The Ledger of Ash and Bone
The success of my first account had lit a fire in me, a hunger for something more concrete than cold spots and fleeting shadows. Three months after that night in...
The success of my first account had lit a fire in me, a hunger for something more concrete than cold spots and fleeting shadows. Three months after that night in...
My name is Arjun, and this happened the summer after my board exams, when I was staying at my grandmother’s ancestral home in a small town in Kerala. The house...
It was the summer of 1982 when my grandfather, a retired railway engineer, invited us to his ancestral home in the foothills of the Himalayas. The village of Kalapani was...
Arjun, a final-year architecture student, and his childhood friend Vikram, who ran a small organic farm, often met late at night to escape their busy days. They preferred the quiet...
In the bustling city of Kolkata, where the Howrah Bridge hummed with the ceaseless flow of life, there lived a young man named Arjun. His obsession with horror was a...
The whistle of the Darjeeling mail was the first thing I heard each morning, and the last thing I remembered before sleep. My father, a railway engineer, had been posted...
The house in Kodaikanal had always been a place of escape for me, a hill station retreat owned by my aunt. But this time, the escape felt like a trap....
Our family had embarked on a journey through the sun-scorched hinterlands of Gujarat, heading towards the coastal town of Dwarka. The air was thick with the scent of saline earth...
It was a humid Tuesday in late August when I started working the night shift at the Meridian Data Center, a sprawling facility on the outskirts of Austin. Most people...
The ferryman’s bell rang out across the gray water on the 24th of June, 2009, the day my mother passed. She had been fighting a sickness that had hollowed her...
The service camp in Chandrapur had been a grind of oily engines and haggling farmers, but the promise of a hot meal and a roadside bar in the town of...
Maya had always been a practical woman, a logistics coordinator for a shipping company in Visakhapatnam, a city of hills and sea. Her job was a blur of docks, warehouses,...
I was seven the summer my grandmother’s cousin came to stay. Her name was Rukmini, and she had come from the village with her two children—a girl of eleven named...
It was my regular summer holiday visit to my mom’s native along with my brothers. Just like every year the summer holidays was fun… We live (family) in down south...
This is a good forum to exchange personal experiences. I am a well educated working woman and was living in the US until 4 years ago, when me and my...
The night was a thick, oily black, the kind that seems to swallow headlights whole. I was driving back from Nasik, my shoulders aching from hours at the wheel, but...
I’ve always prided myself on being a light sleeper, someone who can drift off anywhere, anytime. But that was before the night the sound came. It wasn’t a scream or...
As a boy, I’d fallen asleep to my grandmother’s tales of restless spirits and phantom trains that ran on moonlit tracks. I’d lie awake, straining to hear the whistle of...
I never believed in ghosts until I spent a summer in the old Jenkins house. My name is Arjun Mehta, and my family had just moved to the sleepy town...
It was 3:10 in the morning when the company van turned onto Kestrel Lane, a narrow, unlit road that cut through the industrial district. I was dozing against the cold...
The house on Maplewood Lane had been our home for six months, and I was beginning to suspect it was not empty. My husband, Daniel, a man who trusted only...
I was the kind of man who laughed at fear. Six feet two, two hundred twenty pounds of muscle earned from years of hauling cement bags at my uncle’s construction...
In the sweltering July of 1987, my father, Marcus, was just seventeen. He and his three friends—Leo, Desmond, and quiet Paul—had pitched their tents near the base of the Rocky...
It was the summer of my residency at a sprawling, century-old hospital in Kolkata, where the humid air clung to your skin like a desperate plea. The old medical college...
Listening to the woods...
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