short story
Fiction / The Melancholic Man
The whole courtroom held their breath, waiting to hear Nizam's answer. As he nodded in affirmation, the enraged audience got off their seats to beat up the accused.
Fiction / Wings Across A City Wall
Shimu and Tushar had grown up together on an alley in the Mirpur area of Dhaka city. Their neighbouring houses were separated only by a brick wall, about two meters high. The branches of a tree growing beside Tushar’s house overhung the wall, its foliage shading a part of Shimu’s courtyard.
FICTION / What’s in a name?
He had been practising saying his name out loud every night before going to sleep so that his ears remained accustomed to hearing his own name
FICTION / Mr Moti
The monsoons have passed. Moti has grown so healthy, so strong and so big that no other cocks even dare to be near him.
FICTION / The pond
She walked, entranced, into the water until it reached her chin, the wing of her little pink butterfly stuck out like a shark fin.
CREATIVE NONFICTION / Vinayeki
Oh that angelic call, yet I cannot respond. I cannot open my mouth in fear of the burning pain overpowering my senses.
The Screaming Shorts / Hunt
Talespeople presents The Screaming Shorts, partnered with Daily Star Books and Star Literature.
Fiction / The poem
Ratan Da walked away, waddling the way he came from, whispering, “Don’t let it go to waste, don’t let it go to waste.”
Fiction / The odyssey of a man
A story of an ordinary man and his very ordinary journey.
The Melancholic Man
The whole courtroom held their breath, waiting to hear Nizam's answer. As he nodded in affirmation, the enraged audience got off their seats to beat up the accused.
Wings Across A City Wall
Shimu and Tushar had grown up together on an alley in the Mirpur area of Dhaka city. Their neighbouring houses were separated only by a brick wall, about two meters high. The branches of a tree growing beside Tushar’s house overhung the wall, its foliage shading a part of Shimu’s courtyard.
What’s in a name?
He had been practising saying his name out loud every night before going to sleep so that his ears remained accustomed to hearing his own name
Mr Moti
The monsoons have passed. Moti has grown so healthy, so strong and so big that no other cocks even dare to be near him.
The pond
She walked, entranced, into the water until it reached her chin, the wing of her little pink butterfly stuck out like a shark fin.
Vinayeki
Oh that angelic call, yet I cannot respond. I cannot open my mouth in fear of the burning pain overpowering my senses.
Hunt
Talespeople presents The Screaming Shorts, partnered with Daily Star Books and Star Literature.
The poem
Ratan Da walked away, waddling the way he came from, whispering, “Don’t let it go to waste, don’t let it go to waste.”
The odyssey of a man
A story of an ordinary man and his very ordinary journey.
A night at Hotel Kaalipara
An uncomfortable stillness emanated in the air around Rajpath road. I stood there with my suitcase in my hand, the hair on the back of my neck standing on edge. Glancing left then right, I crossed the road and entered the premises of Hotel Kaalipara.
