“Excellent! Come downstairs, we’re waiting for you.”

"What would be an absolutely perfect afternoon to you?"

Eight mighty titans, unleashing their wrath!

Having a conversation with him was an arduous task.

For someone who grew up alone, I happen to feel terribly lonely.

Pictures are really the most basic form of story-telling, aren’t they? I imagine our ancestors sat around fires doing shadow theatre. They painted on cave walls long before writing came along.

Where else would they find a criminal, other than in the back alleys where the sun hadn’t reached for years, where the half-dead struggled in the flooded sewage for a scrap of euphoria.

Is the debut novel for Umme Maisun, Bangladesh's youngest online educator.

"Are you happy?" June asks Lazmere.

The office started to clear out once the overhead clock struck five.

“Hello, good morning to you,” said one of the butterflies.

When Naf woke up, he didn’t have much expectations from the day.

The world underwater which I can never see from up here, the world in mid-sky.

The day had not yet begun, the security light not yet put out.

A hundred years ago humans welcomed a new species of their kind, Homo debilis-sagax.

"I want to propose a deal with the Bazar."

I would remember a face like this if I had seen it around.

I am a photo of a person, printed in black and white, in a newspaper.

Where could they live happily for the rest of their childhood?

The creatures of the dark feed on fear. And hot sauce.