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Category Archives: Short Stories

strangers on the bus

Strangers on the Bus

It was the same routine. Like a daily monotonous job. That part of life we have no control over. And we are forced to sit through it brooding through what our life has become and what would it become. But that unpleasant stream of thoughts

image of a girl surrounded by balloons

Dreams for the Skies

A balloon. Its thread tangled to a Rose Plant. It struggles with the wind. Comes close to being pricked, but rises again every time. Wants to break free. But is tied down by its thread that won’t let go. A sudden gush of wind flows.

image of painting sad eyes

Sad Eyes

I am in a bookstore. Scouring for something to read in my favorite part of it. Fiction. My eyes find “The Old Man and the Sea“. They lighten up. I pick it up, adore the cover for a second. Flip its pages over till I

The ugly life of Precedence childhood image

The Ugly Life of Precedence

There isn’t a body around me. No one I could call mine. No one who could call me his. Seems everything is crouching away from me, cringing its claws into the hollows of self-absorption. I have seen people do that. Forget you! Like you never

love is a drug image of broken love

Love is a Drug You Can’t Really Get Over

I’ve seen you so many times now. I am losing track. Your memories are getting stronger. Instead of getting hazy, they are going conspicuous. Very unusual but I’ve forgotten everything bad about you now. Love does that to you, I guess. Yesterday I had a

writing a letter

A Letter to No One

I can’t forget one particular day in my life. A chapter in my leaflet that made me immensely gloomy when I was quite young. This was way before I was introduced to the concept of love. It holds a special place in my heart because

Image of an Antique Watch Deja Vu

Deja Vu

I woke up with a start. Images from my dream, still fresh, wizened gradually like mist, as I came to my senses. “Hadn’t I witnessed an accident? Wasn’t I driving? Where was I?” Those memories began to fade as I looked up at the clock.

image of cardboard box family for tiny little pricks

Tiny Little Pricks

I woke up in a box. At once felt the oddity around. Tiny soldiers circled around me. They had spears in their hands. They poked me with it. I responded. Stood when they poked me once. Walked when they did it twice. Sat when they