Varsha Kewalramani
Bio
“Horror is like a serpent; always shedding its skin, always changing. And it will always come back."
Stories (55)
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From a child’s mind
The ominous click of the door sealing shut was always the beginning. And Peyton hates it. This is when the monster comes Every night. First, that creepy loud click; then the dark inky shadows creep closer and closer to his bed. He jerked his soft blue flannel blanket over his head and squeezes his eyes tightly shut.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
Stuck
“Don’t look under the bed.” Mom said and gave me a good night kiss. “Why?” I just had to ask. “Your favorite question again. ‘Why, why, why.’ Well, you might find something you don’t want there. That’s why. Good night.” Mom left the room with the door slightly opened so I could see the hallway light. Then again in the morning, the light was always off. That spooked me each time when I thought about it.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
Chirp, Chee, Chirp
Timothy’s mother said goodnight, turned out the light, and closed the door. He lay awake in his bed in the dark. The sound of the trees blowing in the wind outside kept him awake just long enough to hear his mother flush the toilet before she retired.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
Behind Closed Doors
“Go brush your teeth, honey.” Red and swollen were her eyes as she said it, her smile sad, her fingers digging into the supple flesh of his arms harder than she had intended to. He didn’t blame her, but he did flinch out of her grip and slipped his sleeve in his mouth, chewing. “Mama will be up in a couple minutes.” Nodding, he clenched his jaw and traveled up the stairs, climbed one step at a time until the fabric of his pajama was wet in his mouth. Focusing on the sounds he made helped; stepping stool scraping against the bathroom tiles, tap water running, bristles brushing against baby teeth, spitting and rinsing. He had gotten better at it—the ignoring. It was like background TV noise now, sort of, loud and garbled as the morning channels that told adult-only news on endless loops. He didn’t really like those, just like he didn’t like this, but he’d picked up the habit of tuning it out. Mama had taught him.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
Noctuary
Damian sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the rocking deck of the ship, holding onto the lower rung of the metal railing and gazing at the horizon. The waning sunset was a blaze of glorious color, the drifting clouds purple against the red western sky, with the swells of the Atlantic ocean sapphire-blue beneath. The old adage red sky at night, sailor’s delight bobbed to the surface of his thoughts.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
Butterscotch the Brave
Not so long ago and not so far away there lived a knight: Butterscotch the Brave. At first glance, he appeared unimpressive and his only defining features were his namesake butterscotch-coloured curls. He was not particularly muscly, nor was he exceptionally tall (in fact, he was slightly shorter than average), but his loyalty and big heart were second-to-none - matched only by his bravery. The night Butterscotch’s bravery was born began in a place few would expect: a child’s bedroom.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
Fantastic Variations on an Old Rhyme - ~A Pastiche~
Fantastic Variations on an Old Rhyme ~A Pastiche~ Scritch-scritch-scritch. There it was again: a faint scrabbling sound. Gert exhaled loudly, flipped her pillow to the cool side, and pulled the quilt over her head.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
The Son of Cinderella
Being the son of Cinderella, you’d think I lived a charmed life, or so says the eldest heir to the Charming family. But by the time I reached the age of six, I had already tired of hearing the story about my mother, and to this day, it makes me sick. “Fairy Godmothers, indeed,” I cried out to mt mother. “I’m seventeen! Do you still expect me to believe that childish story?”
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
The Giant Acorn
Mila shuddered as she clung to the cattail over hanging the river. She was a rabbit and could swim if she wanted to; but she was frightened of what lurked just under the surface. Vlad the Chomper floated as still as a bumpy green log, only his bulbous, lichen-colored eyes glared upwards at her. She knew that under the water his one hundred gnarly pointed teeth stuck out from his long, grinning, alligator snout.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
Green tea
It is 6:00 am, no one is at work for another hour, except for me and a few others who were sent here to serve. I go to the room where morning meetings occur and I start my cleaning immediately, I sterilize the surfaces, vacuum, put new flowers, I even start on the morning coffee. Here at firm, everyone has their own preferences and it is quite complicated: black coffee, coffee with sugar and milk, cinnamon, pumpkin spice, the list goes on. However, there is one cup of green tea I serve every morning and it is for her, Meredith, tall, blue-eyed girl who always wears clothes which make other people look at her twice. I don't look twice, I look a million times. Every time we are not in interaction I pretend I work, but I secretly look at her. She makes me experience weird things I can't quite describe and don't get with anyone else.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
She is a Constellation
Where the beginning meets the end, there was a universe. A constellation of everything that ever was and everything that ever will be; imagine it. Imagine everything always all together running at you faster than the speed of light, imagine eons in a moment, time nothing but putty in her hands, billions of lives and stories are simply a stalled blink, imagine her. There is nothing to say and there never will be anything to say, she is the final word. She has created time and she is time, a force so magnificent she surrounds suns, her trailing gown an array of astronomical anomalies.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
