Literature - Page 3

Fictional Arts·Literature

Still We Sing: Voices on Violence against Women

Editor: Sarita Jenamani. Publisher: Dhauli Books, India ‘Guilt is not only for evildoers’ is a line in the poem of Punjab based Nalini Priyadarshni.  But what to do with this overwhelming bad feeling of guilty womanhood, everywhere; East, West, North and in

by Helga Neumayer

Fictional Arts·Literature

Sometimes One Gets Nothing

No endearing book, No kind people, No beautiful flower, Neither a fascinating garden, Nor the sweet-smelling breeze. Quite often even the hands don’t Glow with the mustard of Heena,   Sometimes one gets nothing, Nothing happens that,  Can

by Amita Mishra

Fictional Arts·Literature

The kiss of Judas

For the re-telling of this tale, “The Kiss of Judas”, I made my preliminary notes from the Holy Bible. But I also borrowed some facts from the Gospel of Judas. It is the latter text that mentions that Judas purchased a field

by Sathana Sagadhevan

Fictional Arts·Literature

Breastfeeding

Come my child and feed on these breasts This time maybe my milk will come I’ve removed the scabs, cleaned up the blood The doctor says if you suckle enough My body will answer your hunger Come my child, help

by T.Keditsu

Fictional Arts·Literature

What You Are

I have paid the price For being what I am, I proclaim with pride. I have withstood icy glances, Burning words, entombing silences; Merciless shutting of emotional doors; Smouldering resentment that flashed cruelly Like bloodstained swords in battle;

by Malati Mathur

Fictional Arts·Literature

Free Fall

In the deep recesses of the mind A thought unfurls Like leaves in the sun. Words freefall Leaving me to wonder What is lost in translation.

by Nishat Wasim

Fictional Arts·Literature

Melting Pot

Somewhere over the blue Pacific, I lost my Indian accent it tumbled out of me into the crashing surf I was born again as a true American, a California girl. Grey coastal fog, fields of strawberries and freeway traffic

by Meera Klein

Fictional Arts·Literature

I Interpret My Colourless Drink

 The Painting in graphite pencil is by Artist Anthony Gartmond, New Jersey, USA Pour yourself some scotch. Pour yourself some water. Pour yourself some erudition from the Tree of Souls, and I’ll listen. Pour yourself some ire, some envy, some conceit, and

by Anita Nahal

Fictional Arts·Literature

Zubaida – The Warrior

Prologue The Fork in the kitchen rack knew a dark secret. Something gruesome. Still, the Fork was a forced ally. Aye! that was it. A muted ally. A cold friend who was her solace.  Stealthily, the footsteps would approach

by Fazmina Imamudeen

Fictional Arts·Literature

VHS Tapes

Tapes are the comrades to simplicity.  cassette click. Margherita pizzas our incense. indeed a mouldy remnant of earlier times but the only place left to see long gone family like mufasa from the lion king.   an era of

by Abira Kannan

Fictional Arts·Literature

Sketching A Bird

Turning into text the image of an impulsive act I place it upon the glass table of my cabin While combing my hair a strand falls upon the text. Turning passionately into a bird The text breaks open the

by Firozkhan Jamaldeen

Fictional Arts·Literature

New Beginning

For Happy New Year  I heard last night, Oh it’s time for new beginnings. But I slept before New Year. People wished me a good LUCK, But I slept before New Year. I Ended my Year before New Year, I SLEPT BEFORE

by Barhee Munir

Fictional Arts·Literature

Cucumber Stream

Vellamaathi and her son Thalamuthu resolved to leave the palm garden-at present, there was only the label but hardly for the fact, was there any trace of one such a garden. To illustrate the Palmyra garden and its reality, not even

by Durai Arivazhagan

Fictional Arts·Literature

Régis Debray

The thought of Régis Debray Is not for everyone you know Well, it’s complicated, Each thought setting off Trajectories multiple, Prancing, forward Régis Debray! we who are about to die Salute thee, in the face of Torture, death, impalement, castration The

