FABLE FACTORY | The Daily Star
  • Memoir of a Songbird Named Childhood

    I've always loved painting sunset as it was filled with so many colours. I loved colours. I'd use as many colours as I could to make the paintings alive.

  • Monstrous Scallipses

    Monstrous Scallipses only comes out during the night,

  • Teascape

    Zainab took the cup in her hands and flinched when the heat burned into her fingers. She brought it to her lips, tasting the flavour.

  • Solitude and Company

    The emptiness in all its glorious necromancy Falls prey to silence and its sole command.

  • New game or exit?

    Al drew his last breaths as his consciousness drifted into a cold, silent, yet uncomfortable abyss.

  • You are beautiful, Dhaka

    Today, as I hail a rickshaw and as it slowly paddles across an alley and then flits out onto a busy road, my mother's word echoes along with my little silver jhumkas in the air. And thus starts my game.

  • The Sunset

    The celestial light, burning my skin; Reminding me how to feel, ridding me of all sin.

  • Building of Life

    If it wasn't for the building with the lit up windows, she may have faded into the nothingness that wallowed around her.

  • Bottles of Waves

    Mr. Hakim was a very strange man for three things: he seldom spoke, he always smiled and he sold bottles of waves.

  • Snakes and Ladders

    “Whose face did you wake up to this morning?”

  • The Umbrella Woman

    She would stay around here, in case he came back for it. She decided. What harm would a few moments do?

  • Another day, another dollar

    The day my feet touch the ground from here, she decided at that instant, is the day I finally become a woman.

  • About Time

    She saw something one moment.

  • Old Man’s Beard

    I do not miss going to work, but I miss being young – not like the leftover puzzle pieces from several different sets jammed into one, never quite fitting.

  • To you, Bhatu dadu

    Bhatu dadu died on a Friday morning, uneventfully and unobtrusively, surprising none in the village.

  • What is oomph?

    "I just don't think there is any 'oomph' between us, you know?"

  • Slumber of Intoxication

    A strange incense fills in, Stars veiled by the cluster of clouds.

  • Pori

    The slow motion of the shuttle train along with the breeze feels nice on her skin. At the end of the carriage, some students start singing one of those songs that everybody knows, in their loud and untuned voices, using whatever they have as instruments.

  • Blinded

    A dull thud and a cry from behind her roused Maia from her thoughts. She turned to find a figure clad in black sprawled facedown on the floor of the balcony. The dark-skinned boy was younger than her — in his early twenties.

  • Woe is not me

    He doesn’t smile as much as he used to. Even if he does, it doesn’t reach his eyes as much as it did before.

  • Stuck in Time

    To be completely honest, the kitchen always spooked me after dark, especially if I had to open any of the cabinets under the sink. Who knew what I would witness one of these days in there?

  • It Rains When I Write

    And so it finally rains, it finally rains when I write.

  • Enigma

    What was it like, meeting you?

  • Fireflies

    What is it about fireflies?

  • Shorolipi

    Lipi runs and runs, determined to get as far away from where she started as possible. She could feel all her pain infuse into her tears and stream violently down her face, subsiding that sunken feeling in her chest.

  • The Background

    The fading away seemed palpable to me. It was a tangible rope on a continuous journey of gliding away. A force pushing me back while I tried to hold on until at one point I slipped way back into the background.

  • Quarantine in Two Cities

    The pandemic does not discriminate, whether you live in Dhaka or New York City.

  • Season of the Black Leopard

    Black. Glossy in the moonlight. Its white whiskers asserting an implicit, involuntary dominance. Its supple body effortlessly sliding up and down the teak trees that are abundant here. A shadow – a dark emissary of the night – drifting among the plant kingdom like a fugitive.

  • A Serenade of the Sedulous

    "You know," I said, opening my backpack. "Maybe I will work from here today, listen to your story and write something on it."

  • A Bittersweet Love Affair

    Some stories just write themselves.