By: Michael C. Keith No good deed goes unpunished. –– Claire Boothe Luce At an early age, Abdul Karim noticed he could transfer the bothersome floaters that cluttered his vision to another person. It was a great relief to him…

By: Sonali Raj He will go out on his bicycle when no one rides bicycles except dressed in fluorescent; He will go in everyday clothes, take the dullest road, by the ruins idle boys play cricket in, by the city drains,…

  By: Sonali Raj don’t say i used your body …….say liquor women whisky …….husk women liquor city musk, your eyes …….lie about where you’ve been

By: Michael Andreoni I wouldn’t be good. For you. It might begin with a sense of uneasiness as to why I’m there. A suspicion that my character conceals something or someone you wouldn’t like if I were said plainly. But my…

By: Raymond Greiner I awaken to the hydraulic whine of a trash truck. Nearby a massive waste incinerator emits a polluting stench mixing with the incessant rumble of traffic. Detroit, once a grand city is in steep decline with eroding…

By: Siddhartha Choudhury The boy was about three years old, and his large round eyes grew vibrant with delight upon seeing the wooden train engine. He tugged at his mother’s hand and said, ‘I want that engine.’ The mother of the…

By: Sai Diwan The tenacity of the conjunction of Good and Evil has lured many writers to explore this tie. The many implications of this conflict ensure the novelty of each representation, though the genesis of each is the same idea….

By: Kousik Adhikari In 1947, India got freedom from the British raj after some two hundred years of foreign yoke and consequently partition. Partition is such a major event that it can be described as the watershed in not only India’s…

By: Harrison Maxwell Peter Haines The Pastor’s hand slipped through the holy water nimbly, like the babbling tide of blood filled oceans. Baptised in autumn he stands in the rain, droplets sketch his lips and drown his dark green irises….

By William Norris  The lunchroom buzzed in anticipation of Thanksgiving. Don was first, his role to stake out our table. His eyes framed Karen Palou. She’d saunter by, wearing a tight gray dress; her mere scent brushing our appetite to the floor. Some…