by Umar Nizarudeen

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Old Mother of Freedom

Push me! Pull me! Maul me! Haul me! I’m old I’m frail Do you reckon I’m easy prey, because my hair’s turned grey? Oh! you slight mighty men Don’t you be fooled you can drive me away! Shame on you! With

by Farweez Imamudeen

Fictional Arts·Literature

Bavarian Inn

In Shepherdstown, West Virginia, over on the side of a mountain, overlooking the roaring waters of a river below and just beyond the meeting of three states in my country, there stands a restaurant serving traditional German dishes with German

by Will Mayo

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Perfume Bottle

The perfume bottle was once, Filled with colourful liquid, Lying down on the dressing table, It once had a life of its own. Now seems empty with empty hopes, Lying down without colour and light, That coloured perfumed water, Vanished

by Neeru

Fictional Arts·Literature

Thandavam

“We’ll be back soon,” as I called aloud, Easwari stepped over the threshold. “I so badly want to join you both and seek their blessings. But it so happens that I just cannot come with you. What can I do,” she

by Vannadasan

Fictional Arts·Literature

Feminism

The advocacy of equality Socio-political, economic, cultural, Radical to aesthetic  And now intersectional In the enlightened 21st century Still laments for  Qahat-ur-Rijal…

by Ayesha

Fictional Arts·Literature

A Whole New World

A WHOLE NEW WORLD  ‘I can open your eyes Take you wonder by wonder Over, sideways and under On a magic carpet ride’    The tabletop fountain in the middle of the warm room calmed her down. Jasmine took a deep breath

by Abira Kannan

Fictional Arts·Literature

From An Old Book

It must have washed up on the shore from the river that dead body. Someone had arranged death  for him. The dead man is walking from the shore towards me. It may take three more minutes  for him to reach me.

by Nasbulla

Fictional Arts·Literature

Ultimatum

I think after a time you stop ageing and time itself enters a zone that is timeless Memories freeze somewhere in the thin air and thoughts are scrambled, losing logic There you move on a path between dying and death Uncertainty

by Mitra Samal

Fictional Arts·Literature

Frozen Harlequins

Crouching on the silent snow Touching the concealed grass below With fingers numbed and stiffened from Encounters with the frosty death,  The women lift their vacant eyes To a mountain eagle in lonely skies,  Each a frozen mannequin  Sculpted form of

by Piku Chowdhury

Fictional Arts·Literature

A Cute Tale Of Mother’s Love

“Will she ever settle in one place and concentrate on learning?”  An expression of worry marked Thalatha’s face. Her small, beautiful eyes with long lashes were sleepy. Her thick curly hair, long enough to fall to her waist, was messed

by Hasitha Adhikariarachchi

Fictional Arts·Literature

Twenty Three Lilies In The Ornamental Pond

“They disappear, They lose their minds, They commit suicide.” “No locusts will come a thousand miles away to devour sin.” 1 Once again, a great loss, but this time Ayya couldn’t bear it. It is equivalent to the pain out

by Karankarki

Fictional Arts·Literature

Two And A Half Knocks

It all started with a simple knock on the door. There was a rule in their locality that you would knock whenever you enter each other’s house. But the knock was unique. One has to knock two and a half times.

by Mir Basit

Fictional Arts·Literature

In The Name Of Blasphemy

It was her first day in the new office after being appointed as Deputy Commissioner. A critical district was assigned to her, with all new people well-articulated rather over-articulated both politically and religiously. It was the first time that a

by Aamir Habib

Fictional Arts·Literature

Thoughts of Color

The audacity of red Spluttering thoughts Like furious seeds of mustard Anxiously tread. A riot of knots  Lurching in my head. Overriding the boundless blue skies Valor, pride and celebrations Colour red emphasize. Beyond these cultural connotations  Red also implies Pain

