Dear Readers, I don't think I tell you enough how grateful I am to have you as my readers. It means more than I can ever express. And so, I wanted to share some really good news with you. Three of my pieces recently got selected in an anthology. 🙂 I'm really stoked at this … Continue reading Happy News~ Got Published In A Prestigious Anthology!
(PHOTO PROMPT © Nathan Sowers) ‘Papa, there’s a mirror lying nearby. Can I take it?’ Papa huffed and puffed while moving his writing table inside the cabin. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and stepped outside. I tried pulling his shirt’s sleeve, but my fist could only catch air. Dragging the chair in, he shut … Continue reading I’ll Watch Over You, Papa
(Photo Credit: Anurag Bakhshi) 'Why is everyone laughing at our scarecrow, mama?' Seven-year-old Rick's eyes filled with tears. 'Why do all scarecrows HAVE to wear men's clothes? Just like all the boys HAVE to wear shirts and pants...' Kyra bent down to the level of her son. 'Baby, people laugh at what they don't understand. … Continue reading It’s A Matter Of Choice
Photo Prompt: C.E. Ayr The house looked like a broken tooth that marred the beauty on the pretty face of our dolled-up neighbourhood. The grand villas, the posh apartment complexes, the manicured lawns, the swanky super markets, everything spoke of wealth and progress. That dilapidated house, with its broken doors, mossy walls, and a solitary … Continue reading Decay
Tired after the day’s events, Roy entered his bedroom and glanced upon that old pair of glasses lying on the table. With tears streaming down his eyes, he picked it up, thinking about the number of times he was annoyed at being asked to find it. Sometimes left inside the fridge, sometimes on top of … Continue reading The Glasses
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Ammi prohibited me from touching the crystal bowl kept on the Sharma family’s table. But Mrs. Sharma insisted that my small fingers would be more effective in cleaning it. Her twins were watching Tom & Jerry on TV. Abbu might be back home by now, carrying that disgusting stench of … Continue reading The Broken Crystal Bowl
I held her tiny hand within my palm, my grip might have been firmer than I intended, as she cried, 'Mom, you're hurting me!' I loosened my hold and stood beneath the canopy of trees, looking around me, still in a trance. The basketball court on the other side of the pathway, the small … Continue reading Déjà vu #writephoto