(Wrote this back in 2008 . My first attempt at writing a really short story (apparently it's called flash writing). This one was supposed to be less than 500 words & the theme was 'journal' or 'blog'.)
"I am not sure what to say and how to say it!" she cried. Bela put her arm around Diya, "Oh you poor baby. Honestly, I'd have just killed myself if I were you. But you… you're a lot stronger than that."
"Listen," Bela tried her most optimistic voice, "I have an idea! You could write a letter. Confess to everything." Diya's sobs grew uncontrollable. Her eyes all puffed up, she moved to the bean-bag and leaned back, "no… Bela, you don't understand… confessing… won't solve anything. The deed is done… and now, I am not even sure… what words to use to describe it!"
They sat in silence in the sunny room; Diya on the bean-bag, and Bela on the Diwan. On any other Sunday, they would have sat around with chilled beer and watched one of the many movies from their collection.
But today was different… Bela took out her laptop and began to type aimlessly; anything to keep her from saying something wrong to Diya. Minutes turned into hours. Diya continued to stare at the ceiling, not seeing the abstract patterns left by the sun's rays. Bela went tap-tap-tap-TAP… tap-tap-TAP... for a long time. Rubbing her eyes she went across the room; switched on the light. It was late evening already and she had difficulty focusing, having stared at the monitor for hours.
Diya sat in the same position but her sobs had stopped. Bela whispered, "chai?" Diya mumbled a yes.
On her way to the kitchen, Bela peeped over at her screen… frowned, moved closer… the silence continued, the stillness in the air was palpable. "Wow!" Bela's scream jolted Diya from her reverie. "What the...??" Diya yelled.
"Oh baby, I have an answer to all your troubles!" she smiled. "Duh! Why didn't I think of it earlier?"
"Will you tell me what the hell's on your mind?"
"Diya, all you need to do is blog this whole incident down, and give it a fictional twist. Ask everyone to comment on it, their reactions if they were in this situation."
"Get people to write different endings to your story… let them get into your shoes. They won't know it's yours!"
"I don't understand how that can help???" Diya shrugged.
"Oh my God, Diya, snap out of it and think girl!"
Slowly, very slowly, Diya's face broke out - the inner struggle at one point making her look like a weatherworn monster – and she smiled...
"I think I'll have that chai after all."
She rushed to Bela's laptop and typed out furiously, a surreal glow forming around her face, highlighting a sinister smile. Something was wrong and something was just right. The noises in the kitchen died out as Diya finished "…is my story and I am truly sorry for everything I have done. Logging out for the last time – Bela Zimmerman"