Short Stories

They were his creation and he cared for them like a father should.

People aren’t as good at dying as you might think.

On the morning of the Naming Day, I am up early.

He sat on the bench. Their bench. And watched the birds. And remembered.

She looked at me with wonderful blue eyes.

The target, the target. I had little to go on.

There is a bleached skeleton that holds no marrow

Truda paused at the gate and tried to calm her racing heart.

If there was anyone in the world who wasn’t cursed, it was Sam.

Not for the first time, the solution came to him in the middle of the night

Your thoughts trek to all the points of the compass, but still that twist eludes you

Ideas. That was what it was all about and all it was about