Fiction Park

The Light Year Street

She had to get the experience out of her system in order to reflect on it. She knew she would fail to make sense of it or let go of it until her thoughts escaped the precincts of her mind

Bonu Manandhar, Sep 16 2018

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The scent of lavender

And just like the wind, she disappeared. She stopped answering her phone, she stopped replying to my messages and she stopped sending me the literary letters she liked writing so much.


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Defected, disaffected pieces

We are in the bad books of the state. In other words, we are criminals who have committed the biggest crime possible. We are marked men and women and should either be in prison or be dead.

RUNA MAHARJAN, Aug 26 2018

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The Lost Generation

For this generation, to cave in was to once again succumb to a centuries old status quo—unjust and no longer conscionable

BIKASH GUPTA, Aug 12 2018

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The Confession

I was born in this city. Most of the people here know me. Well actually, “knowing me” would be an overstatement. Let’s be honest. They’ve either read about me in the papers, or perhaps seen me on television. And, that’s it.

Sarans Pandey, Aug 05 2018

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The lucidity of colours

The bleakness of Kathmandu never unsettled me nor did I ever give it much thought. With tons of paperwork left on my desk, my day was just beginning. I headed down the street lined with dust covered houses and riddled with puddles reflecting the overcast sky. As I manoeuvred through the city, I caught a glimpse of the long line outside the cinema hall. I shook my head, pitying the fools who paid any attention to such trivialities.


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The Stranger

Sometimes I would see the stranger, a silhouette of a man by the window who was, perhaps, also looking at me. I did not wave and neither did he

Kabita Sen, Jul 22 2018

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The Widow

She had been through a lot in life. She could have been anything, she could do anything, but here she was…a nokarni…who had failed to please her maliks

Sulochana Manandhar, Jul 22 2018

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Something to fight for

The clouds gathered in the sky, obscuring the sun and washing everything in grey light. He glanced at the darkening sky, gathered his tools and started walking home. He had shivered all night without a quilt to keep warm in the winter air. This is why he had desperately hoped that it would be a sunny day. In the morning, the sunlight had cut through the mist to reveal a bright and beautiful expanse. But before too long, clouds had gathered and blocked the sun, draining everything of its warmth and colours.

Ajay Mishra, Jul 15 2018

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The Batsman and the Bowler

The 52-inch LED television on the wall opposite the entrance to the recreation room is showing a live broadcast of a One-Day International cricket match between India and England. The room is full of people, but few watch the game.

Sudeep Sonawane, Jul 08 2018

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The Officer

Goloman stood five feet tall and his head was shaped like a potato. For ten years, he had served as a secretary to the Department of Rights and Duties; the appointment for which was acquired by his late father who upon his retirement from public affairs had invested skillfully towards establishing important personal connections with important kangresis.


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