The maestro – a short, short story

He cleared his throat nervously. The spotlight was bright and aimed straight at his face.
In a way, it helped in that it blanked out the audience. It was a full house. People who could not get seats were standing in the aisle.
He tested the strings on his guitar. He had tuned it an hour back and set it to a perfect pitch, but he was now worried.
‘What if a string snaps in the middle of the performance?’
His hands were shaking, ‘Nerves’, he thought.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
‘No one can stop me now.’ he said to himself, closed his eyes and started.

“If you want to sleep, keep the guitar aside.”
His mother’s voice made him open his eyes.
He looked around him, sighed.
He said, “I will make my dream come true!” and began strumming his guitar again.

Catching a Thief – a short, short story

“Sir! finally, we caught him! ” said the constable bursting into the Inspector’s cabin. The constable pushed the scruffy, young man into an empty cell and slammed it shut.
“We found this on him,” said the constable and emptied the contents of a cloth bag on the Inspectors table. Out tumbled an assortment of wallets, gold chains and odd trinkets.
“Impressive !” said the Inspector as he looked at the small heap on his desk. “He looks like he can hardly stand up!”
“Sir, do not go by his looks. There is hardly a bus-stop or shopping mall that he has not targetted.” said the constable.
Both turned to look at the glittering heap on the table.
“Now let’s decide who keeps what,” said the Inspector.
“I want this…”
“I will keep this…”
The young man in the cell shook his head in disbelief and began laughing.