Storyy Hut

The sky was a gloomy shade of twilight- a familiar in-between- just like him, Aarav thought, as he sat beside Ishika on the old park bench. He waited, as he had been for the past so many years… waiting for the sun to set on a crimson evening, waiting for an excuse to meet Ishika, waiting for that moment when she might, just for once, see what lurked within the confines of his heart. But years passed and she apparently never did… Ishika leaned in as she spoke about Raj. Lately it was always him. “I mean Raj is sweet and thoughtful” her hands moved through the air as she spoke, as if sculpting the wind “I even offered to wait for him, but I feel he doesn’t get me, you know? Like-Like you do, Aarav” His heart clenched at her words. He sometimes envied Raj for the infatuation that he received from Ishika… that Aarav could never, no matter how hard he tried but Raj reveled in this bliss, which was not his to take. Meanwhile Ishika glanced at him for consolation, and he offered her a tight s...

Rhea’s stomach fluttered with a mix of anticipation and delight as she navigated through the transient streets of Delhi. Accustomed to the ways of a small town, Rhea had never fathomed as a child about the dreams that this vast city would imbibe into her. Perhaps that was why she left her tranquil home in Banaras to study at one of Delhi’s most prestigious colleges. Those couple of years really did bring her closer to her grandmother before she moved abroad to pursue a promising career in economics. Since then it had been more than two years since she set foot into this vibrant agglomerate and now, finally back, Rhea was more than eager to visit her beloved grandparents. As her cab raced through the chaotic Delhi traffic, every minute felt like an eternity, the longest of her life, until she finally arrived. The house seemed exactly as she remembered it when she had left it, the rose plants nestled amongst the dandelions besides the garage that prided itself in the arrayed car collecti...

Young Evelyn hadn’t set out to be a war reporter. In early 1940s, women seldom did so, but young Evelyn was different. She was a budding journalist, eager and ambitious yet confined to writing human interest stories for the morning daily. She had grown up in a household where current events and world affairs were freely discussed over dinner. Often she would hear the stories of the Great War and chafe at the limitations placed on her by the virtue of her gender. She yearned to cover the stories that mattered, stories that shaped the world. In pursuit of this cause, she repeatedly applied for overseas assignments but was only met with rejection. “The front line is a cruel place, one not for a woman” she’d often hear the editor say but her tenacity knew no bounds. She was driven by a belief to tell the war-bound tales from where the bombs fell and lives were torn apart. Her breakthrough, however, came unexpectedly. An older correspondent, tom Anderson, was critically injured in a bombard...

My toes wriggled in my boots, a smile playing on my lips as I stood at the entrance of my new flat, the one I’d just leased. From the day I first went downtown with all its vibrant hues and sweet commotion bustling with activity, I longed to move to this part of the city. When I found a decent apartment near the square at an incredible rent, I knew I couldn’t let the opportunity slide. I opened the door to let the musky air out and stepped inside. It was a typical two-bedroom apartment with its enormous white walls begging to be decorated. The place was still empty, but the movers were to arrive any second. It was a modest bargain, understandable given the price, but this prime location made up for it. I turned on the fan and, taking in a deep breath, slumped against the wall. I relished the scene of the empty apartment, my body tingling with a sense of achievement. I had managed to get a place to stay in a decent neighborhood, all by myself. Despite initial apprehensions about the che...

I was ten when my family moved to Alabama. It was my very first summer in Huntsville and as much as my young eyes adored viewing new wonders of this world, I was saddened by the lonesome that I was carrying from the past few months. Moving to a new place was an incredibly unfamiliar experience for me, as was leaving all my friends and familiar faces behind. This upheaval had a grave impact on my mind, making me reluctant to make new acquaintances. This went on for a few months until my parents, concerned about my isolation, decided it would be beneficial for me to socialize with other kids at a neighborhood park and so every other day I went to this park, adjacent to a cemetery, on maple hills… our go-to neighborhood park for our brief stay in that city. That day, a dark overcast one as much as I remember, was my first desperate attempt to meet new people, which I believed was the only way to escape my ordeal. Coming from a place with terribly hot tropical days, the sun never b...

 Year – 2003: Jayant was returning from the cold, picturesque town of Manali after dropping off his passengers, a newlywed couple on holiday. Their incessant stoppages, coupled with the endless queue of cars around the time-honored settlement nestled within the enchanting Himalayas, meant he had to depart at dusk. The crimson hue of the sunset was a sweet foreboding of the imminent hours of darkness and the menacing phenomena that these revered ancient hills brought with them. Jayant, despite being conditioned by his orthodox family, had never been a keen follower of spirituality, but he had heard his share of tales of spirits haunting the woods of these mystical hills. As the path ahead of him twisted and turned, he smiled at the recollection of such creations of the mind. The first leg of the journey went comfortably; he even managed a stopover at a roadside eatery attached to a small motel. There, he met Sajan Singh, a fellow trucker out on a commercial assignment in these l...

Amidst the gloomy parlors and strangulating societal norms of Victorian England, is a tale deep-rooted in a world where appearances concealed dark secrets... one such is the tale of the “syndicate of shadows” and it’s enigmatic leader- Sir Reginald.  Mind you, he wasn’t just another heartless villain but a man so terribly torn between his hunger for power and the weight of hidden vulnerabilities for beneath his mask, the mask of control and power, lay the scars of a tragic past that drove him to the edge to exploit others to such extremes... Ada and Jacob, while seemingly reserved to the role of servants, could not be brushed off as mere pawns. They were indeed bright young individuals with dreams and unwavering hope however these luxuries had been long set aside (but not completely forgotten), to shield their families against the unforgiving business of the world.. Despite Ada’s fragile frame and eyes deprived of their magnificent sparkle, she moved around the house with gra...

The crisp air of Mussoorie enveloped me as I returned to my ancestral home after thirteen years. Memories flooded my mind, especially those of a childhood friend whose laughter lingered in the recesses of my memory. Her image remained vivid—a bubbly girl with lush black hair intertwined into curls framing her rosy-cheeked face. It was the summer of '99 when we shared a tender moment, our first kiss, just before I departed for Delhi, merely a month after my 13 th  birthday. Fate had swept me away, leaving behind cherished memories and an ache in my heart. Returning to Mussoorie, I sought her amidst familiar streets and homes, only to find her residence occupied by strangers. But fate always has a peculiar way of reuniting kindred spirits, I liked to believe so for faith was one of the few things keeping me together nowadays- I sighed. One particular serendipitous day, while lost in the reverie of our past adventures, I glimpsed a figure in the woods—familiar, yet surreal....

As I sat up in bed, the realization of the nightmare's grim reality weighed heavily on my mind, grappling with a mix of fear and curiosity. How could something so hauntingly vivid surpass the realm of dreams and manifest itself in this waking reality? This question wildly swirled around in my brain, pushing me to the verge of losing my mind. My mind frantically searched for a justification or a possibility that could explain this abnormal occurrence but the exercise went futile… I had a plethora of questions but all the just answers seemed elusive. Just then the alarm clock beeped besides me, dragging me out of this trance. “Today is a special day; please don’t ruin it” I reminded myself as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and rose unsteadily onto my feet. The room felt different now, charged with an eerie energy that made my skin prickle with unease. By the time I had freshened up and put-on the baggiest pullover I owned to hide my bruised-up wrist, a marvelous odo...