Growing up and apart

Here’s my entry for three line tales

Years ago, they played on that beach, together as friends, then as lovers – each time oblivious to the world, lost in each other as the waves collide into one another and lose their existence.

They vowed to come there for their whole lives and they did, for their wedding, their anniversary and weekend getaways – each time creating memories that the sea would remember long after they were gone.

Today, they keep that vow, if not the vow of marriage, as they bring their kids to the beach on their days of custody,  just to reminisce the days of togetherness, before the waves washed away their love as well.


(c) Sneha Pathak

What I see

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


Tick-tock,tick-tock, the clock screamed, cutting through the deafening silence of the night, it only made me more anxious as I waited patiently for the clock to strike midnight.

As soon as it did, I carefully sneaked out of my room, through the hall into the gardens, where he promised he would meet me and we would run away, to get married.

As I run towards him, he is just standing at the end of the corridor where the stone pillars end, waiting patiently for me, smiling, I run as fast as I can, because I Know what comes next, hands drag me back to the solitary room in the mental asylum, where they taunt me for waiting 10 years for him, where they call me crazy, but they don’t see him waiting there patiently every night, I do.

(C) Copyright Sneha P [Rights Reserved]

The royal feast



Once the King hosted a big feast for the whole kingdom in the honor of his Daughter’s wedding. The whole kingdom was overjoyed and delighted. The commoners sang songs about the King’s mighty conquests and his bravery. While in his heart, the King was dying a thousand deaths. For he had agreed to marry his daughter to a neighboring Kingdom, to avoid a war as threatened by the groom’s father, the evil King. He had sacrificed one daughter’s happiness to save that of his other thousands of children, his subjects.

The women sang songs of love and and wished for the Groom, the Prince’s long life with the Princess. The Princess however, was fervently praying for the plan of poisoning the Prince to work. She was desperately in love with a soldier.

The kitchen hands were worn out from working overtime for the feast. Too much work, too few men. Their demand for more helpers had been denied due to security reasons, the king couldn’t trust anyone but a selected few to prepare the royal feast. Outside, dozens of people sit idly, unable to find employment, absolutely devastated by their lack of purpose and money.

The feast ended with absurd amount of leftovers, a miscalculation in the kitchen in terms of quantity. It was thrown away, fed to the dogs, most of it anyway, king’s orders were to feed it to the poor, but the people responsible for doing it, knew the king wouldn’t have time to look into this. The Royal men were so full, they had to puke to be able to breathe. Whereas the poor and the hungry, could never make it near the feast, always cast aside by the royal guard for fear of their stealing and spreading diseases to the royal family. Open feast? Not for all really.

Everyone went home declaring the feast to be a big success, ignorant to the woes of those mentioned above. In all honesty, the people responsible for cleaning were majorly upset, even the commoners thought the food was bland.


© Sneha P [Rights Reserved]



For today’s challenge I decided to try something different from poetry, so I’ve written a few micro fiction tales.

  1. Woke up. Nightmare began.
  2. They said he was the guy of every girl’s dream. One month with him and now he’s definitely the guy in my nightmares.
  3. Ran away from her village to chase her dreams. Now she wishes she could run back home when the nightmares have begun.
  4. “Sara, will you hold me when I get nightmares?” Kate pleaded. “Kate, I died three weeks ago, This is a nightmare. A living one.” the nanny smirked.
  5. Nightmares didn’t scare her anymore, for she knew it’s the dreams that hurt more when they are crushed.
  6. The  pretty doll her aunt gifted her was every girl’s dream, until it started crawling into her bed every night.
  7. Years ago I had a nightmare that my evil twin sister went on a killing spree. Months ago at the hospital I realized it wasn’t a nightmare. Weeks ago the doctors told me I have no twin sisters. Today I look at her in the mirror, the nightmare has only just begun.


Copyright © Sneha P [Rights Reserved]


Image source –

The Cookie Angel

Like always, criticism and comments are welcome 🙂

Walking like a girl with purpose, in my Black blazer, suit pants and a cream corporate blouse, high heels, hair flowing behind me like in those movies, careful not to trip and fall and make a fool of myself on the busy streets, I feign a look of confidence and composure. Mostly to blend in with the young crowd that populates the streets of the corporate hub of the city. All of them seem so sharp, or more precisely like a predator, their eyes set on only own goal, climbing the corporate ladder in this cut throat competition, no matter what the cost.  Each of them has their own territory, the tall, lifeless, cold buildings where they work.


My office, a glass building of 27 floors with a big bold sign that reads “Crystal”, is one of the most intimidating buildings in the area, and so are the people that work in it.

