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Voicing Silence 7

Saturday, October 20, 2007

24-hour challenge - 7

It's avataram again. With his time-travelling Pallava monarch that was a definite favourite among the last lot.

Today's theme is 'curdle'. A slight difference this time being, you have until 0800 GMT Monday morning to post your entries. Look forward to reading your stories. Thank you.

14 comments:

Jasmine said...

There was little to be done about the milk. She had heated it with care last night, so that it would be exactly warm enough when he arrived home from work. And he hadn't even noticed it. It had curdled - and oh how she hated the smell.

Uma's nose wrinkled as she poured the milk down the kitchen sink. Still, the smell was better than the one she found on her husband these days. That smell was a sour smell, too, but it was the smell of hurried sex and dirty sheets, of broken promises and betrayed trust. Yes, the smell of curdled milk was better than that of her curdled marriage.

Anonymous said...

how do you succicntly summarise meeeting a politician, an underworld don, a film-maker, a reputed chef, a business rival,a bartender and finally your wife...all within the span of a day??......"blood-curdling" indeed!

A4ISMS said...

He had broken into the dark building in the middle of the night… Hunger and thirst had got the better of him… It seemed eons since he had had a decent meal… He surveyed the place and sighed in ecstasy and anticipation…so much to drink and eat… his stomach rumbled, reminding him that it was ages since he had ingested something palatable… This fare before him was like a gourmand’s dream… Quickly, he helped himself liberally and settled down at a table cluttered with files. He found a black coffee mug with a white skull painted on it… Pushing the files down the table, he filled the mug…

She heard something crash inside. Who had entered her room in her absence? Not an intruder, God…! She prayed. She had heard the reports about the break-ins in the neighbourhood. She hated night duty… But with her financial status she didn’t have the option to choose. She opened the door quietly. What she saw inside made her scream … a scream that could curdle blood…

And Count Dracula watched in shock as the contents of his mug curdled…congealed and coagulated… getting thicker and thicker as the woman continued to scream…! People started running into the Blood Bank… He had to run for life…yet again!

Anonymous said...

it's 17 years later...
i can now afford plastic surgery
eight hours under the scalpel
47 nights of pain
99 days of recovery
for
one perfect face
-
just so that i could spite Manjula in my head: who wrote these words on my autograph book
"you have the kind of face that is most likely to curdle a bowl of milk"
**
dhanbert

Vi said...

Am late, and its not so short; please excuse.

http://vivalavi.wordpress.com/2007/10/21/of-silent-nights/

Karthik said...

It was Monday morning and he was not ready to get up. After deciding to snooze for another 5 minutes, he pulled his blanket over his face. Next second only his physical body was there on the bed. Firstly he was a passive observer in the Darfur refugee camp and witnessed a bunch of skinny kids fighting among themselves to take a sip from a water pool curdled with dirty mud. Heart-broken, he vanished from there only to find himself in the streets of Iraq where human bodies were floating on curdled blood pool. He passed quickly from this sight and landed in Karachi, where the current president and the former prime minister who is returning from her exile are playing a political game in an already curdled politics. The smell emanating from the blood dripping limbs and torsos of innocent souls from a recent bomb blast badly curdled his stomach and forced him to leave. He pulled himself out of the bed and went to the patio to get some fresh air. The air was very fresh, but it failed to invigorate his mind, which is curdled to the core with his 5 minute travel around the world.

Shyam said...

Dhanbert's shortie was brill!

shakuni said...

The great witch of the Russian steppes, BabaYaga, waited for "How to use your nails" to end before sending her eight children to bed.
"Curdle up tight", she said. "It is getting cold".
"Mum, it's 'cuddle' not 'curdle'", cried BooBooYaga, only to be spanked by her mother.
"I must speak to the English Howler at your school".

Karthik said...

good one from Shakuni!

Sango said...

