Fiction

My Maturing Experience

By on Sep 12, 2011 in Fiction | Comments Off

When I first saw Amrit, she was sixteen. I was dazzled by her beauty. It was evident to me that God Brahma was in a relaxed, cheerful mood and had spent a long time to make such a perfect specimen. She was the only child of the Thati Village chief, and her parents adored her. She was tall and slim with light brown skin and large brown eyes which could charm a cobra in two seconds. When she sang hymns at the temple, the birds stopped chirping, flies and mosquitoes ended their buzzing, and the congregation froze in their seats. I was in the congregation. I was spellbound, and the hot weather...

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The Weakest Witch

By on Sep 12, 2011 in Fiction | 1 comment

We see a room with wooden floor and walls. The furniture consists of a table, two chairs, a writing desk  and wooden chest. The remains of a meal — a pewter flagon, a plate with some crusts and cheese rinds on it and a folded napkin — lie on the table. To one side, a window lets in the evening light, but due to the poor quality of the glass and small size of the lead-edged panes, little detail of what lies outside can be seen. On the writing desk is a black cube the size of a child”s clenched first. A hand comes into view and places this incongruous item in a small wooden...

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Power Failure

By on Sep 12, 2011 in Fiction | Comments Off

“So, where should we meet?” Dan Roberts asked over the telephone.  “It’s supposed to be a public place the first time, although that seems silly.  We’ve been e-mailing, talking on the phone, instant messaging and trading photos for a month now.” Gloria Redmond laughed.  “So we’ll follow protocol.  How about the Dresden Mall?  Seems about midway between us.  Do you know Ye Olde Coffee Shoppe?” “On the lower level?  North end?” “That’s the one,” Gloria replied. “Sure,...

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The Rescue

By on Sep 12, 2011 in Fiction | Comments Off

It was impossible to outdo Melinda Fireeyes. When it came to doing good, she was the nonpareil. She had sponsored a child in a third-world country. She spent her weekends the denizen of a soup kitchen, passing out meals to the homeless. She worked for a small nonprofit in Washington, D. C., that devoted itself to the preservation and protection of the environment. In her younger days, though she was not old, she had worked in Vista. She attended marches and rallies for various good causes on a regular basis. And that was only the beginning. Harry Greengrass was at a loss as to how to get her...

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Ruby Reds and Baby Blues

By on Sep 12, 2011 in Fiction | Comments Off

Saturday morning, and the sun was shining brightly. There was hardly a cloud present to dampen the rays of light gushing from the robin-egg blue heavens down to the smooth tanned shoulders of the pedestrians making their way along the off-white Plasticrete walks twisting through the city. The sunlight glinted off the silvery multitude of spotless windows covering the skyscrapers along the streets where a few quiet, clean and efficient electric cars hummed along, coated with polish that further reflected the perfect sunlight until the whole city was awash with so much light you’d think God...

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The Mermaid’s Treasure

By on Sep 12, 2011 in Fiction | Comments Off

My grandmother’s old blue bicycle clattered loudly on the uneven dirt road. I wasn’t in any hurry to get to Vera’s, since she never wore a watch, and the dusty, wooden clock in her kitchen ticked loudly for another time zone. I reached my pink-tipped fingers out to grab another raspberry from the bushes as I trundled along. If I’d thought to bring an old ice-cream tub, I could have picked it full without getting off my bike. I popped the berry into my mouth and hummed a few broken lines from a tune that I only half-knew… something about the sea. The road turned, and the...

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