A post of reminiscence

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This picture was taken in early 1960’s. Those were some early day of my grandparents’ married life.

Writers mostly avoid using adjectives in their writings but my grandmother was such a beautiful, kind and caring soul that for the sake of her, I can write hundreds of adjectives here.

I remember those long winter nights when we kids used to snuggle on her bed and while reminiscing about her past she would get sad but as the dreariness of cold night tried to cast its spell so did she, for while narrating stories from her past, her voice remained firm and calm.

At the time of her marriage, she was young and naive but in all her life she remained thankful to her husband who taught her to read and write. At times, when she was in mood she would tell us that due to her fair complexion she never cared much about doing makeup and would feel contend to have Tibet snow cream and red lipstick as her only makeup accessories.

Staying at home and taking care of seven kids, she didn’t find much time for herself and whenever my grandfather would buy clothes for her, she would gladly wore colors of his choice.

She was admired for her far-sightedness. In all her life, she never saw the face of school but learnt a lot from her experiences. Once, sitting with my sisters, I was joking and praying that something bad would happen to my old mobile set so that I could get free from its burden when she heard me and in her strong voice interrupted and said,

“Mobiles are not meant to show off. There only purpose is to receive and make a call.”

Such was her vision about life and such was her simplicity that despite all difficulties in her life, she remained thankful to the blessings of Allah Almighty.

The day she died, I thought that life would never be same and today after one year when I have finally found some time to sit and contemplate, I’m wishing that something might have changed but everything seemed to remain same.

In all these past months, I wanted to stop and take rest but as weeks melt into months and months are turning into years, I’m finding little and no time to contemplate.

Life is cruel, it goes on and so do we.

In the line of duty

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

“I watched the vultures looking at me hungrily as I lay on the ground bleeding and injured”

These merciless clouds of death had already devoured my friends and now in this lifeless desert, I’m all alone. My vision is getting blurred and it’s hard for me to keep my eyes open.

I can see their bald heads and red eyes, they are getting closer. Oh my people! Remain witness to the fact that I’m not a traitor, I’m a patriot, I’m not a lawbreaker but I respect law.

I’m an ordinary person who has assigned some special duties. Remember, I’m a journalist who has embraced martyrdom in the line of duty.

Despite all the advancements, there are still some areas in the world which are considered dangerous for journalists. 


This post is a response to Mondays Finish the Story. We are provided with an opening line and we’re supposed to write a story between 100-150 words.

Story of changing roles

PHOTO PROMPT -© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Late in the night, the clouds roared and it started to rain. I saw my parents ran towards the backyard. The birds in their cage were fluttering; together they picked their cage and brought them in.

I was afraid and when my mother tucked me in her blanket, I felt asleep.

The book of life continued to turn its pages and years later my role got changed. It was still raining when I ran to take down clothes from line. Later, while passing by my daughter’s room, I looked inside.

Holding her teddy bear, she was sound asleep.

(98 words)


This post is a response to “Friday Fictioneers”, hosted by ROCHELLEWISOFF.

PHOTO PROMPT -© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Story of a brave woman

125 10 October 11th 2015

Young and naive Maria never realized that she was getting abused.

Once, she was badly beaten, on that evening she gave birth to her daughter. I was there at a hospital and on seeing her red rimmed eyes and swollen face, I couldn’t control my tears.

On that night, sitting beside her bed, I tried to make her realize that she had to take a decision. Maria remained hopeful and coming days proved that my fears were right.

Her husband never appeared.

Turning a new page in her life, Maria started to go back to her college and after that she never looked back.

It’s been more than twelve years and today I met a different person. The famous lawyer of a country welcomed me. I met her beautiful daughter and remained there for some time.

I was about to leave when she embraced me and said, “I’ll always remain thankful to you”.

While, I gently took her hands and replied , “No, Maria it was you who took that decision. The mountain of success is difficult to climb and you made it to the peak. You are brave and I’m proud of you.


The story is my submission to Sunday Photo Fiction.

Story: Mystery of castle

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

Few knew about the castle hidden inside the island and no one knew about my plan.

On one sunny morning, leaving a letter for my family, I went on an adventure.

The emerald green island was surrounded by a blue sea. On getting closer, I stepped out of my boat and tried to hear the gushing of waves.

It was all very calm.

Searching for sometime, I finally found the castle. It was a sure sign of grandeur and I was busy in observing it when I noticed something was written on its wall.

It read

Welcome, I’m amazed at your bravery!

In no time sky changed its color. I felt a strange sensation and the next moment I realized my mistake…

Closing the novel, I felt my hands were wet . My heart was beating profusely and I was sure that scientists were right.

