Assorted Drabble

Assorted Drabble

A Story by anandbose

These are a collection of assorted Drabble.


The Fake Pastor

The pastor conducted the convention with vigor. He touched women who were demon possessed with gusto. They started spinning around like topes. Some started crawling on the ground like serpents. He started laying hands on them and they were cured of their afflictions. The crowd applauded by reigning praises of Hallelujah and Praise the Lord. Little known to them was the sham of the pastor. Those who were demon possessed were his assistants and they were rehearsing the same prior to the meeting.


I was put in a mental asylum. The male nurse there carried a key on his belt. Late in the night, he lay sleeping. I went near him and broke his neck. I escaped from the asylum and went to Nepal. There I am having cushy life with a Nepali chick.

Hong Kong

I once went to Hong Kong to attend an interview for the post of an English Teacher. I stayed at the YMCA in Kowloon Peninsula. Late in the evening as I was walking on the road, I came to a dwelling where an elderly woman was standing out. She beckoned me eagerly and said: ‘come in son; I have many beautiful girls; have a drink;’ Realizing it was a brothel, I ran away from there. The next morning as I was walking through the same place, she was out waving incense and chanting mantras. As soon as she saw me, she waved her hands in a fit of anger and put what seems to me like a curse.

Jung a Memoir

Carl Gustav Jung is one of my favorite psychiatrists. In my college days I was reading his autobiography: ‘Memories Dreams and Reflections’. One night, there was no electricity and I was reading the section on archetypes by candle light. I took a break as the phone was ringing. When I went back, the candle to my surprise had fallen on Jung’s archetype Philemon. There was no wind at that time. Philemon was Jung’s alter ego; he has drawn it as a wise sage. I wonder what Jung is trying to say to me.

Shamanic Doll

This happened to me while I was teaching in an International School in Jakarta. The Principal told me to go and invite the UN Director there who was an Indian. Early morning I went to his office. I was ushered in and to my surprise: I saw a strange doll whose expression changed from mirth to sadness. I looked at it and it looked back at me. I left the office feeling bewitched.


Valerie, years ahead of my age came to our school on a teacher exchanged program. She was a poet and a painter. Though I was married, she had an erotic feeling for me which I did not reciprocate. We exchanged poems of love. One night in a hotel: she got me drunk with teacher’s whisky and then she invited me to bed with her. I with my Christian piety ran away from there. I regret the wonderful f*** I did not have.

Strange Tale

My uncle a priest passed away. We went to the parsonage to collect his belongings. It started raining and water seeped in through the door. I and my brother in law were there. To our amazement we could see the face of our dead uncle peering against us through the water. This is a true tale, stranger than fiction.


© 2019 anandbose

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Added on September 18, 2019
Last Updated on September 18, 2019
Tags: Drabble, Flash Fiction, art, literature



Pathnamtitta , Kurianoor, India

There's a joke about me that when I was baptized I pissed on the cassock of the priest and my tryst with iconoclasm being then I am a Hellenic Philistine, an Existential Nihilist, a staunch Epicurea.. more..