Short Story by Raconteuse

“How do you distinguish between being well read and extreme paranoia? Well! I have one answer. One leads to precaution and the other to precariousness. Being well-read makes you believe there is a virus and you need to take precautions. Being paranoid makes you believe that virus is out there to just kill you and will certainly infect you because of a personal vendetta.”  The speaker takes out his glasses and uses the handkerchief lying on the podium to clean it, while the auditorium is filled with laughter of his young audience.    “If you find this funny, you certainly would find my obsession with the words starting with the letter ‘p’ more fascinating.” He lets out a laugh and a few snickers from the audience can be heard as well.   The speaker puts back his glasses and continues, “I have a friend who has read everything about the possible symptoms and precautions that one needs to take to stay protected. He had read various news articles, health department report...

No one can elide the scorching sun outside on a mid-summer afternoon. Sitting in the library at this hour only meant closing my eyes and leaning on the chair, while the table fan tries hard to beat the heat. The library had been empty at this hour for a few days now.  I wondered if I could close the library and head home. This was an inconceivable thought for my parents for they staunchly insisted on abiding by the strict timings of the library. The timings have been 8am to 6pm, Monday to Friday, for almost forty years now.    If I ever avouched for making a strong shift to other viable profiting business options, they bogged me down with the story of my grandfather. I have been told about the magical powers of the library. The dreams and the events that shaped my grandfather’s life, all occasioned from this Cliffsword Library.    My grandfather had started the library in the year 1980. He was only 20 years old when he realized his voracious reading skills has l...

  “Hi! I am Nancy. This is my dog Axl. We live in the building just next to your house. We heard some commotion around your house yesterday. We enquired and got to know that somebody died. I am so sorry for your loss.” The man continued to pet me and said, “Yes. It was my father who passed away. My sister and I are all that is left now. I decided to take a walk around because I cannot be in the house without him. But how do you know that was my house?” Nancy plainly replied, "I saw you walk out of that house. I have been sitting in the park for quite sometime now." He had tears but I could sense by petting me his pain was being assuaged and so I did not relent. I sat down with my head on his lap. Nancy said, “I am truly and deeply sorry for your loss.” He looked up to her and saw genuineness in her eyes. The quaint garden which was usually lit by the cachinnation of children, now looked sullen to me. The background is morose and this man is just crestfallen. He said, “I am Ru...