Daily Prompt: Shine


The light that shines brightest burns fastest

Chanakya kept thinking of the line in his mind since morning. He was scared. He had played his hand and now his gamble might backfire on him.

Definitely result in some firing.

He had no choice but to put one foot after another. He had to pretend that everything’s normal, that his organization was not about to fall flat on its face.

So he made his breakfast, played his favorite Beethoven and sat in silence. Before he started eating, he picked a pinch of salt with his fingers and sprinkled it on his omelette. He looked up at the wall opposite his seat, at the clock.

9:55 am.

Only half an hour more. He sighed and started eating, the knife sliding smoothly cutting the omelet into pieces. He had about 35 minutes of freedom today before the police barges in, according to his estimation.

He was counting on it, the evidence he had dropped in the police station would be opened soon. Police will take 10-15 minutes to reach his evidence and a few more minutes for Judge’s arrest warrant to process.

10:30 am he would be walking out of his own home in cuffs.

He had no other choice. The only consolation for him was he won’t be the only one walking out of his home in cuffs. Chanakya had made sure that when he falls his competitors would also be falling down. The evidence would implicate Swami as well. This will make sure after the arrests, there would no rival families lunging for one another’s throats.

No turf wars. No war on the streets. Not until their sons grow up, which was still 10 years away.

10 years of peace.

Chanakya tried to squash the tiny shimmer of hope burning in his home. The Police had enough evidence to arrest him, he had given them evidence to arrest Swami. Why would his heart still think that the police spare him?

Because of the 10 million I dropped off at the inspector’s house.

It was hopeless though, the inspector’s reputation preceded him. Truthful and idealistic. He would use the money to implicate Chanakya even further.

He stopped eating, the last two pieces of the omelet looked unappetizing now. They looked dry. He was no longer hungry.

His breathing rate was rising, heart was beating faster.

Everything has ended.

He put his head down on the table and started crying.


 

An hour later he watched Police arrest Swami on the news. Not so ideal now inspector.

He is shining bright, but he won’t be burning out today.

 


 

Thank you for reading!

Time


Liberty Lion: Time

‘Circles? ’ I asked.

Grandpa lay gasping for breath. He is a stubborn old man; he wouldn’t admit he is too frail for a hike. We left our house about two hours ago to reach the summit of the hill. He would always verbosely describe his childhood achievements and all of the stories would have him and the hill in common. So today I challenged him to climb the hill again. Grandma was furious at me to voice even such a dare, but grandpa did it. And whenever he was winded, he would tell the best tales. He began.

‘You would want me to spin a story about my childhood or some other person’s life changing story? ’

I nodded. Old but still sharp my grandpa, I thought proudly.

‘Truth is this Gunther: all the tales are similar.’ he looked around the hill again, at the tree who’s shade we sat on and the valley where our house and farms lay, at the lake where we would go swim and fish.

‘My grandfather also brought me to hikes. He loved them. Then we stayed in a different place but when I bought this house I had one requirement: a nearby hill’. He nodded and took a deep breath as if he tried to soak in the nature. I wasn’t following his harangue but I was rapt. My grandpa told tales that brought the entire village to a standstill, there’s something about his words that bonds you to them, to him.

‘Just like my grandpa I am doing the same with you. And if there’s anything I can tell about life is that it is a circle. ’

‘Circle of Life? ’ I asked. He seemed pleased with my answer and smiled. He raised his hand and ruffles my hair. I hated whenever someone else did it but I liked it when he did that. ‘So life repeats itself? ’ I asked again dubious of my own comprehension. He thought about it for a while ‘Most of the times.’ he knew I didn’t understand completely so he let loose a sigh and started again.

‘Read history son, it is recurring. Some tyrant rises, some heroes die, so on and so forth. Take people son, they always make the same mistake again. Life is cruel because it does the same trick on you all the time and you fall for it. ’ Now I understood his point. I was only 9 year old then but the implications of the same wouldn’t dawn on me until I was 25 and broke. But I had one more question for him. ‘And time grandpa? ’ He smiled again, I remember a hint of sadness was there ‘Of course time is a round too. Why do you think clocks are circular?’

By Mayur Remember

 

Check Out Other’s Responses:

https://bencnicholson.wordpress.com/2015/07/22/literary-lion-time/

https://mandibelle16.wordpress.com/2015/07/23/literary-lion-this-thing-called-time/

https://deliriousantidotes.wordpress.com/2015/07/23/hourglass/

Time to Leave

Hopeful 

Alice Accepts Her Fate

https://thisismyironlung.wordpress.com/2015/07/24/tainted/

https://livingonchi.wordpress.com/2015/07/24/literary-lion-time/

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Literary Lion – A Homonym Too Far

http://mwlangridge-awritersjourney.com/2015/07/26/the-clock-on-her-wall/

https://livehomeandaway.wordpress.com/2015/07/26/seeds-of-time/

Time

https://vnktchari.wordpress.com/2015/07/28/literary-lion-time-my-reflections-on-time/

In Time…Who’s going to remember?

https://sonyca.wordpress.com/2015/07/28/time/

King, fiction

Literary Lion: King


(Liberty Lion: King. Weekly Prompt by Laura Feasey.)

 

‘Who is this King of Browning street? ’ Hector exploded into the nearest constable.

Hector had recently been very angry. A lot of times. His anger issues stemmed from his childhood, from his mother abandoning him but somewhere in life he got it under control. For his job required him to be cold and distant and logical, angry cops make mistakes. Angry cops lose cases because of their recklessness. Angry cops make enemies.

So he got into the program, worked his issues and became a role model. Till this case.

What started out as a normal homicide in an alley had turned into a serial killing. If that news was bad enough,  the victims were all serial molesters. Hecklers and troublemakers for woman. And someone was killing them.

The second onwards all the victims had a card on their hands: A King. Of any category, they always had King cards. So the media named the killer The King of Browning Street.

The constable was embarrassed by the public humiliation delivered to him. This was the tenth crime scene and the King card was now nailed to the victim’s head. And with the media and the political pressure mounting,  Hector had began to crack. The crime scene was the same: A single gsw to the chest,  post mortem positioning of the body so that the hands covered their genitals and their jaws opened. No evidence and no witnesses.

Anyways no one would probably come forward,  everyone wanted the troublemakers out of their streets. And the thugs were too egotistical to let cops handle this for them.

Hector had an interview this afternoon, but because of the new homicide he rescheduled it. He tried to remember who the reporter was but he kept forgetting her name.

A constable let a female in the yellow tape and immediately he regretted it. Hector went raging at him to not let pedestrians in and how he would have the constable suspended for this when the female showed her press ID.

‘Hello Mr Hector. Since you were too busy I thought I’ll get my interview on the road. I can assure you I will be of no hindrance and I won’t utter a word till you are done with investigating the scene.’ She had lovely eyes. And a face that reminded him of his high school girlfriend. What was her name? Karen yes Karen.

His anger suddenly vanished he nodded but asked her that no photographs or recordings be done else he would land him in trouble.

After a while he asked her name though he never heard her last name,  else he would have shown a different reaction then.

‘Karen. Karen King. ’