flash fiction

KHERO KHATA / Polychrome

I made my first kite out of white paper scraps; on my 16th birthday, it came to me that they needed a pop of color.

KHERO KHATA / Wash your fruits

I rush to the mirror. My gums are pristine, no wound, no sin. But when I look back at the fruit, the truth reveals itself: the flesh is blackened, writhing with tiny, hungry mouths. The rot has teeth

KHERO KHATA / Egg drop soup

The cream colored bowl held the steaming, almost translucent yellow broth with traces of white, garnished by an array of green onions slashed in an angle.

KHERO KHATA / Fixed

The rain began at dusk, its cold fingers tracing the cracked panes of the house like an unwelcome visitor. By midnight, the storm had grown wild, wind howling through the trees, rattling the fragile bones of the dwelling. I stood before the door, my hand trembling on the tarnished brass handle.

KHERO KHATA / The veil of shadow

He had consistently disregarded the villagers' accounts of bhoot-prets as local folklore. To him, they were just stories to scare the gullible

KHERO KHATA / Mother saves her corpses before lunch

Mother woke before sunrise with the weight of the house pulling at her bones and moved against the cold floor, the chill biting at her ankles. In the corner hung the gutted rabbit, its blood pooling on the floor. Her fingers trembled, as she bathed herself in it, coating her skin red.

KHERO KHATA / The floodlights

Chaos. More chaos.

KHERO KHATA / Dual faces of an unseen predator

In a world spun from the threads of chaos, we are born into a tapestry of shadows. We are shimmering maidens in the night, nurturing within us a fire both subtle and strong. Yet, the air around us is heavy with whispers–danger and desire intertwined.

FLASH FICTION / The exiled daughter

Is it true that when we migrate, we lose a few people from our past?

June 14, 2025
June 14, 2025

Polychrome

I made my first kite out of white paper scraps; on my 16th birthday, it came to me that they needed a pop of color.

May 17, 2025
May 17, 2025

Wash your fruits

I rush to the mirror. My gums are pristine, no wound, no sin. But when I look back at the fruit, the truth reveals itself: the flesh is blackened, writhing with tiny, hungry mouths. The rot has teeth

February 1, 2025
February 1, 2025

Fixed

The rain began at dusk, its cold fingers tracing the cracked panes of the house like an unwelcome visitor. By midnight, the storm had grown wild, wind howling through the trees, rattling the fragile bones of the dwelling. I stood before the door, my hand trembling on the tarnished brass handle.

February 1, 2025
February 1, 2025

Egg drop soup

The cream colored bowl held the steaming, almost translucent yellow broth with traces of white, garnished by an array of green onions slashed in an angle.

October 28, 2024
October 28, 2024

The veil of shadow

He had consistently disregarded the villagers' accounts of bhoot-prets as local folklore. To him, they were just stories to scare the gullible

October 26, 2024
October 26, 2024

Mother saves her corpses before lunch

Mother woke before sunrise with the weight of the house pulling at her bones and moved against the cold floor, the chill biting at her ankles. In the corner hung the gutted rabbit, its blood pooling on the floor. Her fingers trembled, as she bathed herself in it, coating her skin red.

August 31, 2024
August 31, 2024

Dual faces of an unseen predator

In a world spun from the threads of chaos, we are born into a tapestry of shadows. We are shimmering maidens in the night, nurturing within us a fire both subtle and strong. Yet, the air around us is heavy with whispers–danger and desire intertwined.

August 31, 2024
August 31, 2024

The floodlights

Chaos. More chaos.

June 22, 2024
June 22, 2024

The journey

If you travel on a bus, always take the window seat.

June 22, 2024
June 22, 2024

The exiled daughter

Is it true that when we migrate, we lose a few people from our past?