Hey guys, welcome to my site 🙂 Here is a short story, give it a read and let me know how much you liked it 🙂 ❤ ❤ I have tried writing it a bit differently, here it goes- Darkness. What? Why? Where am I? Why is it so dark in here? I-I can’t move.
Neurotic – a person who is afflicted with a neurosis or who tends to be emotionally unstable or unusually anxious. Some people are neurotic in nature, they hide it behind their beautiful yet deceiving and cunning exterior. Have you ever wondered, all those actions caused by you, how they are affecting people around you? No,
Hello everyone, I am back with this week’s ‘Masters of Writing Flash Fiction Challenge’ contest. I am so glad I posted it, as many writers came together and took part in it and I thank all of you. Looking forward to the next one people. The challenge is all about writing flash fiction stories in
“Mr. Bose, you look pale after the phone call? Anything wrong?” Uncle questioned the honest looking man. “It was him again, forcing me to get into this business, threatening me day and night to be a part of this drug cartel case you and your little niece cracked a few weeks ago. The channel is
There is a dark presence in every one of us, but we acknowledge to ignore it, boy sometimes that works wonders for us. I am sure you are familiar with a spider’s net, so intriguing in its own way. The curves, the unending pain of the stuck victims, which strikes fear in its prey’s heart.
Was it worth it, the TV interview? I am not sure that was a good idea as I am still thinking about it, what happens when people know who I am and what I do. Well, I will cross that bridge when I come to it, let’s see what happens next. After ghosts, drugs and
A few months back There it goes, slowly mixing, drowning within itself. Red color swirls circle in the water before they disappear down the sink. I stare at my hands and continue scrubbing the blood off them. My skin burns from the constant scouring but the stains remain stubborn, refusing to disappear. They smile at
Deep, deep down, I’m still a child, painting bedroom walls Setting fires after my mother’s death A crazy peril in its most threatening state No idea what’s wrong with me Craving blood as a necessity Here they come one by one To take me away from this gruesome place As the knife fell from my
Bespectacled and plump, Rohit Shetty, appeared more like a stamp collector than a mass murderer. While visiting his family during puja holidays in 2016, the 14 year-old, school going kid read a Dostoevsky novel upstairs while his mom, dad, and sister huddled around a TV downstairs. After he was finished reading he bathed, put on