They are plotting against us, Mum used to say. One time she called the police, and I heard through the keyhole; my Dad explained that she’s suffering from auditory hallucinations. Schizophrenia, everyone whispered. Throughout the years, Mum used to stand near the bathroom window, grit her teeth, laugh, cringe, cry, and threaten. Dad of course always shielded me and said ...

That Mista Dubald sure is creepy, right? I mean the dude always leaves his house at 9 am sharp, runs two blocks down, bursts open through Dusty’s Coffee Stop, grabs his espresso, runs back home. The kids always laugh and throw insults his way, the neighbors stay a mile away, but everyone unconsciously ignores that Mista Dubald smells like ash, ...

Mr. Stearns walked into the classroom, and shut his ears off to the cruel giggles and whispers his students threw his way. He shuffled up to the chalkboard and wiped away a nasty caricature of him giving head to a dog. He sat behind his desk, and called for attention. That led to all his students to start a cacophony ...

All Marian could do right now was dig into her cup of nut brittle, and settle down on the park bench to read Paulo Coelho. Then she got distracted: the sun shone through maple leaves, and burnished her white skin. She adored the warmth. A squirrel ran up near to her feet, and cocked its head, and sniffed the air, ...

I froze, because I smelled it on her. It was a sweet sickly stink that pervaded my nostrils, and made my eyes water. She is smiling and patting my head now. It has already spread; she’s got 3 weeks tops. All I can do is lower my head, whine, and wag my tail in sympathy.

What do you do when your man brings home a green Corvette after a hard day’s work at the steel mill? Well, you hug him dearly, and go for a spin. You notice a hastily erased streak of chocolate decorating the window sill, but you’re too busy singing to Three Doors Down on the radio. Your man halts to a ...

Once we got home, Dad said that we could choose any room we liked. So I beat Laura to the room at the corner of the north wing. We are decent kids, which is why we shook hands over it, and moved towards the kitchen. Imagine my surprise when the Hitachi 6-door fridge had cans upon cans of ice cold ...

So this is what death looks like, Zilphia thought: blue-tinged lips; blood-matted hair; green eyes staring into space; a dislocated shoulder; and, a stab wound to the heart that has welled up with coagulated blood. The only source of life was a molecule of winged annoyance hovering near him portending an immediate invitation of decay. This body at the morgue ...

During the summer of 1989, Kelsey and I, became brown as berries. While I sipped apple juice, she tried her hand at knitting and pricked her thumb, which then bled a badass crimson. I thought it was pretty cool. I guess we all bleed the same damn color, eh? And it was that color I was reminded of this autumn ...

All he did was stare at the fan revolving fast. He liked the cool wind caressing his baby face as he lay in his cot with his mother smiling down at him. As the days leeched into weeks, he continued staring at the fan turning blindingly fast. Happiness is this, he thought. The only thing that changed ever since he ...

I listen to the dark brooding voice of Buckley and contemplate my predicament. What was once 6 minutes and 34 seconds of artistic despondency that wrung my heart strings like a dirty dish cloth when I was an undergrad is now just a lesson in patience. I’ve got a few seconds to scream at the top of my lungs before ...

The moment he walked into the apartment, I barked out with unbridled indignation: Why?! How could you do this to me? And his reply? Just a shaking of the head before he trundled towards the kitchen cabinet, uncapped the bourbon, and hurled back two gulps. He glanced at me, pouted, and then his trousers slipped down to his bare feet; ...

Laura said that if she ever dies, she’ll let me know whether there’s life beyond the grave; it was just a half-hearted tease to a half-hearted question I asked about immortality. I counted to 40 as she raced around various trees and bushes and hid. We’ve done this numerous times, but there was a morbid sense of unease enveloping me ...

For just a second I didn’t respond to the word Brad. It’s only after I heard the name repeated with a sense of urgency and worry, did I turn around and look at Vivian. I smiled and she relaxed visibly. As I hugged her, she melted into my arms. Poor Vivian. A smile played on my lips, because I know that Brad’s not home today.

This little story features a bottle of red wine with a forgettable name, my wife, our mutual best friend of 18 years — Chris, and my two sons — Cameron and Brad. Thank the good Lord for great friends, I slurred happily, and we all agreed and gulped down more wine. I look at my wife giggling at one of ...

Life doesn’t prepare you for most of the shit it throws at you (that’s for sure). Take today, for example. Your phone rings in your pocket, and you just know by instinct that some serious shit has come up. Dad! — he wails. Mum’s dead, and I don’t know what to do! — he continues, and resigns himself into a ...

It’s been 14 days since the food ran out; in another 2 days there will be no water. Dad said sometime ago that desperation leads people to do terribly desperate things. I probably shouldn’t have asked about dinner tonight, right after saying grace, while holding hands with Mum and Dad. I felt my Mum squeeze my hand a bit too ...

Mama used to say that bad things don’t happen to good people. I wish Mama were alive now: so I could look her in the eye and say that bad things only happen to good people. I mean look what happened to me. Four shots of gin and I’m thinking of how life is like being seated on a speeding ...

The long drive to Ravi Fernando’s home, which was cocooned in the suburbs of Colombo, was an entertaining one. Complete with numerous turns, sporadic bursts of traffic, dead ends, gravel traps, and confused murmurs emanating from the Uber driver, Google Maps itself seemed to lose interest as to where exactly I was. But the challenging journey in rush-hour traffic served ...

I thought it apt to wear a kurtha-inspired shirt that day as I knocked on the tall, black gates of India House. A moment later, as the gates opened wide, I stood dwarfed by the rolling gardens and the vista that housed the Indian High Commissioner to Sri Lanka and his wife. It truly was a scene that took my ...