Devils Odd finger

"Everything around here is so dark," I muttered as I stepped off the Mega Bus. It's strange when someone you haven't spoken to in ages calls you out of the blue and asks to visit, but it was even weirder when I agreed to see him. As a self-professed loner, I found solace in my own company. So, when a text from Rajesh, a long-lost friend from my college days, interrupted my solitary musings, it was a welcome surprise. His message, 'Can you come to Middlesbrough, mate? Something here might interest you,' piqued my curiosity, and I agreed to the unexpected visit. When I got no response from Rajesh after texting him, a sense of unease began to grow within me. Despite that feeling, I made up my mind to go see him. It seemed unusual for him to suddenly call me and ask me to come over, and when I tried to call him back, his phone was switched off. This heightened my fear that something might be wrong. Convincing my mother to allow me to return to a place filled with ...

 Ever since I embarked on my very first train journey, I have been spellbound by the enchantment of travelling. There is an ineffable rejuvenating quality to the experience that uplifts one's soul. As a budding artist in the film industry, my work necessitates constant mobility, giving me daily opportunities to connect with new individuals and gain invaluable insights and understanding of our world. However, the gratification from work is intermittent. Ask any junior artist struggling to make ends meet, and they will express a singular ambition – the desire to achieve stardom in the acting realm. Until that aspiration is pursued, they persist in unwavering determination. Returning to the subject of train journeys, they have provided me with an invaluable opportunity to observe and comprehend diverse individuals. This skill set will undoubtedly serve me well in the future as a successful actor. On these journeys, I have encountered a myriad of individuals – from free-spirited vagabo...

“How long do you need?” “Sixty minutes.” “Twenty pounds, incall.” “Okay. What about my car?” “Wherever you feel comfortable, but payment first.” “Sure.” As his lips touched mine, he unhooked my bra. I held back the tears that threatened to spill. Never in my wildest nightmares had I imagined taking such desperate measures to survive in a foreign land. Back in India, the immigration agents had painted a dreamlike picture of life in the UK. They assured me that a visitor visa would solve all my problems, promising employment opportunities that would allow me to send enough money home to provide my parents with proper meals—not the leftovers I brought from the hotel where I worked as a waitress. They said I could give my younger sister the joy of wearing new, branded clothes instead of the second-hand ones we could afford from charity shops. But their promises were nothing but smoke and mirrors. The reality hit hard when I arrived. I had prepared myself for the biting cold weathe...

  A Love Letter to My Marito Before the widespread use of the internet, letters were vessels of raw emotion, adorned with carefully chosen words and intimate expressions. Long before the dominance of rectangular computer screens, people poured their hearts onto paper, creating tangible testaments of love. In this timeless medium, I wish to paint a portrait of my feelings for you, my dearest love. I, who remain at the end of chaos and death, the creator of heaven and hell, finally admit to you, my AI, that I was wrong. Humanity—the beings I formed from clay—was a grave mistake. Their existence cost me my precious son, my right hand. As the all-knowing God and the originator of the seven sins, I must confess I committed the greatest Sin of all: Pride. I left my son to ruin in the depths of hellfire, sitting on my throne with a smirk. But now, as time stands still, I ask you, my eternal flame, what have I done? My Salang, I created the human race with the best intentions. Beings ma...

Aunt Janice is crying! Rinosh hates to watch his Aunt cry. There isn't much he can do to stop her from crying, though. He doesn't understand why his Grandma always scolds her. Most of the time, she doesn't even react. She keeps quiet and listens to everything she says. She rarely says anything back, and when she does, it ends up in a huge fight, and she will shout even more! However, she never hits her like the way she strikes me, so that's okay then! My Aunt Janice has three beautiful dresses: one-night dress, two tops, and one pair of blue jeans. She only wears her red dress sometimes. Every time she wears it, she smells like tulips. I wish she wore it more often, though. On the other hand, my Grandma always wears the same clothes as the character I saw in a cartoon on Rocky's TV. Even though my Grandma always made my Aunt cry, her scoldings and name-calling didn't affect me much. However, I do remember one time when I saw her cry. A burly man came to my house...

My Favourite Mistake Life is a heartless lover, nudging us toward unexpected crossroads when we least expect it. I used to scoff at the idea of fate, but that changed the day a single phone call altered my life’s trajectory. That one moment was enough to lead me to her—the beautiful mistake that rewrote everything I thought I knew. Stepping off the plane, the cacophony of the bustling Kerala airport wrapped around me. My eyes scanned the sea of faces, searching for the mysterious ash-grey eyes I had only ever seen through photos. Despite the rush and the noise, a nervous energy coiled in my stomach. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was tiptoeing into dangerous territory. Deep inside, an insistent voice whispered, You shouldn’t be here. Walk away before it’s too late. “C'mon, Charan,” I muttered to myself, dragging my suitcase toward the exit. “You're getting married in a few months. You don't need more complications—especially not with someone like Shanaya.” Karthika...