Gopali's Will_THE DINNER_Freedom Isn't Free_A Silver Lining
Catalog Guide:
Gopali's Will
The ship to Dhaka was set to sail along the roaring Padma River. The ilish fish I sold at the bazaar yesterday was just enough to pay for the fare. Accompanied by officials, I held on to the remaining takas in my bag, bundled inside my salwar kameez, along with the will. I had nothing else. I was leaving my home because of a sister I would never know. “I will look after Firoja,” promised Janisha Ghazi Ratna, a lawyer and a close family friend to my Amu and Abu. They refused to come with me.The raging waters swirled underneath, darkened by the rain clouds. A low rumble whispered, like the whist...
THE DINNER
A moonbeam sparkled on the rounded edge of the soup tureen. He had prepared a cold cucumber soup, for the day had turned at 40 degrees Fahrenheit. He was fortunate that a thunderstorm had not built up and that they could have their dinner outside, for he loved the atmosphere in the cool of the evening under the African stars. Two or three lamps hung on the branches of the old Oak, and he would light the candles on the table just now when they sat down as there was no wind. The candlelight would make the dinner even more special. His thoughts ran over the events in his life, and, of course, her...
Freedom Isn't Free
Sarah knew what it meant when she came home from work to find her sister in tears and two men in dark suits standing in their living room. One of the men approached her, badge held out, but she didn’t need to read it to know what it said. Department of Information Integrity. The DII Boys.“How could you?” Lizzie cried. “After what Mom and Dad did to us? How could you do this to me?”“You didn’t have to turn me in,” Sarah said, but she didn’t have it in her to be angry. Lizzie had always been terribly predictable and her familial loyalty conditional at best. She wasn’t malicious, just incapabl...
A Silver Lining
Rapid strokes fill the length of the canvas, the colours mixing in a way an amateur would marvel at. I, however, find it to be less than perfect. Dipping the paintbrush in the reds and oranges on the palette, I try to compensate for the lacking mountains by brightening up the sunset in the background. I end up messing it up further, the greyish hue of the mountains mixing with the sun’s yellow, creating a new shade of disgusting. I throw the paintbrush and palette on the wall opposite me, kicking the legs of the easel. As the wall gets a smear of the disgusting colour and the canvas falls on t...