The white marble gleamed in the sunshine, still wet from the morning rain. Black calligraphy engraved flawlessly, as though written by the fingers of an archangel. Coral and bloodstone twinkled; delicate, intricate, priceless.

From his gilded prison, the deposed monarch stared at his legacy; a drop of heaven in the nightmare of his twilight existence.

“You look ravishing in that dress.” Obviously. It took months to find this shade of red.

“It would look better on my floor though.” Agreed. I was kind of hoping the night would come to this. “So… you got protection, right?”

“I don’t like condoms. Can’t feel anything.”

“Then the dress is staying on, babe.”

Wedded Bliss
Everyday sindoor lined her parting and he told her he loved her. Most important in their relationship was that he held her heart just as gently as she held his. Theirs was a union of bliss, playful loving, made sweeter today by her body’s withholding drops of blood; signifying life anew.

But for that night.

________________

Large numbers of women are infected with the virus by their husbands...

Red. The colour of rocks she carries up a plank all day, backbroken. The colour of the sand below her where her child plays as he weeps unattended. The colour of my anger when I think of the millions like them. The colour of my shame, asking myself what I have done today to help.

Here is my shot at red

A Friend in Deed
Awaiting him, she sat swathed in red. He savoured the feel of the fabric as he wound it off her and around himself. She looked up, her glassy eyes mirroring his.

Friends had shared their secret, invoking drops of blood to take off their respective edges. Taking them high up. Bringing them crashing back down

She watched in a daze as blood dripped out of her body. She felt lightheaded and queasy but there was no pain. The red drops pooled together into a festive puddle that starkly contrasted the dingy linoleum. She put a hand on the counter to steady herself and called out.

“MOM!! I think it started!”

Books and their Covers
It had been his first time with a desi girl. She had insisted that she had only ever slept with two virgins, that she was cleaner than the goris he usually frolicked with.

The red ribbon he had been wearing fluttered out of grasp, appropriately questioning his concept of cleanliness and his trust of brown.

Wake up in the morning, not knowing where you are. Trudge to find yourself at a mirror, and staring back at you is that persistent stranger you avoid eye contact with. But today you can’t escape. You look up. Bleeding red-rimmed eyes stare back, demanding answers. You splash them with white and turn away.

Community Service
He lay down, mindful that after this he was going to feel extremely light headed. His Red Cross friends, knowing the ways in which blood was powerful, had been urging him to do his community service.

The initial prick was slight and he vial filled crimson. Then remained only a week more of blissful ignorance.

She forgot the bitter taste of his lips after a fortnight apart.

Also forgotten: the exhilaration when experiencing morning queasiness after years of yearning.

All that remains is her silent despair as he weakens, lying emaciated before her.

Silence as the neighbors cross the street.

She prays for silence for the child in her womb.

My thoughts only turn to you. And, just like the many coincidences that characterized us so many times, I was reminded today of the very first song that I sang for you.

I have never had such a feeling
Such a feeling of complete and utter love
As I do tonight

My Lady in Red

My shot at 55 on Red

The diamond merchant strode down the corridor, sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows of his baroque haveli, creating a palette of colour on the silk carpets.

He paused at the rosewood railings, looking down at the central courtyard. The rangoli was ready; pastel pink and vivid ruby enhanced by the glowing deeyas, a fleeting masterpiece.

"I am not passing judgement on anyone's lifetstyle choices. I am not your father. I am talking statistics – likelihood, probabilities. uff, don’t get huffy baba."

"It’s a disease.”

“yes, babu, but one that afflicts certain people more,” she said pinning the red ribbon to her bouse.

“And not a choice,” he said, but not aloud.

This one does have a couple of indirect "Red" connections, but you won't understand that until right at the very end. I also had to split the original version into 3 short-shorts -- but each one is actually 55 words long ;)

“Pay attention, 007”.

“Sorry, M.....Been practising my Urdu all night.”

“I expect you to be fluent by the time we parachute you in over the border.”

Bond scratched his now-thick beard. “The follicle stimulators are working well.”

“Fortunately you don’t need them for your head yet, unlike one of your predecessors.”

They both laughed dryly.

******************************

Bond’s Martini was drier, of course. A concession from M; he wouldn’t taste alcohol again for some time. Assuming he made it back alive.

“President Musharraf’s still dragging his feet,” said M, her accent cut-glass. “So if anything goes wrong, Her Majesty’s Government will deny all knowledge. You’re on your own.”

