Archive

By Shireen Khan

And all the alarms are blaring 
and red lights glaring

By Ria Chowdhury

My falling journey you don't want to remember, 
You don't want to write stories for your children. 

By Aarushi Krishnan

‘The village grandma will get Snipped before you do!’ It was as real to us as ghosts or monsters were. 

By Anagha Smrithi 

the evening powders into violet dust,

the sun is distant & dizzy

By Rohan A

As I sit in a corner of my room
smoking the final joint of the day

By Prakriti Basu

They dream while they sleep
When all are but breathing corpses

By Ayesha Ahmed

Kishen breathed out, dejected, as he sat in his veranda basking in the heavily fallen moonlight.

By Akshaya Pawaskar

Seeing in the dark of the dusk
Something bandaged and healing

By Nayanthara S

Meanwhile, catastrophic images flashed across the T.V. screen. There was mayhem and devastation all around...

By Shree Niveditha K

while the cloth covering my chest
shreds into pieces and falls down in...

By Anish Malpani

These giant human-made birds,
These titanium toys that that still light up my eyes

By Shagun Marwah

I hope that someday, you will understand why I had to do this. 
For now, take care of yourselves.

By Akanksha Patra

He constantly fell sick every other day and thus, employed his daughter in his place. Her name was, Jyotini.

By Natalia Nazeem Ahmed

This story revolves around a young woman, a haunted man, and their intertwined fate. Her name was Belle.

By Sriharsh Bhyravajjula

The trapdoor at the back has a rusted lock and a missing screw, and the only tools I have are...

By Kirthika Vijayakumar

Inside, a weary-looking man stood sipping tea, awaiting his last customers for the day. 

By Narisa Wahlang

Ashley lay on the lush green grass enjoying the warm winter sun and the soft chilly breeze that brushed against her face

By Hina Naela

A gentle breeze blew across the rooftop, ruffling my hair. I hopped on to the boundary and swung my legs

By Pritika Rao

Nobody knows how to look at her anymore. She walks down the street to a dark blue wooden ironing cart

By Lakshya Singh

I tighten my hands around her neck, 
We coo and cuddle as languished crows 

By Samra Khan

Your first steps, your first cry,
Hatchlings drop before they fly.

By Namrada Varshini

the holy place of God,
hanging my head in shame

By Utkarsha Anwekar

She used to speak in tongues of the sea,
Harpoon-edge in her voice hidden deep

By Rakshita Gupta

And draws something on my hand
Holding my destiny under the veils of her shroud.

By Muskaan Mittal

as panic floods my parched being,
an army of ants bent on conquest

By Arpit Vaishnavi

The rattling winds were colliding with the window panes and the rain was pouring down in sheets. 

By Rashmi Sharma

Its shine & its piercing blue of royalty
My teary eyes smiled again.

By Anastasia Hugh

By Kajolee Rahate

While she stood there ,

Admiring the beauty of her dress...

By Suhani Rathi