My soul carries an equal amount of disdain for failed shawarma imitations, As it does for poorly cooked lentils and rice. I may have begun to cherish Bengali sweets at a young age, Yet my newfound love for quesadillas is quite a passionate one. Having developed my driving skills under the sultry Gulf sun, … Continue reading Permanent Vagabond
Author: misstinypurple
I graduated in 2016 from the University of Michigan, with an M.E in Energy Systems. Microprose is my forte: a form of writing that restricts word counts to as little as 13 words. I currently live in California, pursuing a career in clean energy, whiling away my time before I can become a full-time storyteller. Some of my favourite things are walking on crunchy leaves, the Marvel Cinematic Universe, fluffy puppies, boba tea, murder mysteries and conversing with captivating humans.
A wise woman once taught me: to laugh often and much, to win the affection of intelligent people, to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better-- that is to have succeeded in life.
Tiger Stripes
My right knee remembers the time I attempted to ride a scooter with you, Whizzing past affronted pedestrians, until we crash landed on the pavement. Below, my calf still begrudges the permanently unfinished stag, That was to keep the mangy black dog on your forearm company. There's wisdom in relenting to the persistence of baking … Continue reading Tiger Stripes
Caffeine Overdose
It was a dark and stormy night, mirrored - if not quite overshadowed - by the acerbic hullabaloo racking through Cole's viscous innards, when at long last, an acrid swell ascended from within, followed by the grotesque expulsion of fetid breath; the heartburn was getting worse. It says purple in its description. Of course I … Continue reading Caffeine Overdose
Butterflies
Yes, we've been standing here, multiple times, Now you're alluring, I'm wondering why. Don't dare approach in your fine leather crimes, You know, yet you reach. How witting. How sly. Silently swooning - yes, cue in the shy, Cue in the wistful, outwardly hostile. Reckon it's too late, to turn back the dial? Dabbling in some … Continue reading Butterflies
Matte Finish
It all started with the eye-shadow. Nina had roped me into a last-minute shopping trip, determined to make an impression at the bachelorette party. While she tried on a dozen different outfits, I inadvertently drifted toward the section of the store that flashed posters of flawless faces and exotic scents. After three encounters with store … Continue reading Matte Finish
Seahorse
Salt speckled his face as he watched the Emerging sun across the ocean. Every Approaching vehicle startled him, but He knew better than to hope for her Orange Vespa to ease the knot in his belly. Resignedly, he watched the Soft snoring bundle in his arms, Embracing the solitude, and her legacy.
Lost in Translation?
Ever since my experience with Stieg Larsson's work of genius, I've been subconsciously seeking out Scandinavian writers, for their unique voices in crime fiction-- even more so because I like seeing the word 'flat' being used in place of apartment. Jokes apart, The Son by Jo Nesbø left me extremely disappointed, and I am at a … Continue reading Lost in Translation?
Waking Beauty
'But I thought—' 'You can't just go around kissing sleeping girls.' 'But the book says—' 'I had no idea you had the certified instruction manual she came with. Do tell me more.' Jacob glared at Will, before turning back to Beauty. 'Should we stick her hand in warm water?'
Should’ve Would’ve Could’ve
The clock strikes seven, daylight's slipping away The TV's been turned down, the dishes washed up It's time for that nightly ritual Another record set on the turntable. Uncork the wine, light those scented candles, Unlatch the back door, step out into the salty air Welcome the creeping chill, sink my toes into the … Continue reading Should’ve Would’ve Could’ve
Charlie Brown
It doesn’t hit me as I wake up curled against you on our last morning together. It doesn’t hit me as I crack an egg against the frying pan for breakfast. It doesn’t hit me as we load your bags into the car, or even as you disappear behind the double doors labelled departures. I … Continue reading Charlie Brown