An evil creature inside a seemingly secure box.. The creepy creature would make your blood curdle..
Violently mysterious, the box would shake and shake until anyone standing and witnessing it is
filled with fear and at the same time filled with the curiousity to know whats inside the box.. Then she would appear from behind the curtain and open the box.. introducing the audience to her mischievous little puppy!
The Perfect prop for a halloween party! Isnt it?!

Shirsha said...

She sighed after reading the last page, and turned to look at the clock. It blinked 12.10 AM. Gosh! I better sleep, 5 hours left before I have to kick start another day of idlis, filter coffee, puliogere, curd rice and ... Oh! she stalled, for there were 2 items still pending in her list of to-do's for today(!). 1. Put the milk in the fridge and 2. Put up new challenge question on blog.

She groaned, went down to the kitchen, slid the lid of the milk vessel, and saw... she brought it close enough to smell and smell again, and groaned louder. The milk had curdled. She bitterly cursed herself, as she trudged to the computer, and bitterly set up the next challenge post, with the word 'curdle'.

Somehow that seemed to satisfy her and Ammani smiled a tiny smile and went to finally draw the shutters on the day.

Chockalingam said...

After the brutal commute from his BPO in Tiruvanmiyur to his bachelor mansion in Vyasarpadi, Ananthasayanam would take off his trousers and change into a white banian and veshti. He would of course remove his tantex jetti, for he did not like to be subjected to pelvic pressures in his private quarters. He would then drench his tantex jetti in lukewarm water and hang it out to dry so it can be fresh for use tomorrow. He then grabbed a bottle of cold Aavin chocolate paal from the Kelvinator fridge and applied the bottle to his sweaty forehead. The sheer pleasure of cold chocolate milk next to his hot grimy forehead, ah...absolute bliss! He opened the bottle and would have proceeded to down its contents in a massive gulp, but through the jennal kambi he had noticed a large raven perched on his wet tantex jetti. He ran down the stairs to chase off the raven which might otherwise soil his jetti. Meanwhile in the kitchen, a hungry lizard scampered out of the nook and into the inviting bottle.

During their afternoon lunch break, all the BPO colleagues showed up at Kilpauk cemetry with one bottle each of Aavin chocolate milk. As the last rites were uttered, they opened their respective bottles and somberly poured the milk over his grave. The curdled paal in his tummy told an altogether different tale.

avataram said...

Because it was Kari Naal, Ananthasayanam had gone to the office in Tiruvanmiyur a little late, which was fortunate as his BPO had been swept away by a Tsunami. But he had managed to save his favourite girl at the BPO, Tripurasundari who he found clinging to a Tantex hoarding. The grueling commute back to his bachelor mansion in Vyasarpadi seemed very light as they sang Ilayaraja-Janaki duets to each other. They will now start a BPO by the same name. The company in the US would know no better.

In the kitchen, Tripurasundari screamed. A lizard had fallen on her lustrous black hair. Ananthasayanam threw it away and opened his panchangam and turned to the “Palli Vizhum Balan” page. It said, “Koondhal – Mrityubayam”. So when he ran out to save his Jatti from the raven, and came back to drink his Aavin chocolate milk, he instinctively looked for the lizard on the wall. It was not there. He looked inside the bottle. There was a lizard struggling in the curdled milk!

Ananthasayanam threw away the bottle, embraced Tripurasundari, started the BPO and lived happily ever after. They bought a Panchangam every year without fail, and got the old ones bound from Chockalingam binders.

cerebral non-matter said...

She thrashed about in the labour room, through pangs of violent contractions that seemed to threaten to cleave her delicate frame. She dimly registered the nurses bustling frenetically around her, the doctor pelting out instructions.

She clenched her fists and screamed, her physical pain augmented by vivid images of being whipped by her husband. Of being punched in the stomach. Slammed against the wall. Pain had this odd habit of summoning bitter memories of the past.

When at last she passed out the tiny being, she heaved in relief and joy, anticipating the only thing that had given her life meaning in the last 9 months. The thrill almost intoxicating her into a hazy stupor, she held her son in her arms for the first time.

But the joy curdled a little at the sight of the tiny face. It bore the very features of the man she hated more than anything in the world.