The primary residents of this building can be divided into types of people broadly – The sharks and the Soft ones. I say residents, because everyone spends about 12-15 hours a day in the building, some even more. Anyways, as the name suggests, the sharks are the ones who have their eyes on their goals and would shed any amount of blood (figuratively) to get what they want. Whereas the soft ones, are the ones that work, but try to maintain friendly relations with everyone and wouldn’t eat you alive. They lack what it takes to make it big. I should know, for I am one of the sharks. I must have crumpled dozens of fragile hearts and weak souls to get where I am in the job. Lying, cheating, stealing other’s work – you name it. No, I am not guilty. I just have what it takes.

Ever since I threw this girl, miss goody two shoes out of the building, her friend the soft ones loathe me. They secretly call me – the evil witch. Ha. Like that would affect me in anyway.


So one can imagine my surprise when I found a dainty little white box with a very scrumptious looking chocolate chip cookie on my cluttered desk next to my computer. I looked around unsuccessfully to find its owner.  “Who could have known I like chocolate chip cookies? I don’t have any friends here.” Absent mindedly I gnaw at the cookie, too greedy to let go, I finish it and thank the mystery “Cookie angel” in my mind and get back to the increasing pile of work I have pending.

Curiously, this continues for the next two months, at first I was suspicious, then I decided to quietly enjoy these treatscookiesand not let my overthinking deprive me of free cookies. I convinced myself that it must be some poor loser wanting to get noticed and get in my good books but lacks the courage to come up to me.

Free cookie and a fan? Lucky me. I could use some little treats after all, all the stress is finally getting to me I feel. I have been having nausea, muscle pain, headache and many other annoying symptoms.

I decide to visit the doctor the following evening. This time I am surprised that instead of the cookie there is a black ugly watch and a note on a clean white expensive stationery on my desk with the following words typed on it –

“Time up Evil witch.You days are numbered. No matter what are the consequences of my action, I have freed everyone from your menace. You can longer crush anyone’s dreams. Karma was watching. So was I”

Oddly, the words began to float on the page, my legs turn to jelly and I feel my mind slipping into a dark abyss.

Doctors say it’s a case of slow poisoning. I might not make it.

Copyright (c) 2015 [Sneha P ] Rights Reserved

A valentine’s story

Hello there reader! Before you go on, I’d like to say I’ve written this piece from a prompt from writer’s digest. Do check them out 🙂 Since I have never used prompts before to write, I would really appreciate some honest feedback and criticism if any. Your honest feedback can help a fellow blogger improve a great deal 🙂 What alternate ending can you think of, if any? Comments are welcome.

It was a hot summer day. The kind that feels like all the fire from hell broke loose and is raining down on the sinners on earth. Except that it wasn’t hell, for if it was I wouldn’t have to be working on my “sounds fancy but really isn’t” job.

To top it off I had to wait in the heat outside for a colleague to quickly pick up some papers, when he called and said he is running late. Perfect, I muttered to myself.

I decided to grab a quick cup of coffee from the nearby Starbucks. While I was preoccupied in my thoughts entering the cafe, I was pulled- rather pushed back to reality by a sudden jolt to my shoulder. Ouch. I turned to look at the faceless figure that had decided to earn a mean look from me today, only to find myself looking at the last person I expected to see there.

“Oh My God. Sarah Sommers! This cannot be happening” the once familiar voice exclaimed with unfeigned excitement. Whereas all I could do was try hard to shut my mouth that was caught in a half grin-half open jaw position. Ray had that effect on people. Well, at least on me.

With his thick mop of brown hair, chocolate eyes and a million dollar smile with a 6’2” height he was a catch.

After what must have felt like an eternity of sulking over the break up, I had finally locked him up into one tiny dusty corner of my mind. Suddenly just bumping into him, after a year, it felt like that dusty locker had just been broken into and set ajar, letting the memories of our once perfect relationship flood my mind, rendering me speechless.

I must have looked idiotic, just standing there, inarticulate. For he began his warm, throaty laugh the kind that caused his eyes to twinkle, the kind that made me swoon. After gathering my composure and muttering something almost unintelligible, we got talking.

After exchanging pleasantries and disclosing the reason for being in that part of town over coffee, well I drank, he just sat there, listening to me, the tension finally began to ease up.

We spoke about what had happened in our lives in the past year, our jobs, our families this and that. Then came the – I have missed you. I would be lying if I said it was unexpected. We had been close friends once. I had missed him too, I was just too proud to say it first. But him saying it first, made me melt. After apologizing a lot for behaving in such a rude fashion about the breakup, even though I was the one that let him go, I felt somewhat relieved to get it off my chest.

