Boots on a cliff
Boots on a cliff
Image by LUM3N from Pixabay

I bought shoes for him. They were pretty and comfortable, and when I placed them in front of his door and knocked, he instantly came to fetch them. I saw from behind the kitchen door as he took them inside the room, all while wearing a conflicted smile. A smile that, despite the agony behind it, looked good. It was way too familiar, the only feature he had inherited from his father. The eyes and the nose were of his mother. Our mother. The next day I saw him outside of my room, with the medical reports in his lab…

Hands of a Pakistani Bride
Hands of a Pakistani Bride
Image by Amna Sayeed from Pixabay

Hemayal saw herself in the mirror. ‘For the last time,’ she promised herself. Her reflection showed generations of agony; showed what was generations of trauma. And why? Why had this pain carried on, never once stopping, to her? Why did she have to confront it too? And, and how many of her mothers, her ancestors had confronted the same pain? It should have ended somewhere back in time; should have stopped altogether.

She resisted the urge to look back in the mirror. Hemayal already knew what she looked like. She looked like a bride; she was dressed as one, for…

Image by Lumina Obscura from Pixabay

A few years earlier, I came across this phenomenon called Mandela Effect. I watched theories after theories, the fifteen-year-old me too conspirational to actually research the science behind this theory.
Years later I came across the theory again – decided I should research it and now here we are.

What actually is the Mandela Effect? When masses of people misremember an event or small details about it, it's called Mandela Effect. In extreme cases, people can even remember an event that never actually happened. Yes, crazy.

There are tons of theories as to why this happens. A theory is that…

Image by Mihai Paraschiv from Pixabay

It was alright when you first told me to stay. I had always wanted to push my luck far enough to be just standing on the edge. And that night, your offer was the edge. I was lingering too close to the end; torn between fleeing away and falling.

You poured me a beer. Not red wine; the last ones had always assumed I'd like red wine better. Then, you were singing. It sounded less like a song and more like screaming. When the sun finally came up, you wanted to sleep. You went and never came back. I saw your body slumped on the dining table we’d drank our beer on.

For just a moment, I was glad we’d swapped our glasses.

Such a thought provoking response. Thanks for reading :))

kids staring at a clock
kids staring at a clock
Image by valentinsimon0 from Pixabay

History of Infinity

The concept of infinity was the one that had both philosophers and mathematicians perplexed. In modern times, infinity can be manipulated and used in calculations but Greeks approached it as a philosophical idea.

According to a The History of Infinity by Allen, Donald, Anaximander, a Greek philosopher might have been the first to record the idea of infinity. Apeiron he called it, which means unbounded or indefinite. This happened a long time ago. To put it into perspective, somewhere between 610 C to 546 BC.

It wasn't until the 17th century that Infinity found its way into Mathematics when then…

ambroo on Pixabay

a mini-story

The girls had finally arrived. both of them different from each other, both from places she didn’t quite know about. Places she couldn’t ever visualise.

One stared down at her, the other stood in the corner, awkward.

She had heard stories, had memorised them. Roommates were usually bad. Unpleasant. Would come back late in the morning, talk all night. Steal your money, your things. The girls out in the world were predatory. And out in the world she was, finally living on her own.

But these girls, both beautiful in their own way, didn’t at all look evil. …

Two candles with flickering flames
Two candles with flickering flames
Pexels on Pixaby

micro fiction

House smelled heavily of guilt. Of Smoke. I navigated my way through the hall, saw just a flicker of light coming from the slit and groped for the door handle. Found it. I twisted the handle, threw it open. More smoke in. It burned my lungs, boiled my blood.

I coughed.

My wife stood behind the flames, her back facing me. An enticing sorcerer in the dark. She looked too beautiful, black hugging her waist and the dress dancing around her body. Flames, but she ignited more in me.

“What are you doing love?” I asked.

Something changed in the air, something shifted. She tilted her head towards me, smiled. Her eyes gleamed.

She glided towards me and kissed my cheek.

“Nothing.” She whispered, but ashes smeared my cheek.

Free-Photos on Pixaby

She wished she could end it.

End the night, not just for herself but for those around her. It was doing her no good, staying up like this and that too alone, while everyone she was acquainted with danced with dance partners, with their lovers, with friends.

Leaving her alone.

She leaned back against the railing, her dress flowing down her legs, wind playing with it. Moon shone on her and all she could see in the moonlight was him. He too was alone, he himself was leaning, although against the wall.

And just like always, he looked handsome. Handsome…

A Short Story

The Room Un Numbered
The Room Un Numbered
sw_reg_03 on Pixaby

They’d been talking for a while now. Telling her all she would have eventually found out herself.

I stood next to her room and listened too, although what the girls were narrating was far more applicable to her than me. It’s not like I was being haunted.

1997. That’s where the story started, the girls told Cathy who looked very little and very pale even before they had gotten to the horrifying part. A girl not much different than ourselves had settled in Cathy’s room that year, enthralled to finally start studying medicine. Jules was her name. …

Uswa Khan

CS Major. This profile has a lot of Contradictions.

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