As always. “I understand.”

*******************************

M nodded curtly to dismiss him, then suddenly paused, amused eyes twinkling.

“Oh yes. Stop by Dr Shaw’s clinic before you leave”. She made a ‘scissors-snipping’ motion with her fingers. “Mr Bin Laden is very thorough. We have to make sure you’re.....authentic.....in all aspects.”

A momentary wince. “The things I do for Queen and Country.”

Green Light
Taking a piece of ice from her mouth, she trailed it from her delightfully cherry lips down her luxurious throat and straight down her C-size cleavage, the red halter-neck dress a perfect frame. She arched her back, sea-salt walking down the iced path. He leaned down, pink against porcelain, turning his own shade of red.

Sweat pouring down his face as his tired body turned around
for what seemed like the final time, staring down his nemesis whom
he steamed towards. The sun was merciless as expected in an
Indian summer. At the height of his exertion, with a
tired grunt, he released the red cherry...

"OUT! Knocked down his stumps!"

--------------
posted on my blog also at:
http://sibin.blogspot.com/2005/12/red-cherry-for-55friday.html

Honey, talk to him. Why me? The sound came from the couch. Won't the school talk to him. You do it.

Chinna, listen I am going to tell you this just once. We do not believe in sex before marriage. But if you ever..

"MOM!!!!" please stop.

No babu please listen to me, "COVER IT"

The Wicked Witch of the West Wore White
Cherry red and just as small, the stains on the pristine 1000-count Egyptian cotton white sheets pleased her husband immensely. He had heard rumours about her wild days, and he’d been afraid his mothers might find the sheet unsoiled.

Little did he know that lipsticked lips licking her lightly stained the sheets with less evidence.

Singh smiled as he took the last four tiles
His board read Q_T_I_K_E_H_J.
The score read SINGH 240 DESI 190
He would play it safe and go for a simple word like KITE.
DESI shuffled his tiles as the word ”URINATE” appeared.He grabbed the red VIMTO bottle tightly as he went for the open D

We have to make sure you’re.....authentic.....in all aspects.

Jai, I wrote a 55 on the fact that this "cutting" is actually preventative against HIV infection, so it is even more relevant to theme. Great 55-set story!

Sweet Revenge
He’d teased her, pulled her hair and slapped her... She walked away from his bedroom glancing over her shoulder, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she noticed the drops that trailed her, blood-red on white marble. His mom would kill him for “redecorating” his room.

Third-grade dynamics had just shifted.

Aw, I'm a sucker for a shout-out, A N N A. :)

Here's my attempt at keeping things rouge.

Kenyandesi,

Thanks for the positive feedback as always. I guess the extra protection is particularly relevant to 007, given his extracurricular activities (all in the line of duty, of course).

Anyway, just imagine Pierce Brosnan doing his thing in his usual laid-back way, and it should bring my 55-set sufficiently to life. He's the incarnation of Bond that I had in mind when I wrote it.

Some racy 55s from you this week ;) Well-written, imaginative, and informative as always, of course.

The warrior was bedecked in the unmistakeable attire of a Nihang; tall conical turban, razor-sharp chakras, multiple swords bristling, flawless steel contrasting with brilliant blue.

He dismounted outside the fortress gates.

“We were expecting an entire army,” frowned the guard, crimson banner atop his lance twisting in the rain.

“Tell them Sawa Lakh are here.”

This does not directly contain the phrase red - but the idea is captured
-----
The very first taste
--------------------
She looked at the life in her arms, a part of herself, her legacy breathing and alive. The baby seemed to smile at her and respond to her voice. She could not hold the tears as the nurse fed the baby some formula. She smiled as she realized that her daughter would have a chance.

The cream coloured walls in the dull engineering classrooms were ordinary, except, they bore marks of history.

It had started as an uneventful day filled with the usual flurry of activities of universities. Then 14 young women had their blood splattered on the ground and the walls.

Blood soaked white coffin shrouds.

16 years ago.

---------------------------------------------
May you all rest in peace

She was contemplating existence when the ashtray crashed into a million splinters on her thigh. “How ironic” she thought, feeling a thousand pinpricks as the invisible shards embedded themselves in her skin like an army. The microscopic droplets of red blotted the goosebumps as she watched, fascinated.
More pieces of glass for her fragmented spirit.