He was a gentleman about it. Gosh I loved him for that.

“Hey, do you remember,2 years back, I had confessed my love to you in the cheesiest way possible – remember? The letter I wrote to you on 14th February? It’s going to be 2 years tomorrow. How time passes! I can’t believe I did that! You must have felt I am some sleazy Romeo back then” He said smiling sheepishly.

“Right, that’s why I wrote you a letter back saying I felt the same way.” I joked.

It was so easy with him. Like breathing. After this chat, it felt like nothing had changed between us. All those irreconcilable that had made me break up back then, felt like nothing. I could feel the love that once was. After some 30 mins of chatting, we finally somewhat unwillingly bid our goodbyes and promised to stay in touch.

Later that whole evening, I thought about him. How he had still remembered little things about our relationship, our anniversary, his excitement on seeing me, how he never mentioned a girlfriend or anything, how fate had made us bump into each other all of a sudden just before V-day. It must  mean something.

Watching cheesy romantic movies with happily ever after’s and people in love all around you makes you take irrational steps. I, for instance, wrote a letter, an email technically. I thought it was a romantic touche. In hindsight If I had avoided going for coffee, none of this would have happened.

I wrote an email about all the feelings that he stirred up today, expressing my desire to meet him the next day and Hit send.

I waited and waited, as the clock struck 12, my laptop beeped as if on cue. I jumped with joy and like a teenage giggly girl ran to my laptop only read –

“ I can’t tell you how much joy you email has brought to me. I feel the same way. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.



Now all I had to do was make some work related excuse and get out of the lunch I had planned with Jack, my fiancée.

Copyright (c) Sneha P [Rights Reserved] 2015

A rainy night

Before I start with the story, I would like to tell you this is the first time I have made an attempt to write a short story. Hope you like it 🙂 Honest feedback and criticism is always welcome 😀

The dark clouds had been hovering over the city ominously for the entire evening.

Sam was what urban dictionary would call an opposite of a pluviophile. Something about the vengeful skies and the impending attack of raindrops on the perfect parched pavement just ruined his mood. Or maybe it was the fact that his penthouse was still 30 minutes away.

Or Maybe it was the fact that he had witnessed the mangled bodies of his parents lying before him, killed in a crash, on a night very similar to this one. A rainy night, preceded by a beautiful sunny day. A night 23 years ago. A night he would do anything to change.

He cursed his luck for today out of all days his $60,000 car had decided to break down. He despised walking. He always had. But he could walk a long distance if need be, fortune hadn’t always favored him when he was younger he thought spitefully.

I am still young I can walk.35 isn’t too old. At least the 4 girlfriends he had dumped over the past 2 years didn’t find him old.

He considered himself quite a player. There was no reason not to. With a tendency to break innocent hearts of beautiful woman, a thick bush of brown wavy hair on his perfect face with a body that could make some male models cry, coupled with those brooding black eyes – he was quite a catch.

His reverie was cut short when the lightning struck the dark deserted street just a couple yards away from where he was walking. Weird. This never happens right?

Blinded by the sudden flash before his eyes, his earbuds were assaulted by a heart wrenching cry of pain from somewhere nearby. He looked around frantically, mostly because he was scared. The voice grew fainter and fainter..Begging for help. He could not locate its source.

It began to rain. The world was veiled in a thick wall of water, mixing with the dark night. Like a kingdom of evil.

He felt horrified. He was alone on the street. The voice continued to scream. He wanted to help, he wanted to run. He tried looking for it, only in vain. He didn’t search much,for it felt like unnecessary trouble.

A mugging attempt perhaps? The city was filled with stories of innocent citizens assaulted in the night when they tried helping people posing to be in trouble.

He walked faster. The night swallowed the voice, only to be replaced by a deafening roar of a siren. A police van? An ambulance?

An ambulance rushed past him like a bullet, surprisingly the doors of the ambulance blew open by the violent winds. Inside he saw two faces. Covered on blood. The two faces he had once adored. The two faces he longed for more than anything in the world. The two faces that had he lost twice. Once 23 years ago, once today. Or is it the same day now?

Frantically he began screaming and running behind the vehicle.Lightning struck again.

Flash. The vehicle had gone. He was again alone. Running behind everything. Running behind nothing

He stopped dead in his tracks. He was flabbergasted.

His heart writhed with pain for even after making the journey of 23 years in a jiffy, he still couldn’t change his fate.

Copyright (c) [Sneha P] Rights Reserved 2015