Short Stories
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Our story begins at a King’s desperate need of a son. Though his father and forefathers were known to have taken many wives, King Sulaiman II was unmarried. Boyishly he had thought he didn’t need to submit himself to actions that the general populace indulged in. He was the King and thus, above the call…
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In a forest east of the kingdom was a school meant for exceptional children. Though children only from the nobility were considered exceptional, allowances were made for “the others.” And though the others were treated with bare-minimum respect, they made up for the less than ideal circumstances by bullying the nobility thus restoring balance. Now…
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It all began with a clip I saw of Graham Norton where Stephen Fry talked about how we have lost the hearth and we don’t gather around for storytelling anymore. And then I read Norse Mythology, remembering what Stephen Fry had said and I instantly visualized me with a lot of unknown kids, sitting around…
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Anjali sat on one of the chairs, shaking with age. She kept her cane to one side and looked at her watch. As the minute hand crossed 12, two more women, as old, perhaps older – no one really knew because no one was keeping count – sat on the remaining chairs, kept in readiness…
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“Christmas tree, my Christmas tree…” “Sonny, what are you doing?” asked Mother seeing the boy perched on a stool, taping the broken glass. “Who did that? Are you hurt?” “Don’t worry mommy. Billy was trying to get in. But I fixed it.”
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“This is silly.” “Nothing is silly.” “Everything about this is silly! The colours, the jar, the little fountain…seashells? Really? Come on!” “Suchita it is a birthday party…”
