(Lest we forget, all language is breath) He would listen, each night, until the one before they would part, in the silence, to her stories.
Love affairs = bus journeys. Childhood defeats = water shortages. Grief = whiskey. I was trying to net life, only got difficult pleasures.
What you say to yourself you say to no one. You fill a gaping hole with a photo with lipstick mark. There is no home, only homelessness.
‘I couldn’t write till I was drunk and in Dozakh, Manto bhai.’‘I couldn’t get drunk till I went to Dozakh to write, Mirza sahib.’
Stop singing! Shouted Moin. Plug your ears, said the monster, chucking two banana peels at him. That’s how Moin’s mother broke her arm.
He struggled to build an empire, his son expanded it, the grandson frittered it all away.
"Actions speak louder than words," she whispered into his ears. She then walked over to the sink to wash the knife that she had used.
This one's a bit over the specified length.
The cat chased shadows but the girl made him stop. Too dangerous. Alien shots fired. She grabbed the cat. He clawed. She ran. Her shadow len
gthened to a new, loping gait.
2200 AD. Everything has run out: food, fuel, even words. 140 characters left. Writer of last whodunit falls short of three words: who did it
Think you can do better? Tweet your stories at @ForbesLifeIn, and if we like them enough, we'll retweet them.By the way, the Crossword Book Award results are being announced today. So go ahead and wish your favourites luck. I shall probably tweet the results from the venue later today, from my personal Twitter ID, @zigzackly
First Published: Dec 06, 2013, 03:25
Subscribe Now