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Twin Quill

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Pen Stories

Two Hearts

(For the following story, I used a prompt from the Write India campaign. The bold-italicised paragraphs were mandatory to use.)

‘Are you sure, Rhea?’ asks my mother.

‘Of course I’m. Survival of the fittest, mother. I’m not going against Darwin. Also I don’t want unnecessary scars on my body.’

Continue reading “Two Hearts”

Why do I read?

Twin Quill

I became a part of books and books became an indispensable part of me ever since I was a little girl. Every time my father came home from one of his trips, I expected him to get me a bunch of books, which he most definitely would. Continue reading “Why do I read?”

Metamorphosis

When I was in high school, I remember myself as a bold and a brazen girl. I spoke my mind without the slightest hint of hesitation and was proud of the fact that there was no pretence or underlying meaning in whatsoever I said or did. I believed that I would be the same girl I was then, all my life. But, how wise could a 15 year old girl be?

We live in a restless world that changes with every breath. 

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Framtidsbiblioteket

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I picked up the pen and looked at the plain sheet of paper lying in front of me. It was getting dark. I turned on the study lamp, too lazy to get up and flick on the tube light. The glow from the little bulb made the paper seem yellow. I sighed. I cracked my knuckles; the sound strangely satisfying. I noticed the cracks that seemed to have made unattractive designs on my wooden table. I rested my head on the neck of the chair and tried to think about the task at hand. Instead, I noticed that the ceiling was cracked and needed re-painting. 

Continue reading “Framtidsbiblioteket”

Unrequited love

The Night.

I was inarticulately and irrevocably in love with it. Everything about it attracted me. The Moon, a symbol of calm; imperfectly perfect, it reminded me of him. The Stars gave the sky a profound glitzy look. I tried to count them, One, Two…..Eleven, Twelve….but probably, there were zillions and gazillions of them spread over the velvet cloth. My eyes stretched to the horizon, the Sky was kissing the Earth. It was something everybody could see, but only some who could imagine it and none who could prove it!

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The winter of her life

The room was clean and airy. The fan was noisy and as it whirled round and round, it seemed as if the squeaking sound kept increasing. The tick-tock of the clock brought the day closer to her, slowly and painlessly killing the night.

Continue reading “The winter of her life”

The Reality Of Nightmares

He woke up with a jolt.

His shirt was wet with perspiration. Breathing heavily, he slowly looked around. The fan had stopped whirling and the lights that were never turned off, were out. It was eerily quiet and he could hear his raspy breath. Darkness enveloped him, penetrating his insides and gnawing him.

Continue reading “The Reality Of Nightmares”

My window of Hope

What do you see when you look out your window?

Do you admire the outside beauty? Or is there a huge pile of dump that you can see in the corner? Or do you see your half-naked neighbour reading a newspaper on their porch while enjoying the cool breeze?

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Something.

Nothing
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We came from nothing and we vanish into nothing. Nothing matters after we die. Nothing helps when we are in distress. Nothing is what it really is. What is nothing, really? Nothing surely is something, I think. Because, we did come from somewhere, didn’t we? Probably the Big Bang or from the higher power or from clay. However, it’s easy to say nothing. Isn’t it?

Continue reading “Something.”

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