by Soummya Prakash

Fictional Arts·Literature

One Magical Night

One Magical Night Down in the meadows: On the lustrous green, Sprawled beneath: In the shade of the old oak tree, Surrendered in my thoughts….. My eyes glimpsed: The sweet lilies bloom, Beside the gushing stream: Breathing the scented spray, Profound! As

by Yasomie Peiris

Fictional Arts·Literature

Leaf Whispers

I find him barefoot moon-silvered face tilted to forest canopy scrabbles luminous eyes in my torch beam. Now the lightning eastern sky stirs currawong chords breeze prickles bare skin. I shiver. the slap of his unclenched fist still stings,

by Marilyn Humbert

Fictional Arts·Literature

What’s Wrong With Us Kali Women

There’s nothing wrong. Nothing wrong. That’s your fear labelling us. We are the Kali women. And all other female, male, androgynous gods We don’t distinguish. We seek. We learn. Comprehend. Embrace. We are the Kali women. In the forefront, striding and, yes

by Anita Nahal

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Life Game

Where is my verse? In the atmosphere…? Hiding in snowy mountains? Or, blooming in an oasis? Maybe travelling in An unknown path… Where was my verse? Searched and found The words… Collected them in my Precious heart Along with blooming

by Thenmozhi Rajagopal

Fictional Arts·Literature

Vulnerability Empowerment And Art -Rohini Mani

  Artwork by Women Remains Underrepresented across the world. The unequal representation of women in art history was not a coincidence. Representation of women in Art is undoubtedly connected to the status of women in society. The idea that woman should only

by FemAsia Team

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Snake, The Red herring And A Ramble

It is strange how free one is when totally bound  Feet and fingers working on Unthinking unfeeling unconnected beings oblivious to what the rest is doing Time defeated, curls into a corner  no longer willing to wait the night out

by Reena Prasad

Fictional Arts·Literature

Death

I was at my funeral. My body was wrapped in a white sheet, some of my friends and relatives were standing there and silently looking at my face, of course, they had tied my mouth around my head with a piece of

by Farhan Wahab

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Aroma Of Belonging

The pale yellow Of the wheat field Is stretched out beyond eyesight Poppy blooms in enflamed crimson Skirts along the curved footpath The glistening sunbeams soak my face with warmth Like steamed sweetcorn on a pouring rainy day. The sun has

by Shameela Yoosuf Ali

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Burning Baby

The Burning Baby Twenty days; That’s how old I am. I am lying here on a hotbed, Alone. Burning to ashes; While my mother at home Is still hoping, That I would return home And cry again!

by Farweez Imamudeen

Fictional Arts·Literature

Sad Girl Day

It’s a sad girl day, today I woke up and decided, today That it was a sad girl day It was a sad girl day, the other day too It doesn’t look much better For tomorrow I decided, tomorrow It looks like

by Andrea Simpson

Fictional Arts·Literature

Catalina

While contemplating suicide, as he was frequently wont to do, Ceylon Nathan happened to look closely at the plateglass window and noticed a snail crawling slowly across it. He went towards it and… luckily, it was on the other side of the

by Sathana Sagadhevan

Fictional Arts·Literature

Hindutva As Political Monotheism – Book Review

Anustub Basu’s book Hindutva as Political Monotheism in several ways chronicles the pantheistic strands within Hinduism and traces the genealogy of Hindutva as political monotheism while decoding its political DNA. He opens with Kancha Illaiah’s sudra critique of Hindu philosophy, culture and

by Rutuja Deshmukh

Fictional Arts·Literature

What Was

In the kitchen I stand Tracksuit-clad and blinking As the click of the front door shuts The sounds of the day away.   I snuff the gas And the subterranean gurgling fades to naught As, like a latter-day suburban witch

by Denise

Fictional Arts·Literature

Sea Eagle

On the banks of the Manning a sea eagle high in the conifer balances on a bare branch shreds and devours its writhing catch. Scales, bones, entrails. My hands deep in my pockets, not like early days of love when you

