Soulmates?

I met a palm reader once who convinced me to let him tell me my story. His readings weren’t conventional - he came up with stories of past lives by reading the calligraphy on our hands. Mukkadar used to be a storyteller but the people needed some catch to sit for a story, so he chose this unconventional palm-reading......

A different time.

Hora was a different twenty-year-old. Of course, she was exactly what no one wanted her to be - the creative kid. She lived in a weird city where everyone had latin names and strict destinies. It was believed that it was important to only do what was expected of you to set examples for other worlds, if there were any. Her name was latin for....

The closet for the stars.

This isn't your 1800s Shakespearean poem. This is the 21s century rendition of the word Poetry. Type: Poem x story-telling. It's on the societal perceptions of being gay. It goes like this: "The '90s weren't easy, but then now is not very different..."

Mud paint and memories.

Beth was an artist. On some days, she would take half-filled whiskey bottles and paint her boyfriend's face on it. The skin would be dark and the nose small, the lips chapped and cheeks flushed. She would color every inch except the small circles in the eyes. She would leave that to the sun and whiskey. It had to resemble his eyes, after all. On other....

A happy puppy.

He reminded me of the kind of love that drowns you. His words always felt like a push off the cliff and his touch felt more hot than warm. But then if I drowned, he'd kiss me till I could breathe again. If he pushed me off a cliff, he'd fall with me and hold me close in an embrace and take the impact....