Reading the novel had improved the function of my brain and very successfully I started to put myself into the body of book’s protagonist.


This post is a submission to Mondays Finish the Story. First sentence is given and we are suppose to finish a story using 100-150 words.

Story: Linda’s Life

The life without children was lonely for her and in order to fill that vacant space, the kind old Linda showed great care for her flowers.

Standing in a window of my room, I often observed her garden. For, a neatly trimmed grass and the colorful bushes of flowers were a refreshing sight.

All day long, Linda kept herself busy in baking. In the evening she used to sit in her garden and the children from neighbor gathered round her. She was a great raconteur and while listening to Linda’s story, they also enjoyed eating her delicious cakes.

Painting was her way of expressing her feelings. Her house was full of her drawings.

I knew she was getting old and I was worried about her. Once, I tried to make her realized that she required some rest but she said

It’s true that I’m getting weak but I won’t like to sit idle. I’d like to die in harness.”

Today, the garden is for children to play and enjoy themselves.

As for me, I can imagine her standing in her garden doing painting.

Linda died with her boots on.

(186 words)


Many thanks to PricelessJoy of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. The photo prompt is provided by Graham Lawrence. It is a beautiful picture.

A letter to Chile!


Dear Chile!

I hadn’t got a chance to witness the strength of human courage till the time came when I realized that man’s strength and power can make him achieve impossible tasks.

I can never forget that day of 2010. For, watching the rescue operation in Chile was a life changing moment for me.

It was a live telecast and my family was gathered around the television. The day light of early morning was making it difficult for me to conceal my tears. I hate being sensitive and that was a tissue worthy moment.

By the time the first miner appeared on a surface, the emotions were pouring out of my eyes. I can never forget that thunderous applause. Rescue workers were embracing each other. The television camera was showing a contented smile on President’s face.

The moment of family reunion was an emotional scene. The father was embracing his child and the child was crying hysterically.

I was amazed by the bravery of rescue workers. They worked day and night and that too effortlessly. How can I forget that rescue worker named Gonzalez?.He was the last man out. He stayed there till end and only came out when the last miner got rescued.

It really showed his strong commitment to his work.

The 69 days ordeal of trapped miners came to an end when the TV camera showed the sign “Misión cumplida Chile” in English (Mission Accomplished).

Thank you Chile for reminding me this great lesson of life. This great story from the pages of your history will continue to inspire me.


chile mission accomplished

Image credit: Google image

I’ve just finished reading an article in Reader’s digest. “Buried Alive” from the book “Deep down dark” inspires me to write this post.

My father’s Job

In my memory, the sturdy figure of my father is alive as a man of quiet nature.

In those days, I used to worry that why my parents never shared a bond of love.

Once, my father came tired at night and asked my mother for food.  Mother gave him a harsh look and started to complain about his meager income. Her screaming voice frightened me. On that day, I witnessed a great show of my father’s patience.

My father preferred to remain silent.

Later, before going to bed, I placed my head on his broad chest. His clothes smelled of hay. I loved that smell.

In his warm embrace, I felt a strange comfort. He said

Son, You need not to worry!

It’s been a long time. Today, I was asked to deliver a motivational speech and explaining myself to my audience, I said

No job is inferior. It is the man who makes his job superior. I’m known as a renowned business man but few people know that I’m a son of a ‘horse groom’.”

(177 words)


Thanks pricelessjoy of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers for this opportunity. It’s a fun way to write a flash fiction and thanks to Scott, author of the blog, Scott’s Place for this beautiful picture.

Story: The depressed witch!

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

“From her small balcony, the witch watched the world go by.”

Down in her garden, the golden streak of morning sun was tickling the yawning petal. As, the red rose opened its eyes, the witch closed hers.

Tears of failure welled up in her eyes. She had worked really hard to design that plot of destruction. She had given her best to that task but her efforts proved fruitless.

Mustering up her courage, she looked down. Children were playing. The air was filled with the joys of their laughter. She clenched her fists in anger.

She was still twitching with anger, when she saw his face. The shining black eyes of that tall figure forced her to bite her lips.

Standing on a street, the mayor smiled while looking at the barbed wires around witch’s house. He was satisfied about the safety of his town. For, in the darkness of night, the mayor was awake.

The witch’s plans were foiled by him.

(155 words)


This is my submission to Mondays Finish the Story hosted by Barbra. Barbra is not feeling well and I wish her a speedy recovery. Stay strong Barbra. You’re really brave 🙂

Mondays Finish the Story