The girl said, “Ghosts of my memories haunt me.” Perhaps she hadn’t buried them well. They kept feeding on her beautiful mind.
The boy said, “Those are lovely memories.” Perhaps he didn’t remember them forever. They faded away.
The girl was confined to an asylum.
The boy lived happily on.
Paramita Ghosh is an ordinary lady who sometimes tries to write stories.
I took the chopped vegetables from the cutting board. Heating olive oil, I fried them with a pinch of salt and oregano, then added just the right amount of peri-peri sauce.
At dinner, hubby commented, “Amazing meat dish.”
I got rather puzzled.
Suddenly kiddo exclaimed, “Mommy’s missing left hand fingers!”
Paramita Ghosh is an ordinary lady who loves to read and collect knowledge in her spare time. She also loves sketching and painting.
She came after sunset, entering her little room. She stood still in the shadowy corner beside the playhouse, facing the door, waiting for her grieving mother.
Mother came in after dinner, drying her eyes, then shrieked and fainted.
The next day, the Smiths called the church to perform the exorcism.
Paramita Ghosh is a mature lady with immature thoughts, as the family points out. She often works hard to reach a goal and ultimately fails. Presently she is seriously bringing up her daughter and surfing the net for new ideas.