  Who knows what birthing bubs feel! May be some discomfort as their senses are not fully developed yet.

Mooing Colours – flash fiction


Mooing Colours
– two stories

Story 1:

It so happened that a graffiti artist lost his way into a remote village farm. The farm was lush and lovely, and so were the two robust farm cows.

Given his usual reckless creative urges, and given that he had not earned a penny since long, the artist offered to decorate the animals.

The farmer was thrilled. Usually he adorned his beloved pair with bells, flowers and colorful mats. Now this would be something modern. He was thrilled at this thought but still had doubts.

“Hope it will wash off?”

“Of course it will!”, the artist ensured him.

The cows were soon painted in multiple hues in all possible shapes. And thus over time, the bovine duo became the talk of the small town. Oblivious to their changed appearance, they went around grazing, only to be greeted by over-awed villagers. The farmer loved his popularity. He made sure he showed the beautiful pair around. Even the rich landowners seemed envious of him now, or so he thought.

Then something strange happened. The cow pair gave birth to a calf with skin as multi-coloured as can be. People come from far and wide to catch a glimpse of the little miracle.

One day the farmer decided he has had enough. He missed his original cows with their whitish-brown skin that would pulsate under his soft touch. But the colours refused to rub off.

In sheer desperation he hunted for the artist. Only he could help. But the artist had vanished into the same thin air where he came from. That’s because artists, like magicians, can create anything out of space and time, but they themselves are not defined by space or time. Only by their free will.

One day, when he had given up all hope, the farmer came back home to see his cows in their original mooing colors – dull, brown,coarse. Earthy and down-to-earth as he himself was. And he was happy again.

© 2016 Alka Girdhar

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Written for weekly Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers by Priceless Joy. This week’s photo prompt is provided by S. Writings. Thank you S. Writings!

After publishing the above piece, I was still in a mood to write magical colorful stories and so here’s another spontaneous one.

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Story 2:

“Come sweeties! My Shona! My Lillie! “ Mrs Smith’s voice was full of emotions as she patted the colorful cows.

“Look at you. You sound as if they’re your daughters Shona and Lillie” I teased her

“But they are my daughters”, Mrs Smith said with an emphasis on the word ‘are’


Making sure no one was listening, Mrs Smith explained “Yesterday both sisters went to a fancy dress party wearing bright colorful gowns. My naughty girls ended up having a tiff with a guy dressed up like a magician”

“Aww! And then…?” my mouth and eyes all wide open in wonderment.

“He wasn’t just dressed up fancy. He was a real magician. Turned them into…” Mrs Smith hesitated using the word ‘cow’ while continuing to feed them spinach that she just bought from the Woolies.

“That’s too bad! But how did they come here…to these shopping center lawns?” I said looking around. I was sorry for Mrs Smith but also amused at the unfolding of her story.

“I had no space to keep them in my flat. Moreover here they can munch grass.”  Mrs Smith explained, with her eyes glued to the ground. She was hiding her pain.

“Ohh!” I giggled while I felt sad.  The occasion was serious but I just couldn’t help it.

Seeing me laughing, she broke down “The crooked guy wants an apology from my girls”

“Well, if it is that simple. Why don’t you apologize on their behalf” I tried helping her, this time in a serious tone.

“Yeaah I suppose so. That’s what mothers are for. I want my daughters back”

As we walked away from the girls, we heard them cry in their mooing sound. As if telling us to not go.

“Honey! I’ll be back soon. Will send your dad with his ute”

Mrs Smith was hopeful but I had doubts they could become humans again. In fact, I was doubtful if they were indeed her daughters or some real cows. But you never know.

© 2016 Alka Girdhar

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Hope you enjoyed my short stories. Do let me know


When Horses Come Home…

My short story for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers FFfAW:


Photo prompt by Scott of Scott’s Place

When Horses Come Home…

The way he had spent his whole life with horses, it was no surprise that the smart animals understood him more than humans did.

Jackie was little when his father passed away leaving the horse ranch to him. He loved his family of horses. He looked after them, fed them well, cuddled them. They too did all the hard work they were supposed to do.

As they all came home each night, he would sing lullabies to them. Not exactly singing but secret words and voice tone that could only be deciphered by his neighing horses. As he sang, gradually most of them would begin to relax and retire.

But every second day, at least one or two hyper-active colts would throw up tantrum snorts and refuse to sleep. What Jackie did then, was similar to what he, as a single father, did to his own children.

Simple set of rules:
Dole out extra love while also ruling out hunger, pain or other reasons for the colt’s misbehavior.
And if coercing doesn’t bring about the required response, then better ignore the brats. Left alone, usually they go off to sleep in no time.

After all, good manners don’t come by easy.

© 2015 Alka Girdhar