He had consistently disregarded the villagers' accounts of bhoot-prets as local folklore. To him, they were just stories to scare the gullible
Mother woke before sunrise with the weight of the house pulling at her bones and moved against the cold floor, the chill biting at her ankles. In the corner hung the gutted rabbit, its blood pooling on the floor. Her fingers trembled, as she bathed herself in it, coating her skin red.
Chaos. More chaos.
In a world spun from the threads of chaos, we are born into a tapestry of shadows. We are shimmering maidens in the night, nurturing within us a fire both subtle and strong. Yet, the air around us is heavy with whispers–danger and desire intertwined.
Is it true that when we migrate, we lose a few people from our past?
If you travel on a bus, always take the window seat.
Anyone could see that they were a couple very much in love. Always laughing at each other’s jokes. Finishing each other’s sentences. Name the cliché and you’ll find them living up to it without question.
The love of the city prevails over the love of kulfi
Playing with a location that seems real but is not is a tricky line to negotiate, and writer beware: you will be attacked
The top selections in poetry, flash fiction and artwork for Day 5 of the Sehri Tales challenge; prompt: Remember
The top selections in poetry, flash fiction and artwork for Day 4 of the Sehri Tales challenge; prompt: Shadow
The top selections in poetry, flash fiction and artwork for Day 2 of the Sehri Tales challenge; prompt: Middle
The top selections in poetry, flash fiction and artwork for Day 2 of the Sehri Tales challenge; prompt: Candle.