February 16, 2014

39 Comments

Under the Orange Bridge

underOB_1com - Copy

(It all began here. Read the previous part here.) Paul Barker came from a family of ranchers and cotton farmers, proud of its herd of quarter horses, from the South Plains of Texas. When the conscription act of 1917 came into force, Paul’s father, only twenty then, bluffed his age and registered for military service, in […]

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February 3, 2014

26 Comments

If You go to San Francisco

IfUgtSF

(It all began here. Read the previous part here.) Unknown to Amar, his onerous passage through a Naga backyard was reported by the night-prowlers to the head of the tribesmen. A freshly baptised Christian who had foreclosed the skull-houses of his territory, he decided with a twinge of regret that the intruders be returned to the […]

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January 26, 2014

18 Comments

Planet of Gibbons

Image credit: 20th Century Fox

(It all began here. Read the previous part here.) Part of Vernon’s right foot was gone with the roof of the aircraft. His boot was missing and so were his toes. A limp mass of red and white was dangling flimsily from the ankle, losing blood like a burst drainpipe. Amar had dragged him away […]

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January 13, 2014

32 Comments

Chattanooga Choo Choo

choochoo

(The story begins here) Mark pulled level at three hundred feet. He had flown enough around to know no hollong tree grew up that size, giants that they were. Buffeting was nasty so close to land and it was going to get worse when they would pull up into the mountains. Flying low and fast […]

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January 9, 2014

33 Comments

More Than a Wisp of Fog

San Francisco

Prologue The war was over for those who lived. Those who didn’t, they were still on the battlefronts, crouching in bunkers or planes, or breathing water on the seabed. It was an endless night for the sun never rises when you die. And this was how they’d be remembered, at war forever. He paused briefly […]

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December 22, 2013

34 Comments

Diamonds in the Detritus

boilly-Une-loge-un-jour-de-spectacle-gratuit-1830

I remember how in my childhood time was like a river of molasses where I’d twiddle my thumbs like a noonday fly waiting for my father to return with the promised goodies. Waiting for the monthly issues of comics was a lingering torment -the dates stood motionless like banyan trees, weeks seemed impenetrable like the […]

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December 3, 2013

45 Comments

Writing is So Long

Image Credit & Copyright M.Q.Naufal

As a student of Logic in my younger years, the first two examples of absolutely positive and negative statements I stumbled upon were, (1)   Man is mortal. (2)   No man is perfect. So utterly true are these sentences and so often repeated that they stand eroded of all meaning and gravity, and at times I […]

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November 23, 2013

37 Comments

Exit Motherboard

exitmobo

One fine afternoon a fortnight ago my desktop Titan slipped into a deep sleep, ignoring all attempts to power it on. Having mulled over the lull, the wilting grey lump in my balding skull concluded a malfunction in the circuitry of the cabinet. It had to be that, what with the power button erring, fans […]

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November 20, 2013

24 Comments

Beyond I, Robot

Image credit I, Robot

It was in the early Nineties that I started reading Isaac Asimov. Goaded by lingering childhood urges, I picked up I, Robot, a collection of stories about evolution of robotics, sometimes supervised by Dr Susan Calvin, a phenomenal Robopsychologist, never to look back. The book is also famous for the Three Laws of Robotics, propounded […]

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November 3, 2013

46 Comments

Fungus on the Filter

FungFiltSlant

The opposite of time is memories. Memories, a span with no beginning, no end, no periods, only nebulous swaths of consciousness. Memories don’t tumble terminally like the sand in an hourglass. Or tick away with the finality of the arms of a clock: thud, thud, thud…. They are like the fungus on the filter of […]

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October 27, 2013

42 Comments

End of Dusk

praxilla

The evening is still, the birds silent, the wind dead like a tramp, flopped on a footpath. The sky is dressed in dust and dusk. His lungs cannot pull in half the air they used to soak till the last summer. The pain is boring holes through his shins. It has been welling up for […]

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October 6, 2013

37 Comments

The Cuckoo’s Calling -A Review

Cuckoos

“The dead could only speak through the mouths of those left behind, and through the signs they left scattered behind them.” ‘J. K. Rowling writing as Robert Galbraith’, proclaims a round, black sticker on the volume of The Cuckoo’s Calling, and indeed, that is the reason I have read this crime fiction, seeped in the […]

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