Fiction

Feast of Senses

Sound. Click-clack. Click-clack. Pause. A reprieve of sorts. Breathing out, silently. Cannot show fear. Click-clack. Click-clack. Scarlet stilettos systematically stabbing stained cellar surface. No escape from the tinge of blood. Fleeting silence again. It’s the silence I fear the most. Because it ends, invariably, in another click-clack, closer and louder. And here it comes. Click-clack. …

Purpose

‘How many ways can one write “He decisively thrust his engorged protrusion into her dewy cave” before it gets nauseatingly repetitive?’ I exclaimed, getting exasperated, throwing the imparting implement and watching it float away. “Darling, first, with six different verbs, nouns and adjectives to play with, and with about a dozen words for each, you …