by Marilyn Humbert

Fictional Arts·Literature

Indhira Neelam -The Sapphire

I was restless from the morning. Unable to sense what was bothering my body. I checked the forehead for a fever. The body was cold. But I was scorching inside. Neither a headache nor a body pain. Not even any signs

by Vennila A

Fictional Arts·Literature

Sofia And Inocencio Monteiro: A Couple For All Seasons

December 28, 2020, was the 68th wedding anniversary of my beloved parents, Sofia and Inocencio. My earliest memories of my parents are of my father’s warm motherly embrace and my mother’s great love for reading. In many ways, they defied gender

by Anjali Monteiro

Fictional Arts·Literature

Redemption

REDEMPTION 1 Depression shrouded her as it swallowed her into a realm of obscurity. Its murky belly hid her from the light, and she found refuge in its sludge. Its venomous words were so warm, so comforting. It hissed into her

by Fazmina Imamudeen

Fictional Arts·Literature

Comfortable?

O! My boy, my son, Cradle in my arms. Eyes misty as the winter sky…. Silver tears wet my forehead, why? Bury my face in your precious arms; Mum, I don’t understand. Why, is Dad in the box over there? One we

by Yasomie Peiris

Fictional Arts·Literature

Between Steps

Ancestral fire, flames licking the dreams, Of a knee, low in raised silence, A sunny bud, brooding on black soils, Am the kite, whose string is loosed from the root, Flying, prying, praying, I step between steps like a dancer, But far

by Mbizo Chirasha

Fictional Arts·Literature

Trepidations Of A Past Life That Never Happened

There is a tumultuous thunderstorm over my head, And I’m thinking about how the Universe wanted us to be together so badly she demanded the sky exploded when we had our first kiss. How lemon scented cigarettes will never fail to

by Manar Ali

Fictional Arts·Literature

Izumi’s Scent

“How many times a day?” asked Kobayashi. All the six gathered at the short Japanese table, laughed. The newly married Kashima, hesitated for a moment whether to answer or not. Noticing that everyone was looking at him, in a

by Ra. Senthilkumar

Fictional Arts·Literature

A Ghost Town In The Days Of The Plague

The streets are deserted. All the citizens have fled to the safety of their homes. The wind howls through the gutters. In some distant room a sick lady moans. There is no one to hear her. A few forgotten melodies played on

by Will Mayo

Fictional Arts·Literature

Why Are You Getting The Tattoo Under The Armpit?

—An Extract From A  My Untitled Novel 1. It was a warm August afternoon ten years before, in 2008, that Priya and four of her colleagues from Pavers University reached U Street in Washington DC to find a good and

by Anita Nahal

Fictional Arts·Literature

No Closure

Thou shall not kill Divine command it Is Yet uniformed Armed land forces Will not budge Drunken by smoking Iron in hand Ants more valuable Thou shall not kill We learnt as young As five Yet, land forces fed Off our sweats

by Chinyere Kalu

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Journey She Carved

Motionless, she lay, her crushed visage, the swollen flesh and cartilage of her nose adorned with cotton balls, blocking the air that she will never again inhale. The air of her moist, trampled desires, the putrid air of falsehood and her

by Lopamudra Banerjee

Fictional Arts·Literature

Daughter

Dear Daughter, In our society, women love those group of men who do not take rejection seriously. There is a set of rules and regulations in the society, If a man wants to silence a woman, The respected gentleman rapes her, Not

by Abhishek Bhattacharyya

Fictional Arts·Literature

Chasing Men Around The World

I ask myself- what kind of woman did my mother raise me to be? All these millennials trying to think independent – be independent. I assumed my mother too raised me to be an independent woman of that kind Career woman;

by Kaviru Samarawickrama

Fictional Arts·Literature

Aavaram Poo -The Senna Flower

Having forgotten the travails of summer, all the trees on the mountain started blooming, announcing the beginning of the monsoon. Sometime in the afternoon, Appu recalled that when he was taking the sheep for grazing in the morning,

