• English - Suspense

    Whispers of the Green Veil

    Arjun Malhotra Episode 1: The Edge of the Unknown The forest began where the last fields ended, as though the earth itself had drawn a line that man dared not cross. From a distance, it looked like a wall of green, dense and silent, but up close it was something stranger—something alive. The trees seemed to lean forward, their branches arching over the boundary, their leaves whispering secrets to the wind. Beyond lay shadows layered so thick that sunlight was reduced to a dim, trembling glow, like the last breath of a candle in a storm. Aranya stood at this…

  • English - Young Adult

    The Sky Between Buildings

    Kyra D’Souza Part 1 – The Rooftop Silence The city never really sleeps, but there are these odd hours when even the traffic feels like it’s breathing slow. Three in the morning, maybe four. You don’t check the clock because if you do, you’ll be reminded that life is running faster than you are, and you’re not ready to feel guilty again. So you let time blur, let the empty streets below hum like background music. On the rooftop of an old building where the paint has peeled into random maps, I sit with my knees pulled up, cigarette unlit…

  • English - Romance

    Monsoon Conversations

    Amaya Rao Part 1: Under the Metro Roof The rain arrived like a rumor that suddenly remembered it was true. One minute Delhi was gray and heavy with threat; the next, it cracked open and poured everything it had onto Rajiv Chowk. The metro announcement dissolved into static. Commuters shrank under bags and newspapers and dignity. Somewhere above, a billboard for a weekend sale sagged, the model’s perfect smile beaded with water like perspiration she couldn’t admit to. Aanya stood just inside the station entrance and felt the rain push its fingers toward her toes. She drew them back, as…

  • English - Suspense - Young Adult

    The Echo Between Seconds

    Kael R. Nakamura The Man Who Didn’t Blink They say the moment you begin to lose time, the rest of you follows quietly. Elias Shin first noticed the distortion on a Thursday, when his breath no longer misted the mirror. It wasn’t a trick of light—he leaned closer, rubbed the glass, even switched rooms—but his reflection stared back unbothered, lips parting, chest rising, yet no fog, no condensation, no presence. Just a face suspended in permanence. He didn’t tell anyone. Not his father who still texted him riddles in Sanskrit, not his friend Jun who managed a Zen café near…