Short Stories

The Dawn

“Is life the same for you?” she asked the cat who had wandered to her abode, now eating on that day’s leftovers. It looked at her, at first wary, then in a meek voice asked for more. Aria threw the last piece of bread with no regrets, for she was old and worn and needed little food. For this little cat, the world consists of food and survival. There is no love in its glance, no passion, no anger, just desire. She had seen the same look in many human eyes, even in her own when she glanced at herself in the mirror.

The cat now, disinterested in Aria, looked for someplace else in hopes to find some element of interest. It bounded off after the poor squirrel who had the misfortune of being sighted by the sharp eyes of the little cat. Aria watched as the little cat played with her prey, so treacherous its game, never letting the poor squirrel go…

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Prologue

Arlo could no longer see, the darkness had blended in so well; it seemed to him that only darkness was devoid of fragility, that only darkness had the solidity of a change-bringer. A soft whisper of movement slowed him to a stop, as a voice uttered a single word, “We.” But then it came from another and another and soon everywhere there was an echo, an echo which shook the heart, which moved mountains, which stilled the storms. It was an echo of creation, of the beginning and the ending, of the world and the universe. It was the voice of the Living.

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The Twilight Tree

The tree flinched as a cloud of bats crashed against him, startling him. He abhorred bats and everything of night’s kingdom. The nights were always lonely; he could never hear the songs or witness small fights. There was no hustle and bustle, no light just silence and stars in the dark sky witnessing his fear, never speaking, never moving. Night became worse with each minute, darkness darkened, silence increased and his fear heightened. Cold breeze whispered like a ghost in his ear and pale shadows played everywhere in his sight. How could he not be scared?

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The Pedestrian

“Your story is as true as it is soulful…life is all you talked about…and life molds a man into nothing or something, but it is the man who chooses to accept what he is molded into. You were molded into something, something evil, indeed…

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The Silent Castle

“A shooting star!”, my sister breathed. I looked up.

“Make a wish”, I whispered, afraid that the spell would break and the beauty, that had taken hold of us and had made us forget everything, would vanish.

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In a Dream With Death

Thrice the station’s bell sounded and resounded and I found myself standing unaided, holding a bare ticket in my hand, inside a vacant train station. To my fading memory, I remembered leaving my mortal vessel some hours ago but where, I couldn’t recall…

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