by Lakshmi Saravanakumar

Fictional Arts·Literature

Fallacy Of A Single Immigrant Mom

  Single mothering is tough. Being an immigrant is tough. Single immigrant mom or immigrant single mom? Yes, I know folks keep saying, “Single mothering is tough. Not good for the child. Not good for the parent. There is no father. The

by Anita Nahal

Fictional Arts·Literature

Vagina Left At Home

You invited me home to discuss my poems. Before I could establish that the ‘her’ in my poem is not me, the last drop of coffee from the cup had been relished. Then, the fourth call from your wife came. You

by Leena Manimekalai

Fictional Arts·Literature

In A Time

There are times when I feel trapped in time. And this is one of those times, the year 2020, a time in the impossible future I expected not to be alive to see, and the month is August and August is

by Thomas A Thomas

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Immortal

I still had two months’ rent left to pay; I told my roommate he could take it out of the advance I’d given.  I packed up my books and clothes in two cardboard boxes. All the CDs, DVDs, and video cassettes of

by Senthil Jagannathan

Fictional Arts·Literature

The American Girl

One day she had a boyfriend. The next day she did not. He had gone his way, looking for another girl. To date, this was her third boyfriend. She didn’t seem to understand how to attract these boyfriends, leave alone how

by Appadurai Muttulingam

Fictional Arts·Literature

Fragility Catwalk

Our fragility is forever on show whether we are aware of it or not. It is the fashion we are always dressed in it, whatever else we are wearing.

by Richard James Allen

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Mathematics Of Mystery

Some novelists are all but born knowing they should write. Some study literature, or creative writing, become experts in the academic form of the art. Some belong to families of writers and words are their legacy.But not me.

by Sulari Gentill

Fictional Arts·Literature

Rainy Day Challah Haibun

It has been raining continuously for three days, but it feels like it has rained forty days and forty nights. An image of Noah’s Ark floods my mind. I want to climb into it with my family. We are four

by Kavita Ezekiel

Fictional Arts·Literature

Flying Is Not A Fear Of It

It will regret such gentle restraint, remorse is always a day behind. It hunches, invisibly — like a sick sparrow’s releasing body, cracked beak, marble eyes, feathers spineless — but can’t be unseen. There is no flight from here, just splinters

by Maeve McKenna

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Dawn Of Smog.

When everyone was sleeping deeply, I was lost in the dawn full of smog. The dawn was pious, but the presence of smog left me confused. Then I gradually wondered about the unusual presence of smog in that beautiful dawn. While

by Sharida Rashid Khan

Fictional Arts·Literature

Eyes That I love

Your crystalline eyes, Deepest than the seven seas Change colour From brown to blue to green From green to turquoise to grey And then to see through glass like They are deep They speak They smile They go sad… They

by Salma Ainy

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Woman I Lost And Hope To Find.

Was it the first slap, The tingle of it against my skin Or the first flutter of butterflies In my stomach, that chased them all away. That embedded them deep down In my subconscious, to be forgotten, To be trodden

by Linda Bandawa

Fictional Arts·Literature

Aliyah Daskal Does Not Miss Her Father

Aliyah Daskal Painting- Acrylic on Paper by Ammar Aziz Aliyah Daskal has a strange memory of a synagogue In one of the narrowest streets of old Lahore: The Star of David engraved on a brick wall And a pipal

by Ammar Aziz

Fictional Arts·Literature

Our Forefamilies

Would we get along with our ancestors? Do you wonder if they’d even like us? We claim that we all come from them but then we expect they’ll take the blame. My great-great-grandfather was paid to go all the way

by Hamish Danks Brown

Fictional Arts·Literature

What Inspires Writers – A Stately Pleasure Dome Decree

My bookshelves are stacked with journals, children’s books, histories, dictionaries, novels, travel guides, philosophy and the thousands of books I read in my youth and continue reading today. I pull out Bertrand Russell’s A History of Western Philosophy. I was

