fiction
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Kilney is aping a fish quite well at the moment. The story he has heard is so implausible and yet every day, his head is spinning and he has broken out into cold sweat.
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The bar is sticky to the touch like it has absorbed as much alcohol as it can and is now oozing it back out. Ramshackle is sitting on a bar stool, a glass of daiquiri in front of him. Though it is uncomfortable, sitting with his arms crossed across his chest rather than resting comfortably
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Kilney takes in the quality of the thick white paper, the bold black ink and the absence of a letterhead. It doesn’t necessarily make a contract void but he finds it curious that Ramshackle’s business doesn’t have a name. Maybe otherworldly beings don’t have to bother with things like logos, registration or licenses.
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Ramshackle does not ask for Kilney’s coat or umbrella. He thinks the man would prefer to keep them handy. He notices the way Kilney’s eyes turn round with disbelief at the smooth wooden panelling, the way the air and light pulse with life through the rooms and the general sense of well-being that emanates from
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The door opens with a sigh. Two men stand facing each other. The one holding the door open has a nondescript face but he’s wearing an impeccable suit. It’s well cut, grey and hangs on his frame like he grew into it. The man with his hand extended to knock, looks at the suit and
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Hello. This is a bit of a spoilerish review. If you plan to read the book, this may cloud the way you read it. If you don’t plan to read the book but are curious why the internet has such mixed reviews of it, read on!
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I met Manali in Bombay for a Blogchatter meetup this year and she was kind enough to give me her latest book Heartstrings and Harmonies. I knew the book combined fiction, love stories and of course music. But reading them, especially the lyrics and trying to figure out which song they were from, was an
tales of Suchita 