Fiction

I grew up in a pile of books, and for the most preferred fiction to reality. I still believe the rabbit hole exists, and this is my attempt to find it

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In Exile

Rum and coke, everyone knows that’s my drink. It’s usually just coke, with three cubes of ice, and on the rare occasion that rum finds its way in, I nurse it till I can replace it. When asked, I tell them my system can handle only rum these days. It’s the one advantage of not … Continue reading In Exile

The Funeral

The soft scent of lavender wafts out the open cupboard; it crawls under the bed, into the robin-blue Wedgewood vase on the bookshelf, and clings to the blue-white Ikat print of the curtains. Usually Meera finds it soothing, but today, as she stands against the carved door with a hand on her hip, surveying the … Continue reading The Funeral

Intruders in the Apartment

The room is bare; the only sign of previous tenants are the shadows on the wall, ghosts of photo frames long gone. He imagines the resident-family, wearing smiles and spiffy clothes, hanging on this stretch as portraits and group shots; he also senses the undercurrent and irritation left out of shots. It makes him smile. … Continue reading Intruders in the Apartment

The Grainy Video

He is on his knees; his shoulders are pulled back at an awkward angle. She wonders if it’s rope that binds his hands, or something else. Despite the poor lighting she can see the heavy bruises eating his face; there’s a dark patch over his left eye and a lighter one puffing up the other … Continue reading The Grainy Video

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