short story
Fiction / Not talking in a city of loudspeakers
The door didn’t fully click shut. That was an ordinary affair in the house because the door locked to prevent escape. But, by chance or sheer good luck, it didn’t fully lock this time. The click was off. Someone hadn’t done their job correctly. Bloody hell, no one does their jobs correctly in this godforsaken country.
Fiction / Terrible tea, terrible life choices
But I guess Ivan did not choose wisely. It was a series of unfortunate events with him and now, he was stuck with Rebecca–and there was still six hours 46 minutes left in this office cubicle.
Fiction / The Writer
The lad appeared to be very humble and slowly took a seat. But I noticed that he did not take his eyes off my face even once. He kept on staring at me through his glasses.
Review: Literary Magazine / The new speculative literary magazine on the block
Veering off from stories for a bit, Fahim Anzoom Rumman’s “The Secret” was a breath of fresh air. The piece seemed to be a cross between a poem and the kind of fable your grandparents would tell you as a kid to get you to fall asleep.
Fiction / In the sand dunes
His face was growing warmer, it seemed as though the intangible entity that was stinging his closed eyes was growing stronger.
Creative Nonfiction / The graveyard in Banani
Love is the enormous mango tree growing directly from an ancient grave, so old that no headstone remains at all.
Acquaintance
I found a gold pendant which I decided to keep. I wore it around my neck and looked in the mirror. Did my mother ever wear this pendant?
All characters are fictitious
Suddenly, a giant shadow covered up the ground beneath their feet. When she looked up, she couldn’t see the face of the figure until it came closer and sat on the edge of the branch they were sitting on.
FICTION / For a better future
Sentiments are best preserved for people who can pay for extra baggage.
Not talking in a city of loudspeakers
The door didn’t fully click shut. That was an ordinary affair in the house because the door locked to prevent escape. But, by chance or sheer good luck, it didn’t fully lock this time. The click was off. Someone hadn’t done their job correctly. Bloody hell, no one does their jobs correctly in this godforsaken country.
Terrible tea, terrible life choices
But I guess Ivan did not choose wisely. It was a series of unfortunate events with him and now, he was stuck with Rebecca–and there was still six hours 46 minutes left in this office cubicle.
The Writer
The lad appeared to be very humble and slowly took a seat. But I noticed that he did not take his eyes off my face even once. He kept on staring at me through his glasses.
The new speculative literary magazine on the block
Veering off from stories for a bit, Fahim Anzoom Rumman’s “The Secret” was a breath of fresh air. The piece seemed to be a cross between a poem and the kind of fable your grandparents would tell you as a kid to get you to fall asleep.
In the sand dunes
His face was growing warmer, it seemed as though the intangible entity that was stinging his closed eyes was growing stronger.
The graveyard in Banani
Love is the enormous mango tree growing directly from an ancient grave, so old that no headstone remains at all.
Acquaintance
I found a gold pendant which I decided to keep. I wore it around my neck and looked in the mirror. Did my mother ever wear this pendant?
All characters are fictitious
Suddenly, a giant shadow covered up the ground beneath their feet. When she looked up, she couldn’t see the face of the figure until it came closer and sat on the edge of the branch they were sitting on.
For a better future
Sentiments are best preserved for people who can pay for extra baggage.
Them two dogs
I am asked where I am headed. The expression in the lady’s eyes suggests this is not the first time I was asked the question. I stand there, wondering if the pits around her eyes—white as the sun—are caused by the likes of me, and I tell her where I’m headed.
