INDImag – Contemporary fiction | Motivational short stories | Social stories | Short story criticism

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Today, she wrote of what she cooked and how people ate, she wrote about her day, she wrote about her little world and how she dared not dream of more. This was her world she thought. Even in its defined limits, she was in charge here ; she controlled some part of the household.

The first time she spoke a word, it didn’t even occur to me to record it or write it down. Her first word could have been anything. I don’t know and never will. The reason being at the precise moment my other one was screaming, ‘Mummy! Help me!’

On a moonlit summer night plunged into darkness by a power cut, our family of 5 sat for a ‘candle light’ dinner. In Rajiv Gandhi’s banana republic, talk was cheap and we spared no expense or effort and every dog had it’s say …

They say “Some people are born great, some people become great, some people have greatness thrust upon them” Similarly some people are born hunch backs like the Quasimodo of ‘Hunchback of Notre dame’. Others through their exertions, taking greater and greater loads on their back, instead of achieving greatness, end up with broken backs. Still others get this backs broken for no fault of theirs. The hunchback in my story belongs to the third kind.

A inspirational short story about a man’s introspection, epiphany at the gates..

vestige of the richer, brighter golden it must have been before. The sofa is placed such that I’m seated with my back to the entrance door. “Weird!” I thought but I figured it must be their idea of making space for all their furniture.

The argument continued, spoiling the mood of a much-awaited week end. Both, the Male and the Female were sitting in their dim lit hall room – their mood and the ambience, somehow concurred.

A Dream, A medal and some Tears

I was juggling a number of ideas inside my head, but one in particular kept screaming out to me. I let out a loud sigh. Yes, I had made my decision, knowing full well that it would probably cost me my life. I slowly reached under the pillow and removed the gun from its hiding place. I’d have to be careful, very very careful.

Have you ever prayed to the God that your Mom would hit you with all her might??? Adi did, on the way to the Home. He was afraid that Mom would explode like a Balloon if she didn’t find a vent to her anger. She didn’t say a word. Her silence became unbearable to Adi. Desperate, he lied, “Aai, it wasn’t me, Aai. Rohit asked me to…” His words fell on deaf ear. Still he continued, “Aai, Plz don’t tell Dad – ” Now Mom looked at him. She was trembling…