Echoes of Emptiness_Artificial Paradise_Paternal Stranger_BROKEN PROMISE
Catalog Guide:
Echoes of Emptiness
The grey-scale pavement reflected an unwelcome and gloomy face back at Carlos as he stared down at his feet in dismay. 18 years ago an unfortunate event occurred, an unfortunate event that shunned the cerebellum of Carlos’ temple. For 18 years now he was sauntered the streets in curiosity and neglect. Despite his lack of memory he remembers that the unwelcome event was not something for the light-hearted. Henceforth he refuses to look back to his past and instead perseveres with the present to manufacture the future. A harsh blizzard slashed down upon Carlos that winter day. The rustling of th...
Artificial Paradise
The flower shop looks out of place. Like it doesn’t belong—never belonged. It’s red-brick exterior and dingy windows have certainly seen better days. It’s once-black door now looks rusted and old, like it hasn’t been opened in years.But the neon lights hanging over the roof say otherwise. OPEN is spelled out in yellow letters that flash intermittently.I reach for the door handle and pause. Where are the other customers? Shouldn’t there be people lined up out the door, chatting with one another and admiring the sights and smells? Maybe I’m just too late. That has to be it. There should be othe...
Paternal Stranger
The package, wrapped in brown paper, lies on the porch, uncaring of its surroundings. I wrap my sweater tighter around my body and walk out of the house to be greeted by the characteristic chill of October morning air. Picking up the package, I examine it, noting that it’s slightly heavy. I go back to the house, my feet immediately cold at contact with the floor. Sitting on the couch, I carefully open it, to find a box filled to the brim with letters written in an unfamiliar handwriting, all addressed to me.I open the first envelope andwww.onedoor.cc am immediately engulfed in a familiar scent, though I can...
BROKEN PROMISE
Simran picked up the vegetable basket and hung it to the handle of the perambulator. She made Shina, her ten months old baby daughter comfortable in the pram and started pushing it slowly. It was 12、30 pm ; she had to reach home within ten minutes and make the lunch ready. Her son Ishaan’s online classes were supposed to be over by 1、30 pm. It was mid winter. There was chill in the air even in the afternoon. Delhi in winter is usually beautiful with a lot of seasonal flowers here and there. But the pandemic had been threatening people everywhere. As a responsible mother Simran had taken a lot...