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Category: Fiction

Bookish

Carry You Home

David Meyer can hear the murmur of his injured heart when he goes running. It takes him a couple...

Poetry - The Antidote to Life

Believer

From now on, I will grow quiet, gesture you in for potato soup I made just that morning. I will...

Wayfaring Stranger

Safarnama

About a year and a half ago, someone recommended that I read Dozakhnama by Ravishankar Bal. Read...

Six Word Story

Unwritten letters bled. Words fell off. Entry to the six-word story challenge by Ben Nicholson that I read on the Devilrockz...

Rule of the Thumb

I can’t remember when I became so mainstream. It’s always easy if the tragedy happens to someone else. It’s been taught and re-taught how to sigh and say how sorry you are, or how it shouldn’t have...

How Winning is Done

*Although the incidents of this story are fictional, the premise is from real life.* It was a humid day, and she wiped the sweat on his forehead with a white and blue napkin. The trains stood tired and stared at each other...

Acceptance

As I sped down the highway and watched my thoughts melt over the road, somewhere in my mind I thought he was right. Most of my consciousness was occupied by the rushing of the empty road towards me and me gliding to reach it....

The First Day

Seeking and offering neutral advice is a philanthropic act more than one of authority or rationality. Who’s to say you won’t be swayed by the quester’s feelings and pass judgement in their favour? Or how can...

Enchantment

She made a locus of sparkling youth and brazen dreams around her soul’s polar axis. While others persevered to harmonize with theirs, she danced around her axis in circles of non-conformity. She lay in gutters dreaming of...

Desiderata

A stubborn, arid wind galloped past his ear as he walked on the pavement. Golden stings sent forth by the ball of fire landed on his face. He tried to use his coat to protect himself from the attack, but the wind didn’t...

Dialogue

His eyes are small. He doesn’t look like he walks much. Neither does he look like he talks a lot. His face isn’t one that you can read and know stories of how long he pored over his work to get it right. Or how his...

The Yellow Desk

Her nails were chipped, and she couldn’t align herself to a stream of thought. She couldn’t issue clear instructions to the workers in her office. As a result of which, they did what they liked and almost always fell...

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