Mourning Mornings
Non-fiction, Ipshita Saha
(4 min read)
The universal search for ‘how did it all start’ fades in comparison against ‘why does it repeat every day, why in Gods name does it not end’.
Sleeping Beauty
By Ipshita Saha
Ashen .I called her ‘Ashy’. She was as white as the sheet that enveloped her. Maybe fairer. Just like me.
She didn’t see me yet. Her tiny little eyes tightly shut. My sleeping beauty.
The Test
By Ipshita Saha
A triangular wave pulse on a string with a tension F is moving in the positive x direction with a velocity…..
To Tie the knot or not
By Ipshita Saha
These relatives are a species of thoroughly concerned people who are having sleepless nights because you are still a virgin and happy.
Mirage
By Ipshita Saha.
Those eyes were staring at me. But it was just those dark eyes lined with a darker kohl. And nothing else. No treasure. No secrets. Not even life. Were the secrets so dark or was it her soul.
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