short fiction

  • The never-ending tale of violence

    In a land far away, so far that you’d need to go by ship and wait until you reached the end of the world to find it, lived a queen who was kind and just. She had many subjects but no advisors. She lived by the principle of ‘Mother knows best’ and more often than

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  • The doll in the mansion

    Patrick and Welma were less than happy when their father told them that they were moving away from the hustle and bustle of the city into a country house. He had tried to explain to them how the merchants with half his value in gold were splurging on such extravagances and he couldn’t be left

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  • The legend of the Bargad

    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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  • The one true arrow

    The one true arrow

    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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  • Three old women

    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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  • The silence was in three parts

    The silence was in three parts. First was the absence of humans and the noises they inevitably make while shuffling in the house, going about their daily business, knocking into things, knocking over things, announcing their presence at various intervals to ensure the household did not forget. The second was the ambient silence. Where usually

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  • It was a bitterly cold night. The snow had been relentless for the past two days and now the world looked like it had been painted white. Two individuals were huddled outside the Croner residence, looking in longingly. Quite ostentatiously, the front door, instead of saying welcome said ‘Open, 24 hours.’

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