It struck me one day, one quiet day. It appeared on the right side of the path, though I cannot be certain whether it had always been there. I have only been alive for twenty-two years, and it looked as though it had been standing there since the very first day of life itself.
Read MoreThe single yellow light that dangled from the ceiling overhead began to flicker, disrupting the peace I had finally found. But what else could I expect from an old light in an old storage room that had become musty from decades of disuse?
I concentrated on the pulsing light. Stop flickering, I willed it. Unsurprisingly, no magic emanated from within me. The light’s pattern did not change.
Read MoreThe mirror does not reflect my father’s features.
I cannot see his dark brown eyes, his rounded nose or fixed furrowed brow. I cannot hear his dulcet tone or gentle humming nor the scuffle of his shoes on wooden floors nor the dependable click of his pocket watch going… Tick. Tick. Tick.
Read MoreArpita thought she saw some fishing boats in the distance where the seawater met the gulls and breeze. The boats didn’t wander off, staying at the same speed. She thought of her friends she had known from way back. They would want to see her again, had told her, even in dream-messages. The winds crackled between the palm-fronds and the gulls squawked a fiery message, not on deaf ears. Arpita was on the whitest sands of the long beaches, stuck in a trance made by her brain's galloping thoughts.
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