Fiction
Uncle Bernie’s House
I stepped into the living room of my Uncle Bernie’s modest bungalow near Islington and Bloor. The banana yellow walls of the quaint room gave…
Section
Fiction
Showing 529-549 of 549 pieces
Fiction
Salt
“… I remembered from the movie that at the end Kiera Knightly keeps getting called ‘Mrs. Darcy’ by the dark brooding guy. So I just looked up that and I got something called Mr. Darcy’s Daughters but apparently he’s not supposed to have daughters yet either.” He led her to the Austen section, in Fiction, in the A’s. How difficult could it be, really? He had heard of that new film from several years ago. But who had two hours to sit in a dark theater, can’t hear anything, can’t talk to anyone, and besides, that is valuable reading time.
Fiction
Josephine’s Bath
“This yellow flower, is called Josephine’s Passion,” she told me, picking a blossom, “did you know she lived on the island, before she went to France, and met Napoleon? So, the flower is named after her, sweet, don’t you think?”
Fiction
The Firing
They all knew who she was. The only question was who was going to do it. No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to say it.
Fiction
The Dress
The sudden death of her youngest daughter so devastated Lily Polowski that she was unable to attend her funeral. Despite being heavily sedated, Lily still suffered from debilitating anguish over the loss of her beloved child.
Fiction
Hero
She had been looking at a copy of Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 9/11, when she looked up and saw him a few feet away, staring at her intently. “You don’t want to get that,” he said, his voice calm but firm, like a parent addressing a child.
Fiction
The Philosopher
‘Hey God,’ he said quietly into the air, ‘I still got that empty feeling in my gut that I told you about this morning. Am I doing the right thing in going to Africa?’
Fiction
Death of a Thief
This was the village thief. What could one say about him? And how much? The best one could possibly say is “Inna Lillahi wa Inna Ilaihi Rajioon” and at least in his death, leave him alone. My mother must have had her thoughts running regardless and this is how her letter read.
Fiction
A Divine Dance
Kamakshi knew she did not quite fit the profile of a person who would frequent such a space. She was a mousy looking middle-aged woman, slightly overweight, with scraggly salt and pepper hair scrunched into an untidy bun. On her nose perched a pair of oval glasses, which were at least five years old, and on the verge of falling apart.
Fiction
The Execution of A Cockroach
The roach began to run with great speed for a creature its size. It had realized that something was amiss, even though it didn’t understand why. While it was executing its escape, thick clouds were rolling in, darkening the sky.
Fiction
Dancing in the Desert
She stood to the side, almost an extension of the tent, enveloped within the folds of canvas waxing and waning in the desert breeze. Only…
Fiction
Fireflies
I first saw the fireflies when I was a girl, on a hot summer night. “What are those?” I asked my mum. “Fireflies!” she whispered….
Fiction
Coffee Break
She called me to the cafe next to my office. In the six months I’d returned from England, I hadn’t seen her at a single…
Fiction
The Yellow Tenement
From the street below, one could never tell that the first floor of #7 Mullick Road was a tenement. This was so because of the…
Fiction
Cast Out
The train stops in the dense night by a temple that stands on a hillock. A Banyan hugs the walls of the medieval temple where…
Fiction
Everybody Has Cancer
Srishti stared at the flurry of activity from the window as she dialed her sister’s number. The bell had just rung in the school right…
Fiction
Of Love and Other Things
While this sounds uncannily like the beginning of a love story, let me tell you that it most certainly is one. Maybe it isn’t exactly the kind of story we’ve spent the majority of our teenage years reading under the covers and wishing we’d have the chance to experience, but it does involve someone I met at an unexpected point of time in my life and fell madly in love with.
Fiction
The Kohl-eyed Muse
Sukanya first chose to remain silent. But if this long journey and its outcome were to get any better, she’d have to make some effort, she thought. So she said, “I’m just thinking about home.”
Fiction
The Wedding March
My daughter and I watched the wedding planner. Ten minutes earlier, a few seconds before we were to enter the chamber where the ceremony was…
Fiction
The Cobbler and The Eagle
The golden-breasted eagle’s home was at such heights that she had to dive several hundred metres to get to work. From her abode on the…
Fiction
Those Silver Anklets
It was one of those times in my life, when I actually had the time to pause and take an account of what my life…