Colossal perpendiculars and parallels, chords and tangents, altitudes and medians, did iterative rounds inside my head, actualising a whirlpool; one that was soon going to eat me up. I had to get this one right, a meek voice from within amidst the intermittent explosion said. I was defenseless; I cried, "IS JUNGLE SE MUJHE BACHAO!!"
Someone's being prolific today. :)
ReplyDeleteI love the way the image fits in with the narrative.
Good job, Anu!
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ReplyDeleteThanks, Sumit! :)
ReplyDeleteIt's funny you wrote about 55-Fiction today. I just did a couple at iBlogs this very day. :D
ReplyDelete"Dallas Air Control, we have a problem."
"What's the problem, Flight PX125."
"This is Stewardess Johnson speaking from the cockpit, sir. I request you to help me land this plane."
"Why? Where is the pilot, Johnson?"
"The pilot's in the bathroom, sir, and the door's jammed."
"Isn't there a Co-pilot?"
"Uh, she's in with him."
@Rindo,
ReplyDeleteWhoa! Coincidence :D
Good fiction there :)
nice one da :) a very nice one :)
ReplyDelete@Agent,
ReplyDeleteThanks da! :)