Short Story

By Roshan Tara He was dying. Everyone knew. She still hoped. The letter, soft with folds and years, burned in her coat pocket. Words she’d never dared speak. “I’ll tell him today,” she whispered, hands trembling. She gripped the wheel, heart racing. A curve too sharp. A truck too fast. They buried her with the letter, its truth unread. He died hours later, whispering her name, as if she lingered near. She loved him more than life. He never knew. Some promises scream. Hers sta

By Shashank A.M. By Shashank A.M.

By Vidyuth Balaji Ethan Carter gasped into awareness, his muscles cold and rigid as if he'd emerged from a tomb. He sprang up hastily, drawing shallow gasps of air. The room was sterile, blinding white, and the hum of machines reverberated in his brain. A nurse wheeled into the room, her face expanding in horror. "You're awake," she whispered. The last he could recall was a warm family dinner, his wife Sarah laughing, his daughter Emily playing with food. Then nothing. In an

By Amrusha Acharya The tiny inconspicuous shop by the road overlooking the sea was painted a warm wooden ochre. Through the stylized French windows, one could easily see a number of roses, dahlias, and peonies planted in small pots. You could almost catch the scent of the fresh roses, their petals still clinging on to the dew drops after being watered by the florist. The young florist was like a flower himself, his eyes the colour of Delphiniums and his hair that almost touch

By Anshul Purvia Mira was the kind of girl who found a reason to frown at even the sunrise. If the morning light touched her face, she’d groan that it was too bright. If the rain fell, she’d whine that her shoes would get ruined. If someone smiled at her, she’d call them fake. Every day was a tragedy in her eyes— her life, the worst one anyone could live. She complained about her parents not understanding her, about her friends being “boring,” about how nothing ever went her

By Anup Kumar Jaiswal यह कितना अजीब सा सवाल था जब कक्षा 5 में मेरी कक्षा अध्यापिका ने सभी बच्चों से यह पूछा कि घर का मुखिया कौन होता है, कौन बच्चों को सबसे ज्यादा प्यार करता है और घर को संभालने में सबसे महत्वपूर्ण भूमिका कौन निभाता है? हम सभी बच्चों ने हँसते - मुस्कुराते अपना - अपना हाथ उठाया और जवाब भी सबों के लगभग एक जैसे ही थे कि घर का मुखिया तो पिताश्री ही होंगे क्यूंकि जब भी मुंह खोलो कुछ न कुछ मिल ही जाता है, और सीधी सी बात है कि माँ से ज्यादा प्यार भला कौन कर सकता है आ

By Aastha Gupta When the night feels endless, too short maybe, even before the crack of dawn, all I heard were screams and chaos, throwing off the blanket and running down the stairs is all that is of my memory of that morning, slept at 4, woke up at 5, and between 5 and 10 all I saw was orange flames, fire trucks and a haze of smoke, family crying, cousin stuck up in the balcony and the sounds of glass cracking and air conditioners bursting.  This was my morning on the 4th o

By Prisha Sethi Once upon a time, there was a girl named Dharna who lived in the city of Delhi. She was very beautiful, except for one thing — she had a really big nose. Her nose seemed too big for her face. Everything was happy for her until she joined primary school. On her first day of school, she entered the campus but was blocked by a pretty girl with green eyes and golden hair. The girl laughed and said, “Look at her! Her nose is as big as a potato!” Dharna pushed her a

By Jazzanae Warmsley Set in Tiremoore, a parallel 21 st  century realm where magic governs justice and resurrection is never without consequence. Warden’s Rite (Chapter 1) In the twilight-bound city of Tiremoore, where the sky flickered like candlelight and the laws of nature bent to the will of ancient rites, the dead did not rest as they waited.  Jazleen, the last living descendant of the Warden bloodline, stood in the sanctum of her family’s crumbling estate. Her green rob

By Drishti Dattatreya Rao Nina:   I opened my eyes. Another day. Tiring – I couldn’t even get out of my bed. I rolled over and fell off the bed. Somehow, it broke. Ugh, every day is such a pain. I have to fix this bed after my nine-to-five crappy job. Don’t get me wrong, this job was - and has been - my dream job. But the thing is everything is slowly becoming boring and regular. So regular that even singing songs I loved wouldn’t help. What time is it?  I thought, looking at

By Vishakha Choudhary Phooli was unhappy. She had already been to the well twice today. And the first time around, she had to carry an extra bucket of water at top of her two matkas. The second round thankfully was just the matkas but the third round was a bit much. If mother was not ill in bed she would have considered saying no to her aunty. Surely, Raju could bathe in water from the hand-pump. But saying no would mean her aunty calling them lazy and freeloaders. With mothe

By A.Bhagirathraj To get the perfect goal, you need to float in the air for a few seconds. Yeah!! I’m writing this while watching a...

By Yuen Chan Yoke 袁襯玉 You will age. With every trickle of smoothing serum dripped, And every dewy, plumping face mask disposed of, You...

By Salem Youngblood I was born on a windless day, her first breath fought and strangled in a creaking world of wood and dust, shadows...

By Kalpana Sarmah আজি  আহাৰৰ শেষ সপ্তাহ চলিছে। জুইৰ দৰে ৰ'দটোৱে চকু চাত মাৰি ধৰিছে!  দিনটোত বিজুলী সৰবৰাহৰ  কেইবাৰ যে অহা যোৱা। দেহ-মন যে...

By Nasiruddin Hamid THE winter winds howled through the snow-covered streets of Kulgam, a small town nestled in the Kashmir Valley. The...

By Prabir Kumar Datta Prologue :   Although this is a personal story of my childhood, it also reflects a unique history of the state of...

By Prabir Kumar Datta Rosy was lying motionless on an armchair in the balcony gazing at the late autumn afternoon sky where the setting...

By Prabir Kumar Datta In the early summer morning Sonia is sitting on a sofa in the balcony of her flat crafted with the rays of the...

By Bineet Dwivedy The flight was supposed to be simple . IndiSky Airways Flight 823  had taken off from Mumbai , headed to Paris , on the...