The last couple of days have been quite mad around here. Hence the delay in announcing the next challenge. From the previous lot, I really liked avataram's hilarious short about Tachcholi Othenan although it was posted past the deadline (do I recognise the style from somewhere?).
Let's try something different today. Your story should include the words (phrase?) 'niggling fear' - in that order and not 'niggling' and 'fear'.
You have until 1800 hrs GMT tomorrow to post your story in the comment box. Look forward to it!
p.s. Thank you all for wishing the little 'un on his big day.
15 comments:
Hah! First again.
"It's just that I have a niggling fear", he had said conversationally, "that it'll hurt like the devil". All she could tell the cops when they came around was that she hadn't expected him to pull out the gun and shoot himself in the head. "Do you think it hurt?" she kept asking the investigating officer. She seemed distraught. The officer figured it was because her husband had died a pauper. Noone likes inheriting massive debt. Human nature.
These fiction things were turning out to be a pain, she thought, as she blew hair away from her face with a fat 'hmmmf'. Once she read the instigating post she'd neither be able to concentrate on work, nor think of any item from that big list of worries clouding her mind the rest of the time, until she put down a piece on notepad, quickly pasted it into the comment box and watched it go public. She sighed and turned the words for today's piece again in her mind... 'niggling fear' eh? What did it remind her of? Where did she read that? When does it happen?
Minutes ticked by wildly, until there was light, an idea shining bright, 'Aah' she said, as she jotted it down and hung it up, here!
He had finished meticulously double checking all the packs , and stood slouching against the granite pillar in the fading evening light, whistling incongruously and trying to ignore the niggling fear that he had forgotten something vital like his toothbrush or his 7 1/2 league boots. “Even if I have forgotten 'em, no harm done", he mumbled to his much puzzled horse, "Gandalf could do with the exercise"
He got into the car, adjusted the mirrors, figured out where the important dashboard indicators were, remembered the seatbelt, breathed in deeply in an attempt to control the niggling fear that he was going to do something seriously wrong and pulled out of the Avis parking lot. He’d never seen the headlights of a truck at such close range before, they were pretty bright. “Aandavaa,” was all he could managed as he realized where he was..
He sat in the darkest corner of that nondescript pub, just like he had done everyday for the past year. He hated the seediness of the joint, the stink of degeneration , but it was a part of his job. To catch a Roman, go to Rome, as his superior had put it,(sure he would say that, he wasn't the one on the trip!) , and he had become quite the Roman. Still, he never got used to it , and every evening when he walked through into that pub , he devoutly hoped it was his last visit. Today however, he has walked in without throwing a single contemptuous glance around. He sat abruptly at his usual table, and ordered his usual without bestowing the formula epithets on the bald bartender, who proceeded to sulk behind the counter, hurt by this slight. But he was oblivious to all this.
Something at that crime scene was not right...Man dead, wife and daughter distraught, financial trouble , case of suicide.. all that checked out. But something kept bothering him, some niggling fear that this story wasn’t done yet... What was that little girl putting into her pocket? He sat bolt upright, fear rising within him like vapor from a boiling vessel. That bottle of cough syrup.....
Looking beyond at the green meadows and sprawling trees,
While they ranted incessantly,
Statistics and finances, Interpretations and more,
The drooping eyes drifted to slumber after heavy lunch
And niggling fear of being caught drifted with the deep slumber !!!!
With ‘6 Comments’ blaring at the end of the post, she clicked the mouse-button with niggling fear.
What if someone already had posted her story-idea?
Since Karunanidhi had said that even past dynasties could have their own ambassadors, Mahendravarman III had been dispatched from the past by his estranged brother, as a different kind of exile. Mahendravarman III had no interest in his diplomatic duties. All he was interested was finding the best dosai in Chennai, something better than what Anupallavi made at home. He thought none of them measured up. Annalakshmi came close, but more than the dosai, it was their chutney that was marginally better than Anupallavis.
Somehow he had dragged himself out of bed to present his credentials to Governor SS Barnala and Karunanidhi. In keeping with his status as a scion of the greatest dynasty in tamil nadu, he stood ahead of many ambassadors from the past & present. Though he had rehearsed many times at home, and could tell his Rasathiammal from his Dayaluammal, he had a niggling fear that something could go wrong.
He went up on the podium and presented his papers. SS Barnala admired his diadem. He admired SS Barnala´s diadem. Then there was a pause and Karunanidhi whispered to Barnala, “Ambassador Pallava”. Barnala brightened up and said, “I love your paper masala dosais, they are wonderful”
Mahendravarman III cheered up immediately. Here was a fellow time traveler and dosai lover!
She looked at herself in the full length mirror on the wall of the powder room. The dress was breathtakingly beautiful… as though it had been made for her perfect curves and peaches and cream complexion. When her friend had suggested the Eliza J creation – the strapless green dress, she had been thrilled. What a thing to wear at the party filled with the rich, the stylish and the beautiful! She’ll get definitely turn a few heads in that dress…
She knew she looked beautiful, yet there was this trepidation inside her… She was wearing a strapless gown for the first time… Will she be able to carry it off or would it fall off embarrassing her? Shrugging away her niggling fear she smoothed her dress down and left the room… As she entered the Hall, she felt unnerved… She sighed…and her niggling fear became an appalling reality!
Have I told you about my smart, intelligent friend Sam? Poor fellow, he is always putting his foot in his mouth. There was this one time, during a period of instability at our company, when he confided to an African-American colleague: " I have a niggling fear that I am going to be axed soon". The colleague, looked confused and angry, and said: "Axed to do what? And who you calling niggling?". Sam was gone soon, as word spread that he was a closet racist.
Says Ammani
Niggling fear and not niggling and fear
Treading to a new challenge
While earlier posts lay in obscurity
Scratching the rusted self proclaimed talent
In mundane office, papers piling
The omnipresence of two words
Overcoming the sanity
While niggling fear of the irate boss peeping through cabin
Remains in background
She gives up her attempt to churn an interesting story
what is the meaning of "niggling fear", could there have been a mistake, she wondered. she then thought, with a smile, how does "giggling fear" sound instead.
giggling and fear were something she could relate to, but then, "giggling fear" would be an entirely new experience in itself for her.
both phrases were equally new to her now. she wondered, could it be, the pessimistic and optimistic versions of fear?
May be you want to take a look at this Creative Writing Challenge.
http://www.answers.com/main/writing_challenge.jsp
Deepika's is really cool and nice :)
after seeing deepika's story i think, my niggling fear has finally come true :)
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