by Susanne Gervay

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Road To Zvegona

Is fading the memory of its son, Who for words must ride the night Fleeing ears that hear thunder on a baby’s purity guggle, Zvegona, my homestead, Ancestors are watching Elders on a scheming mission Trading lies with more lies The

by Mbizo Chirasha

Fictional Arts·Literature

The City A Few Months Later

A seventy-year-old woman who was never allowed to leave home visits a park in the centre of town she sits on a broken wooden bench basking in the warmth of the morning sun around the park residents of the neighbourhood

by Perundevi

Fictional Arts·Literature

On Tabassum My Daughter Stumbling Upon The Word `Consummation’ In A Dictionary

Not for her Ethereal glimpses             Of roseate morning skies   Not for her Tridasan vihaya, the              Crimson trails on the parting of her hair   Not for her

by Umar Nizarudeen

Fictional Arts·Literature

Stripped

Stripped of your beauty, Stripped of your name. Stripped of everything that you thought you would have, Stripped of your freedom to go back to your place of origin. Stripped of the friendship you have with your people, Stripped of

by Sinyuy Geraldine

Fictional Arts·Literature

Anagram

My parents refuse to let me tell them about how the world is ending: the high end stores in NYC are boarded up, and people are lying on the bitumen-laid bridge in Portland in peaceful protest, and people in police uniform

by Devika Brendon

Fictional Arts·Literature

Dystopian And Speculative Literature And Covid-19

The conceivable prescient books, by notable authors in literature, narrated the theme of isolation, community, and love. And in this respect, they are powerfully relatable to our present situation, conveying a hope that we all have been through this

by Hadia Mukhtar

Fictional Arts·Literature

Porcelain Leaves, The Cream And The Green

I admit it, I don’t even like them just bought them on a whim but as my hand closes around each creamy sliced-off stalk end with its cool clasp of overlapping leaves the same pallid green as the porcelain

by Denise

Fictional Arts·Literature

In The Days Of The Plague

When every day is Sunday morning and none of the bells are ringing and all the inhabitants are inside praying to some unseen god that offers no relief from their ongoing sorrow then you know that these must be

by Will Mayo

Fictional Arts·Literature

I Lived Another Day

In those pathless roads In those shoreless seas In the air so mutilated In the sadness of me I lived another day In this world of asininity In this nature of tranquillity In the existence of fatality Off, the humanity

by Mir Basit

Fictional Arts·Literature

An Excerpt From Aloysius the Great

It’s only been a week since Elena stroked my forehead, but it feels like it happened in a different lifetime. I’ve had to call Irwin’s office several times, but when Elena answers the phone, she sounds distant and businesslike. I

by John Maxwell O'Brien

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Art Of Being Alone

Right now, I’ll message loved ones And make sure that they’re okay Then I’ll read Milk & Honey A little later in the day In the night, I’ll start a painting Of a girl with turquoise eyes And maybe write

by Ayesha Ratnayake

Fictional Arts·Literature

And Then She Took A Nap

And Then She Took A Nap She watched as the links grew Like dots on a piece of white paper Crooked black lines scrawling across blue skies Towers like spider webs climbing over pink horizons Cables like serpents writhing under green

by Himangi Jayasundere

Fictional Arts·Literature

Gimara

She was seated on the low bench with a warm cup of kahata the cupped between her palms. She watched the ocean becoming calm with dainty white ripples gushing and disappearing on the sandy beach. The bright orange ball was gradually

by Yasomie Peiris

Fictional Arts·Literature

Reflection and Transformation – A COVID-19 Story.

