Shuvayon Mukherjee

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2021

Stories (15)

15 Stories

1084 karma pts

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“Fluoxetine” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

I never asked Ma about her favorite animal, but it was probably one of those birds that eats insects off the backs of sub-Saharan oxen. She had a neurotic desire to look after people, and if they swatted her away, she’d swoop right back in and start pruning again. After she retired from nursing, she bought a herd of bison and spent her days fluttering around them instead.Before the Big C took her, she used to say, without a lick of humor, that they were her kids. All fifteen of them were good as gold, she’d add, ‘cause t...

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“If They Run You Over, Don't Scream” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

Today is my birthday, but I'm wearing a Halloween costume. It’s my first time as the bait.“Remember what we talked about, Kayla, dear,” Mum says, hugging me tight. “If they run you over, don’t scream.”Next to her, Dad nods. “Don’t make a sound. It’ll ruin the surprise, and more of ‘em will come. They’ll take you away. Do you want that to happen?”I sniff and shake my head, releasing a captive breath that plumes through the night air. Goosebumps pepper my bare arms. I can’t tell if they’...

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“Love, Guilt, and Meteor Showers” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

Content Warning: loss of pregnancy.She holds my gaze a heartbeat too long, and though we both recall the past, it’s the future we see clearest. I shouldn’t, but I’m powerless as my legs carry me across the atrium towards her. I can’t stop myself from admiring those lips, reposed against her wineglass. I can’t stop my eyes from tracing down her slender fingers, pale skin, gleaming fabric, and the shape of her body underneath. It doesn’t matter what I tell her, or what she says back. This love affair has only one ...

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“One of the Abandoned Boys” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

[Content Warning: Claustrophobia]East Side, London, 1889.Charlie sobs into the dark. He doesn’t want to be one of the abandoned boys. When Patch got stuck, Master Smith left him in there for a week until the landlord complained. They had to break the wall with a hammer to get him out. Charlie hadn’t seen it, but the other apprentices said they found him curled up like he was asleep, but all stiff-like. Patch didn’t sweep any more after that.Charlie’s kne...

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“When Words Are Not Enough” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

My first question has an answer when Conejo arrives in the same beat-up Mazda we once kissed in. Fame has not changed him. The second question lasts until we lock eyes for the first time in two years. He still looks at me as if we’re alone in a crowded stadium.If there is a third, it floats away with my heart in the humid Barranquilla breeze.We are not talkers, me and Conejo. Even in childhood, we spoke little. There is only fútbol - a dance, a duel, and a heart-to-heart ...

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“The Weight of Blue” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

Content Warning: mentions of assisted dying. The couple sits across from me, her hand in his, and I ask myself if I have the strength to break their hearts. Her face hides nothing: tears already quiver, ready to fall no matter what I say. His fist rests on a rapidly bouncing knee.I tear my eyes away from the screen.“I’m so sorry. There is an incredibly high demand for fertility treatment. You aren’t eligible.”What comes next is painful enough, but not for the...

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“The Taming of the Prude” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

Content Warning: language, sexual references, nudity (not descriptive).Vrrrttttt. Vrrrttttt. Vrrr-“Fuck off,” Mandy mumbled, backhanding her phone screen.-ttt. Vrrrttttt. Vrrrttttt. Vr-“It ain’t gonna snooze, Mands. It’s a phone call,” Brad groaned from the other side of the bed.-rrttttt. Vrrrttttt. Vrrr-“Good morning, Mandy speaking. Oh, hi Kate, how are you? Yes, of course....

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“You'll Never Be Alone” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

She holds her brother's sweaty hand tight as the credits fade. For a single breath, they sit in the void. Then the world is alight and reality resumes.Blinking, she stretches and looks around blearily. Faded grey seats of cheap foam; a metal bin overflowing with paper boxes and plastic cups; an overturned carton of popcorn, its contents strewn across the threadbare carpet; a neon green exit sign occasionally flickering. A sharp whiff of orange fizz from her brother’s half-finished soda. Undertones of stale popcorn, and t...

32 comments 32 SHORTLIST ⭐️
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“The Ephemeral Nature of Love” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

Grandad died before I understood how I felt about him.A week after he passed, my mother - no doubt grappling with her own demons of regret - left to me the task of sorting through his belongings. I sat in the cramped living room of a stranger and looked around helplessly. Grandad was more of an idea than a person. Others spoke of him as a decorated military man, later in life a successful investment banker par excellence. A widower, a single father and later a Grandad. Whether any of ...

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“Dog Vomit” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

This was the beginning of a successful BreadTube career.To get the most views, my first video had to excite the audience. I dug out the old binder where Grandma wrote our family recipes in her meticulously neat handwriting. It opened straight to the scrambled eggs recipe. For a moment I was a bespectacled child again, smearing it with ranch and grinding copious amounts of salt and cayenne pepper on top. Yes, that was good. The scrambled eggs would do nicely.All the top submissions on BreadTube - the bes...

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“It Couldn't Just Be Chance” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

“Are you there, God? It’s me again,” I whisper, hands clasped. “I’m begging you this time. I really don’t want to go to Christchurch today. Please, can you find a way for me to stay? Or, you know, maybe Adie could move there too? Please. If you’re real, this is your last chance to prove it.”She nudges me in the ribs. “Sam, it’s a bit late for that.”We’re lying on soft grass by the riverbank, listening to the water rushing past like the summer that left us behind. Above us, branches and trembling leaves ...

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“Tunnel Vision” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

Lady Astor: “Winston, if I were your wife I’d put poison in your coffee.”Winston Churchill: “Nancy, if I were your husband I’d drink it.”Alison watched the powder dissolve into David’s tea with grim satisfaction. David liked his tea milky. He would never tell the difference.“How’s the tea?” he called from the other room.“On the way,” she shouted back. It was taking too lon...

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“What Comes After” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

I’m alive as a gentle breeze that pulls strands of hair across her face and ruffles the flowers in her hands. I coax out the sun from behind a cloud and touch her softly on the shoulder. I want to tell her that everything will be okay, but I can’t - not anymore. So I settle for caressing her cheek with the wind. I know my wife well enough to understand what it means when her lips press together and the creases form on her forehead. She’s ruminating again. She’s thinking back to the day when I doubled over in pain an...

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“The Heart Specialist” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

The esteemed Dr Maharaj was the only cardiologist at St Agatha’s Hospital. Although I met him many years after he first arrived from Kashmir, the nurses told me everyone had taken to him right away. How could they not? There was a sincerity in the way he spoke; a strength in the hand he put on your shoulder. And when a patient’s heart was beyond repair - because there was no way he could save them all - he held their hand and promised to help them through until the very end. Dr Maharaj was the doctor that patients would kneel next to thei...

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“The Horror of Knossos” by Shuvayon Mukherjee

When I was a child, I would peer across the sea to Knossos and tell myself I could see the Labyrinth. I thought of walls impossibly high, impossibly black. Of a great stone door that six hoplites strained to open. Of jaws, to swallow those who ventured within. Fate determined that I never saw these things, for they led me inside blindfolded. When the cloth fell away from my eyes, I was a blind, defenseless creature scrabbling in the dirt. I heard retreating footsteps, a thud in the distance. And th...

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Author bio

Shuvayon is a country bumpkin from Middle Earth. Too short to be a hobbit and too ugly to be an orc, he ekes out a lonely existence in Bilbo's pantry.

Winning 1 story 🏆

Contest #125
The Heart Specialist – read story

Shortlisted 2 stories ⭐️

Contest #163
Fluoxetine – read story
Contest #147
You'll Never Be Alone – read story