An Old Wives' Tale

This is the perfect date, no webcam between us, he thought.

They shared a Diet Coke and ate fries. 

“I’ll wait for your status update.” She received a text as soon as she reached home. 

She updated her status immediately : 2nyt ws awsm, gr8, lulzzzzzz.  

The boy, heartbroken, deactivated his account.

The End.

Drop Your Pants!

It was a very tense situation. I’d never done this before.

“Drop your Pants!” The security guard yelled at me. This was going to be very very embarrassing.

I dropped the pair held in my hands right away. Whoever thought people would want to wear buff colored pants, let alone get caught stealing them? 

Into the Bin.

It was on the table, under the keyboard. I took the keyboard on to my lap and saw it fall.
There it lies on the ground. An old piece of luck, of memory, of things returned.
It will be swept away tomorrow. And everything with it too. Into the bin.

Puppy Love

Looking into her eyes, he laid out his heart bare, with all that was said and unsaid.
She looked into his and knew, he will always be there for her.

They were inseparable, even off-screen. The directors were surprised and glad that they hit it off so well.

The music began :You and I..

Hostage-II

It’s peeping out. Slowly escaping.
Like a small bird flying out from behind the branches. Flight in slow-motion.
Is it the Stockholm Syndrome?- It seems to be running for cover, towards its own captors.
They can’t decide. Neither can. A weak struggle.
The mildly golden moon and the faint wisps of clouds draw.

Hostage-I

Its rather un-beautiful.

A small, intense moon and floating ribbons of dark covering it. Like looming ghosts, gliding over the sky. Taking over.
The moon wasn’t seeking refuge. It was being shrouded.
Now it’s completely swallowed.
It seems to be struggling to come to fore.
The clouds without any silver lining win.

Best Deals! Hurry!!

The need was urgent. Not many good options available.

The one on the left was overfilled, with old junk.
The one on the right seemed small, and pale.

The one at the back looked perfect, throbbing in the jar. Possibly 12 years old.

They say those are the best brains to buy.
Shopping done.

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My first attempt at 55-words-fiction.