I’m a Best MicroFiction nominee!
December has always been a wonderful month for me, writing-wise and otherwise. It’s starting to look like this year won’t be any different. Some of you might remember a little… Read more »
December has always been a wonderful month for me, writing-wise and otherwise. It’s starting to look like this year won’t be any different. Some of you might remember a little… Read more »
This place is dark, not literally. It must be around 10 in the morning, but the city is as quiet as a cemetery at night. It sucks the air out of me. This seems like a place where where happiness comes to die. The air hangs thick, as if the sky was filled with viscous tar. I see barbed wire everywhere. The staccato clomping of combat boots is probably the only heartbeat this place has.
This book took me a little getting used to. Like an engine sputtering to life, the characters and events started making sense after the first few chapters. The imagery is so rich, you have to adjust your eyes to the brightness before you can see it.
Present day Jallianwala Bagh with actual bullet marks Pic Courtesy – Dr. Graham Beards on Wikipedia One step, two steps, walk, walk, walk, I chanted to myself, coaxing my legs… Read more »
“Death steals everything but our stories”. The Sandalwood Tree begins with this quote from one of its main characters, Adela Winfield, a ‘memsahib’ living in India in 1857. It’s her… Read more »