The quaint hillside house was larger than it had looked from the outside and the first room led to a wide hallway. She coughed mildly as she entered the aisle, her footsteps disturbing the dust that had settled undisturbed for a long time. The dust was now dancing in spirals in thin sunbeams that seemed to magically cut across her. Her backpack felt heavy, so she slid it off and left it on the ground. There were two broken windows on the west of this long hallway, or maybe it was large enough to be a room.
Tag: Short Story
“She overdosed on sleeping pills! You have been in the room all evening! How could you not?”
“I was watching Beyblade.”
Shillong was really cold at this time of the year. A walk past any row of houses would send fumes of burning coal into the nose-that comforting, slightly toxic smell which was reassuring in the still winters. It seemed the leaves of trees would make a crackling groan when the breeze lightly blew in the evening. The hens were nestled in their coops and the puppies were huddled on old sacks, hiding away their creamy bellies.
The man was arrested because he laughed.
He laughed at a time when laughing had been strictly prohibited. It was an unusual time, when people were not supposed to laugh, or even open their mouths. They were only meant to listen; it was only a select few who would do all the talking while everyone else simply listened – that was the rule in those days.
A Palestinian in the maze of foundations and fellowships, a chilling short story by Siddhartha Deb.
This weekend a short story and a song from Shillong. This weekend we have an old short story, Sweetest of All by Frank Krishner. A…
[For this weekend, lovely story about love and longing in Shillong by Frank Krishner] The darkness enveloped me. I sat on the bench taking in…