• English - Romance

    Whispers of Pinewood

    September 9, 2025 - By 

    Aarushi Sen The road curved like a tired snake up the hillside, each turn opening to glimpses of mist rolling down the pines, and Mira Kapoor sat in the back seat of the rattling jeep clutching her bag as if it might steady her heart, wondering for the hundredth time if she was making a mistake by coming here at all, leaving behind the familiar noise of Delhi, the polished glass office towers, the people who used to smile at her in corridors but no longer looked her in the eye after she had broken off her engagement with Rohan,…

  • English - Horror

    The Echoes of Misty Pines

    September 1, 2025 - By 

    Rishabh Malhotra The train wound its way up from Siliguri like a slow-breathing animal, dragging itself through tunnels and ridges until the landscape turned from dust and plains into green shadows and mist. Aanya pressed her forehead against the glass of the narrow window and felt the chill bite through. The air smelled different here—pine, wet earth, smoke rising from unseen chimneys. She had always imagined Darjeeling to be painted in postcards: toy train whistles, Kanchenjunga glowing in the distance, laughter of tourists around Mall Road. But this time, she wasn’t here for postcards or tourist guides. She was here…

  • English - Young Adult

    Chai & Chalk Dust

    August 12, 2025 - By 

    Ananya Pradhan One The mist clung thickly to the hills of Darjeeling that September evening, wrapping the sleepy town in a soft, silver-gray blanket. Outside the gates of St. Augustine’s Hill School, where ancient pines swayed gently in the cool breeze, Anaya Gurung tended the modest tea stall her mother had set up years ago. The worn wooden counter was streaked with years of spilled chai and chalk dust, a testament to its humble history. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the streetlamps flickered on, casting pools of warm yellow light on the wet cobblestones. Anaya moved with quiet…

  • English - Suspense

    The Last Breath of Kalimpong

    August 6, 2025 - By 

    Aaryan Kaul Arrival in Mist The taxi wheezed up the winding hills like an asthmatic animal. Rain lashed against the glass. Ayesha Dhar sat in the backseat, her suitcase pressing against her knees, and stared out at the town rising through the fog. Kalimpong looked like it had never heard of sunlight. The trees bled mist. The road disappeared behind every bend. And everything smelled faintly of moss, burnt rubber, and regret. She hadn’t spoken much since leaving Siliguri. The driver didn’t press. He was like most people in the hills — weather-beaten, wary, and not particularly fond of questions.…