Just once



Here’s this weeks’ Three line tales

The world was at his feet however the big walls of his mansion became his dungeon as the silence began to scream and the loneliness began to haunt him.

That’s when he met the man who promised him the sole desire of his heart, to see her again if he smoked the magical powder, but with caution because if he used it more than once he might lose his mind.

The man smoked all at once, hoping to enter the paradise of insanity where all her saw was her, as her voice invited him further and further, he lost his senses as he began to sense her presence again after years.



The beginning of forever

This week’s Three Line Tales  prompt and the tale –



We met when we were little kids, just a couple of 5-year-olds, giggling, running around holding hands, finding momentary bliss in our sandcastles, building a tiny perfect world under our blanket forts, swinging together under the pale moonlight.

Today as I sit on that swing in your backyard again, watching the pretty flowers, the stark white chairs, waiting patiently for the event to begin, I remember the promise you made to love me forever when we were 18 and blush.

I hear footsteps approaching, dozens of friends and family pour in every year on this date, as I celebrate the day that was supposed to be our wedding day but instead became the day the war took you away from me,forever, by decorating the backyard just the way we had intended it to look.

© Sneha P [Rights Reserved]

The deserted motel

Three line tales 



A strong horrible smell of something rotten hits my nose, as I try to adjust my eyes to the darkness lit solely by the “SERVICE” sign at the front desk.

The night was stormy and this was the sole motel on the deserted road, but I regret entering as soon as I see two creepy red eyes staring at me from the darkness.

I take a step back and stumble, an icy cold hand grips me to prevent my fall, as I see his pale face inches away from me, “Welcome to Hotel Devil’s Lair, I hope you have a long, long, stay here” he whispers.


© Sneha P [Rights Reserved]

Stuck in a loop

Here’s my entry for this week’s Three Line Tales


I stood there looking into your charcoal eyes, as you took a half-reluctant step towards me, the leaf crumbled beneath your feet, I apprehensively took a step back.

You slowly but swiftly picked up something and shot an arrow right at me, sucking out my life force, before I could run, I wonder if you realised that it’s me and that we were destined to meet again in this lifetime, only for you to destroy me completely….again.

This time as a cruel hunter apathetic to the agony of a beautiful deer, in the previous life as an indifferent lover, impervious to my emotions.


© Sneha P [Rights Reserved]

The wait

This week’s story for the Three Lines Tale challenge.



Grandma used to sit with a ball of wool, knitting mechanically, every evening on the porch.

Every day around 7.30pm, she would get impatient and start knitting hurriedly, her eyes fixed on the gate until 9pm when she would return inside dejected and go to sleep.

Later I came to know, when grandpa was alive he would always come back home by 7.30pm from work, never late than 9 pm and grandma would always greet him at the gate with a smile.


© Sneha P [Rights Reserved]


Here’s my entry for this week’s Three line tales, interesting and different photo prompt indeed!



‘Ma! Look that man has weird hands” pointed the little boy, puzzled,since he was only used to seeing men dress crisply and dapperly, like his father.

As he ran down from his room upon hearing his mother’s screams that night, he saw her sitting coiled in a corner, the tattooed man holding her shoulder, his father lying unconscious on the floor.

Later in the courtroom, as the real story unfurled, he learned a lesson against prejudice the hard way.


© Sneha P [Rights Reserved]


A witness


She bore witness to his murder, a mute observer. Half wanting to stop her from killing the man who was once the love of her life, half-rejoicing, for she was finally free. Free from his menace, from being dragged around like a puppet, free from being crushed like a dead flower everyday. The purple bruises on his body now matched hers. The murderess had made sure he paid back for his sins.

She didn’t know if she should curse or thank the murderess, who now stood with blood all over her hands, a few red splashes on her pale face, her dark eyes staring devilishly back at her. The stranger in the mirror gave a wicked grin.

© Sneha P [Rights Reserved]