The Final Judgement

The Final Judgement is a first tale of mine that somehow found its way from thoughts to paper and got published in UNCANNY TALES, a curated anthology of top 15 crime thrillers of Notionpress Short Story Competition. Many people have been asking about the book, to read this story, and every time I shook my head, saying I had already given to someone to read. Exclusively for them, I decided to post it over here. Hope you'll enjoy it.

Myth of The Shattered Isles : The Breaking

Before you read this post, let me tell you something about it. Being a high-fantasy fanatic, I always desired to create my own secondary world with its own myths and legends as a base for my stories. The Shattered Isles is a result of such craziness. Highly inspired from the Tolkein's Middle-Earth, I finally managed to scribble the myth, legends and geology of The Shattered Isles. Now, if you wish to continue, then read on...    

Be Magical !

Magic. The word itself conjures up fantastical images when falls in ears. I don’t know about you, but few images do flash in my head whenever I hear this word - A mighty dragon spewing fire, turning tall towers to ashes. A long bearded wizard, draped in long robes, wielding natural elements to his wish. Or a spell whose incantation with proper cadence can burst a shock-wave, tripling the entire advancing troops. Or, an orb with blooming light that can channel the cosmic energy.

But, is magic really just fictional? 

Lamhe's Memories - The Station Problem

24^th January 2014

Wintry wind ruffled my hair as Dhyey veered his bike left and right over the road. A heavy travelling bag, full of clothes was stacked between his legs. All over the way, I feared the bag would misbalance our bike, and send us rolling. Fortunately, Dhyey managed to escort me safely to our spot for the shoot – Anand’s Railway Station.

Lamhe's Memories - The Shooting @ ADIT

24th January 2014

I bolted upright on my bed as the phone rang near my ear. Heavy-eyed I picked it up and found Taral’s name flashing over it.
 
“Where are you?” He asked directly. No ‘Hello’, no ‘Good-Morning’. Nothing.
 
“Still under blanket,” I said, stifling a yawn.