My sister has always been an angel. Her skin was dark and blemish free, the color of the smoothest blend of chocolate. Her legs were long and firm, soft as a leafling. My eyes were a deep brown, darker than my own and sharp like a knife’s edge glinting in the firelight. Our parents were […]
Dear Lover,
It is the crack of dawn outside. The sun is soon going to paint the sky a vibrant shade of blue and conquer the darkness that lingers every night. The Skylarks are going to be awake to spread their sweet song in the air. I could not resist my urge to inscribe my thoughts onto this empty paper.
Alaya was walking back to her place after a tiresome day at work. As she turned onto a street, she heard a noise from behind but found no one thereupon turning around. Shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head, she believed it to be a figment of her imagination and continued on her way. As Alaya turned onto her street, a dimly lit one with just a few houses, she was startled hearing footsteps following her but no one was there. Not thinking much of it, she entered her house hurriedly and continued with her routine. Even when she was trying hard not to think much of the sound of the footsteps, her mind continually wandered off to that very thought. After tossing and turning well into the night, she fell into a deep slumber.
I was always perceived as the envoy of malice; ostracised by everyone and even berated by my own family because I was the child of a prophecy. Unlike everyone else, I was the only one that had to fear my ‘gift’. However, I never felt the true gravity of my situation, until their death. As I took the faces, the stature, the voice, and everything from the people, they slowly vanished from the face of the earth. And the worst part about this unusual murder spree was the fact that I couldn’t have stopped it right at the beginning.
Everybody was rushing about the Central Park of Connaught Place. Police cars were swarming around the park. One side of the circle was completely shut off. A building lay flat on that road.
Home, after twenty years, finally home. She walked into her room, so familiar, yet unrecognizable. As she looked around, she realised how little things had changed back home. It felt like she had stepped into a “time vault” of her own creation, from her soft toys to her artwork as a child, everything perfectly preserved.
This is the story of Amin, a poor African tailor. Amin was a very good man, kind-hearted and loved by all. Day after day he stitched and patched. Sewing clothes was his only means of livelihood. He was quite good at it. One day, he decided to get married. Amin had come of age. Having saved up a little money, he called his kinsmen together and informed them of his desire to take a wife for himself. To his greatest shock and embarrassment, they laughed at him.
(Trigger Warning: Suicide, Injurious Behaviour) This is what happened. Lilith arrived on the island at 3.47 pm and her watch stopped working. The little hand kept trying to move but it felt like something was holding it back, which made it return to that same exact time. It shouldn’t have been weird, but it was […]
The concept of bravery in itself amuses me as a person. If you ask me why it would definitely be the element of ambiguity. What may be bravery for me as a person may be something completely regular for you. The psychology student within me screams of cultural distinctions whenever it comes to dealing with […]
Have you ever had that moment when you suddenly started questioning every decision you had taken? Everything around you feels pointless. Nothing has meaning anymore. It’s like continuously falling into a dark hole without any signs of light. You keep finding answers without having a constant question in the first place. But there always lies […]