It Ain't Right Till I Write

Cowards Don’t Die by Terveen Gill — Gobblers / Masticadores

The yellowed open pages of an old book
Reading Time: < 1 minute

Hello everyone! Hope the weekend was good and the week ahead is even better.

Sharing another flash fiction piece with you. Published by Gobblers/Masticadores.

A big thanks to Mr. Juan Re Crivello for this opportunity.

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Let’s Make MasticadoresIndia a Success! – Submissions Open

A painting of an Indian woman wearing a royal choli lehenga with jewelry
Reading Time: 2 minutes

I am so pleased and excited to announce that submissions for MasticadoresIndia are now open!

What a way to begin the weekend. On the WRITE note.

Please, don’t mind that little joke. It’s harmless and probably tasteless.

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Those Evil Mirrors – Flash Fiction Story

A woman holding a large piece of an unevenly cut mirror in front of her face and chest
Reading Time: 3 minutes

I hate mirrors. They show more than they need to.

Every time I pass one, my eyes dart around like scared rabbits. Who wants to see the ugly truth?

I don’t. But there’s a mirror everywhere you look. Are people so obsessed with themselves? Half the population hardly qualifies as average looking. Then what are they staring at?

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Perfect Day To Die By Terveen Gill — Gobblers / Masticadores

The yellowed open pages of an old book
Reading Time: < 1 minute

It’s a pleasure to share another Flash Fiction Story published by Gobblers/Masticadores.

The story is about a poverty-stricken man named Mithoo and his companion who is a witness to Mithoo’s daily evening drama. This story is a mix of emotions and as usual ends with an unexpected twist.

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The Man of the House – Flash Fiction Story

A black and white close up of a boy's crying face
Reading Time: 3 minutes

Ali carried the tray to his grandmother’s room. The boy was only seven years old, but he shouldered the responsibility of his mother’s mother like a grown man.

But were grown men afraid of their own shadows?

The wooden staircase wound like a serpent ascending to the second floor of the stone cottage. But Ali thought of it as the pit of hell. Though many would say hell lay beneath and not above.

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What’s My Mobile Number – John Malone – Flash Fiction Story

The image of a shadow of a man screaming on the screen of a mobile phone
Reading Time: 3 minutes

‘I don’t know’.

One hour and thirteen questions later I was repeating the same three words.

But the two men in front of me didn’t seem convinced. They looked at each other and then looked at me. Their faces had lost that friendly sheen. A fine layer of annoyance had settled instead.

It was them against me now.

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MasticadoresIndia will be born on September 1! — Gobblers / Masticadores

A small leafy twig held between two fingers against the outline of the sun in the background
Reading Time: 3 minutes

Hi everyone! Hope all of you are well and keeping your busy lives even busier with some wonderful reading and writing. Life seems quite dull without it.

It gives me immense pleasure to ANNOUNCE the LAUNCH of MASTICADORESINDIA on September 1, 2021.

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Too Many Questions? – Flash Fiction Story

The bronze sculpture of The Thinker against a wooden backdrop
Reading Time: 2 minutes

Hi, is that really you? How’s it going?

Are you surprised to see me?


You don’t know me? How can that be?

Remember that lemon tree? On the corner of Bradbury Street?

Which tree?

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And They Were Gone – Flash Fiction Story

A brown colored heart shaped leaf against a peach background
Reading Time: 2 minutes

I woke up one morning. And they were gone.

Just like that. No goodbye. Or see you later.

How did I know?

The quiet.

It was perfect. Surreal. Delightful.

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A Failed Fairy Tale Princess – Flash Fiction Story

A toddler dressed in a Snow White costume holding her mother's hand and walking
Reading Time: 3 minutes

Snow had been fed a liberal amount of fairy tales from a rather young age.

Open wide. Chew them well. Now swallow.

She had been only two when her mother had first introduced her to Snow White, the beautiful, fair maiden who hung out with seven short men. Not only was the character her namesake, but also the inspiration for her early dressing sense. Snow’s mother buried her tiny body beneath layers of frill and lace, each bow securely stitched and fastened.

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