Menu

More apps built by Reedsy

Assemble a team of professionals

The writing app for authors

Writing courses, events and memberships

Get your book reviewed

Weekly writing prompts and contests

Menu
Prompts
Contests
Stories
Blog

Triparna Chakraborty

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2020

Stories
Comments
Library
63 Followers
4 Following

3 Stories

40 karma pts

?

Participation, not Sympathy- the Freedom of the differently abled

Weekly Contest #42

She opened her eyes, confused and exasperated. The darkness in the room seemed to crawl on the legs of the bed. She could feel sweat on her skin. Faint familiar beeps accompanied by the sound of her own breath, speared the silence. Horrified, she tried to sit up, but the excruciating pain in every part of her body, made her end up slamming helplessly against the bed, only her restraints jingled. For the next few minutes she delivered another round of screaming and sobbing, only to never have anyone respond back. Forty minutes later, there wa...

2 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

They asked me casually, "hey tell me about the woman you think of as a hero"

Weekly Contest #39

Silence prevailed like an overbearing cacophony. The wall clock kept nudging consistently, only I would occasionally look at it to register its I-know-it-all look for the umpteenth time. Intermittent beeps from the cardiograph challenged my patience, the saline supply jeered at my determination to not let go. A pungent odour was concentrating so hard on choking me, that I almost believed, that’s the only task it was born to execute. Stuck in a loop, half sure of how pleasurable the exit would be, I hung on.This was not even about me anymore....

4 likes 1 comment 1
Read story

Payback to my childhood best friend, now more than ever!

Weekly Contest #36

As I look back , upon the days we've spent, I see the long miles we walked together. I‟m awed, how when everyday we met , you were still the same, but today, age has got you to wither.Those dried beds somewhere down your course, resemble so far so much grandma's crow's-feet frowns. The silt, I reckon, weighs you down, just like the nicotine does to papa's lung. "How does it matter, I can still breathe", he says. Only he coughs a little more. So much as you ripple your way around the litter. Only h...

4 likes 1 comment 1
Read story