Through the Mist, the book that showcases collaborative writing is a collection of five short stories.
Here are the excerpts from the book, one from each story.
A Middle Class Story
Pari is a young, independent girl whose parents are looking for a match for her. But things take a funny turn when she goes on a vacation with her family.
They drove back up from the valley and resumed their journey. It was dark by the time they reached the resort; a 30 km drive from the varnival. Their resort was at the peak. “Hill Top Resort,” it was called. An apt name indeed.
Rehan was driving now. The rest of them were almost asleep. Pari dreamt of her spa weekend. Shan imagined they’d go trekking.
And Rehan, well Rehan only hoped he could somehow stop staring at Pari like a hopeless dog. The group advanced merrily, unaware of the chaos they were about to fall into.
Shan had forgotten to make a reservation.
A Strange Life
Aarya has a strange dream every night-of voices and silhouettes. Where will it all lead to?
She had the vision of her dream
Dark clouds. Strange voices. Tapping of the rain. A silhouette in the dark.
The strange voice tuned to a mellifluous voice. The voice was coming from the direction
of her bedroom. It seemed to be saying… no, singing something.
Yes, she could hear it clearly now.
The silhouette in the dark became visible. An image of a woman singing the lullaby to get Aarya to fall asleep, flitted through her mind.
Languish in Love
Love and Heartbreak in this beautiful story.
Those were the days. The days of
happiness. It was the most delightful phase of my life. When each hour seemed like divinity. When love danced in the spaces between each second. When life was painted with all the scintillating shades of magic.
Rain splashed against the rusty window panes. The tapping of the rain on the roof weaved a pitter-patter symphony. Nature
lightened up with the showers. The vibrant flowers in my garden swayed and the silvery drops adorned the leaves. The garden became all the more iridescent. As the rain cast a spell on nature, my memories cast a spell a spell on me.
The Lone Man
John has lost his wife Sarah. It has been a year but his nightmares won’t stop.
I reach the edge of the cliff. I look below, and there’s water everywhere. It feels like the cliff is floating on top of the water. I get the strange sensation that I am being watched.
Suddenly, a hand shoots up from the waters below. I crouch down to take a closer look. It’s beckoning to me, as if to ask for help. Maybe it is the strange man I saw earlier. Maybe he fell down, and is asking me to help him.
No sooner do I get up to help whoever it is, the hand shoots up in the air and falls back into
the water. And right in front of my eyes, the clear water slowly turns a shade of red.
Another bloodcurdling scream. This time, my own.
Turn of the Tides
Nature is mighty but can it subdue human spirit?
I lumber forward; losing my balance; my hands clawing the mist, clutching at nothing. The cold air hurts my lungs; my breath comes in rasps. I touch the rocks, feel my way blindly through the dense fog that comes rolling out from the sea.
It is hard to be on the shore when the young ‘uns are all weaving nets and getting the boats ready for the journey yonder. I want to be the one going out to the sea, feeling the wind on me, my blood roaring in my veins like them waves all my long, sea faring life.
I cry out as I lose my footing and fall, a seagull squawking hoarsely, its voice merging with the wind. The bad leg sprawls; the red stains the sand, leaving a wet track on this dry day.
Buy the Book from Amazon.