Daily Archives: September 12, 2011

A short, short, very short story…

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Think of Memory, Migration and Monsoons….. The last post was dealing with works in progress.   Moving forward Quill4 (a contributor to The Workrooms)  is sharing a shorter work to keep up the momentum.  It’s always awesome to share little pieces of your projects when you’re creating.   This is a piece from a previous project:

Wrote this in 2008 for the North Shore Writers’ Festival Short Story Contest  

In Mumbai, skies would gape open and bare teeth. Taxis would awaken from slumber, their drivers clutching wheels like guns, ready for battle in the streets. Crows would descend, operatically unafraid, into the wet jostle for space and survival. And Mohan would open his eyes and walk to the window with a grateful pace.

‘Dr. Mo, will this hurt?’, and once again Mohan was exploring the metal laced mouth of Tim Stewart, who had the talent of being a thirteen year old comfortable enough in his own skin to talk at all times, to anyone, anywhere, and even with motionless lips. Tim’s utterances, however many, however nasal, were unforced, sourcing from some deep well of expression within him. Mohan thought about his own words, how they tended to meander, river-like, hugging curves of thought but never spilling honestly onto the shore. All the levies might break under all that pain, and that hope that held him prisoner to dreams, that shackled him here to this dentist’s office where his own name sounded foreign. ‘We’re actually done…you can close your mouth.’ Tim’s eyes had widened. ‘Are you okay Dr. Mo?’, and then unexpectedly, due to the youth of the inquirer, ‘Do you miss home?’. It was motherly, the intuitive concern, the complete lack of conceit. Perhaps, for once, Tim’s words deserved a response that matched their true worth. Mohan nodded truthfully, feeling as if the crows had suddenly burst into the office, as if the monsoon itself had released its blessed rains.