It’s not very often that I feel inspired to write a story or to express what’s going on in my life. Mostly because I don’t consider myself that great a writer. However, I had the most amazing breakthrough yesterday. Perhaps the

by Jill Langhus

Fictional Arts·Literature

Wild Cherry Tree And A Squirrel

I feel numb broken and lifeless I lay still in bed My legs have turned into  large trunks of a wild cherry tree My room feels snug and safe The dark drapes of curtains of plush mauve are half-drawn to

by Shameela Yoosuf Ali

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Widowed Shoelace

Why would one shoelace break before the other? Aren’t they meant to live and die as one? Were there unseen stresses we did not expect? Biases in usage we could not predict?  Underlying weaknesses we failed to diagnose? At what

by Richard James Allen

Fictional Arts·Literature

Theri Sangamitha

Did you know roots would run through into deep dark crevices of land? of heart? run across breaking boundaries of land? of heart? Did you know branches would spread bear burdens, tears? grant hope? Leaves caressed by dry winds would

by Asela Abeywardene

Fictional Arts·Literature

Selfish Eyes

Your eyes are so selfish…  Full of passion; searching for a sigh of bliss Show me your needs, what can I give?  I know you are all his; an object to please. 

by Abhishek Bhattacharyya

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Pap Smear Test

“Was your partner a virgin before you met him?” the GP at the Medical  Centre asked me. “I don’t know. At least that’s what I like to think…” I answered, puzzled by his question. “Australian couples cheat all the time.

by Hasitha Adhikariarachchi

Fictional Arts·Literature

Street Games

  Thud I throw two red balls at the brick wall of our house. Thud Charlie Chaplin went to France. To show the ladies how to dance First you do the rhumba Then you do the kicks Then you do the

by Moya Pacey

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Maze

On a day like this dawn hauls herself upright pink fingers curling above the rim   on a day like this queuing for basics among empty shelves spilt frozen peas scrunch underfoot   on a day like this navigating the

by Marilyn Humbert

Fictional Arts·Literature

Comfort In The Storm

Do not fear, do not panic: words I keep hearing everywhere I turn. A part of me wants to scream the words, what if! What if I wake up tomorrow and there is nowhere to run to, or I am too

by Daisy Mariga

Fictional Arts·Literature

New Equilibrium

Is it the return of The Black Death? A new holocaust? A cleanse? We are making history these days Living the sci-fi novels of yesterday And I think of all the holocaust movies where the rations were limited Housebound

by Lawanya Wijesekara

Fictional Arts·Literature

Beloved Hallucination

I settle into captivity  with a beloved  hallucination. Bearing a face of lulling  lucid dreams. Our indiscernible torsos collide  in this sanctuary of candlelight  and vapour abiding. Uninterrupted. And I’m falling into this misled  by the desires  of this heart unsettled,

by Shaye Wallace

Fictional Arts·Literature

Kashmir To Corona

Dear Baba, Since you left us, nothing has much changed except that we could not celebrate Bebo’s birthday last year. I forgot to tell you about the postponement of the marriage of your nephew because he was

by Nayeema Ahmad Mahjoor

Fictional Arts·Literature

Kiewa Creek

Sunday, 1 February The day dawns. Sulphur-crested cockatoos shriek as they rise from the trees. Startled kookaburras call out in raucous laughter and baby magpies squawk. By mid-morning, heat and humidity drive the locals to the spring-fed creek that bubbles

by Sharon Rundle

Fictional Arts·Literature

My Turn Has Come

Ending & beginning Naked at last Ocean of fire within Plainsong of the crone A wise woman   a wild woman Undaunted to the last Spitting sparks Exalted

by Kate Forsyth

Fictional Arts·Literature

The End of the Beginning

So at last we made CBS Saw the burnt out rubble at seven Eden on earth that piece of heaven (or so they said) Burnt now, all smoke and loot and sand as the great silence of death fell

by Prakash Mirchandani

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Protector

He always worried about his kids’ safety. It propelled him to make sure someone accompanied them wherever they went, be it school or recreation.  Recently, he had installed cameras in their rooms that were connected to devices so he and his

by Saulat Pervez