Fiction Park

Letter to a younger self

Dear me of the past, There are so many things I want to say to you, so many advices I want to give you, but alas, I cannot.

Sandhya Lamichhane, Mar 17 2019

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On the edge of love

He never really cared for Valentine’s Day. It was a mere symbol of commercialisation of emotions for him. However, this year something felt amiss, he wasn’t feeling his usual self.

Sarthak Byanjankar, Mar 17 2019

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Maya’s Café

On the yellowish wall was a blurry sketch of Confucius and next to it a fuzzy John Lennon portrait. The liaison of old wall’s faint yellow paint and the numerous wall cracks resulted in a distinct shape, a bit of a cult of Maya’s café.

Bishrant Katwal, Mar 10 2019

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By the river

A few days ago, I received a message from K. It read, “Hey, hey, hey. I’m getting married. December 15 is the big day.

Niraj Thapa, Mar 10 2019

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The fate of dream

Rupesh was on his way to becoming a doctor. He was pursuing his bachelor’s degree in medicine, one of the most costly degrees one could pursue.


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Modern love

Mira started feeling something different and incomplete this time. The ‘ting’ sound of messenger didn’t bring any joy like it did a year ago

Yubraj Parajuli, Mar 03 2019

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An unlikely crush

Even though the whole day, a midsummer day, had been swelteringly hot, the atmosphere drastically cooled off as the fat old sun began to set. The gentle breeze teased the flower buds and the branches of the trees were thrown into a sudden oscillation. My hair, too, was swaying with it.

Pooja Dhakal, Feb 17 2019

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Serving justice

Once upon a time, there lived a family of four; a father and a mother and their two sons. They lived a happy life. But as they say, happiness is nothing but a prelude to troubles. Troubles soon came knocking on their doors. When the younger son was just seven years old, the mother passed away.

Sarthak Byanjankar, Feb 17 2019

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The demented mind

The sound of water running from a tap woke me up from my sleep. I feel a dull headache; I look outside, and it is still dark. I check the time—it’s 2:30 am. My hostel room is a mess; things are scattered everywhere. I get up and make a half-hearted attempt to clean up my room, and midway, I decide to do it later. I go outside my room to the verandah to get some fresh air. It is cold. The air is heavy with silence. Everything is enveloped in  thick fog.


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It is another winter’s morning, standing at the bus stop, waiting for the local bus to Kalanki. Vacantly gazing at the open road, I hear a fragile “namaste” from behind me. As I turn, I come face-to-face with a familiar soul. It’s my dear friend Ramsaran Devkota, so I greet him with a smile.

Corona S, Feb 10 2019

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The Meat God

In the beginning of the end was that desire Swarming, exuberant, wriggling: like newborn maggots

Bibek Adhikari, Feb 03 2019

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Childhood sweetheart

I don’t know from where to start this story. This happened around six years back. I was a very shy eighth-grader back then. I was naïve and a nerd who knew little about the world.

Kantilata Thapa, Jan 27 2019

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