G.B. Dinesh Archives - Black Hare Press

Nana

May 29, 2024/by Shawna Rowan

by G.B. Dinesh

They were talking about death at Nana’s eightieth birthday party. I sat on her lap. “She won’t die, she is a witch,” one of her friends said, cackling.

I looked up; Nana gave me a tired smile. She was already dying, but the spark in her eyes made me think of a blaze that had been burning for centuries.

Soon I dressed like her. I talked like her, ate like her.

Then she died.

Now all I can do is watch. As if looking up from a bottomless well, and choking with tears, I watch the witch living my life.

G.B. Dinesh

G.B. Dinesh is a young writer and software engineer from Chennai, India.

Out of Range

January 28, 2024/by Shawna Rowan

by G.B. Dinesh

We ate the last of our food today. We’re going to sleep the big sleep now. When we hurtled past Mars, Tim joked, “It’s okay. We’ll reach Jupiter instead.” But I knew what was going on in his mind. His wife and their soon-to-be-born son. God, the reason! It still is unbelievable. I burst into laughter when I heard it.

It’s because the engineers weren’t using the metric system. That’s right. The scientists said Mars was 380 million kilometres away, and the engineers who programmed the trajectory of the spacecraft used 380 million miles. God, it still cracks me up.

G.B. Dinesh

G.B. Dinesh is a young writer and software engineer from Chennai, India. Say hello on X (formerly Twitter).

X/Twitter: @dinesh_bob_

Contaminated

December 5, 2023/by Shawna Rowan

by G.B. Dinesh

When the contamination happens, the genetic engineering laboratory is sealed off automatically, containing the turbocharged plastic-eating bacteria and the three microbiologists within the laboratory.

Ted begins hyperventilating.

“It eats plastic,” John says. “It can’t survive in our bodies.”

“I’m worried more about the quarantine process we’ll have to go through,” Anna says.

But then John coughs up blood and collapses to the floor. Soon Anna’s nose starts bleeding.

“It’s in our food and water,” she says.

Ted feels a stabbing pain in his chest. “What?”

“Microplastics,” she says. “Along with the plastic lodged in our bodies, the bacteria’s eating us.”

G.B. Dinesh

G.B. Dinesh is a young writer and software engineer from Chennai, India. Say hello on X (formerly Twitter).

Twitter: @dinesh_bob_

The Invitation

June 27, 2023/by Shawna Rowan

by G.B. Dinesh

The doorbell rings. It’s 3 a.m. God, who died?

I find a postman outside the door.

“Hello, Mr Smith.” He hands over an invitation.

An invitation to—

“Mister, what game are you playing?” I try to grab his collar, but I can’t.

I dash to the bedroom.

I touch my wife, I feel nothing. I kiss her lips, I feel nothing. I kneel down on the floor and weep. In her sleep, her face slowly settles into the most beautiful smile in the world. Holding that smile in my memory and the invitation to heaven in my hand, I leave.

G.B. Dinesh

G.B. Dinesh is a young Indian writer whose works span across many genres.

YEAR FIVE

January 11, 2020/by Black Hare Press

YEAR SIX

January 10, 2020/by Black Hare Press

Tag Archive for: G.B. Dinesh

Nana

They were talking about death at Nana’s eightieth birthday party. I sat on her lap. “She won’t die, she is a witch,” one of her friends said, cackling.

I looked up; Nana gave me a tired smile. She was already dying, but the spark in her eyes made me think of a blaze that had been burning for centuries.

Soon I dressed like her. I talked like her, ate like her.

Then she died.

Now all I can do is watch. As if looking up from a bottomless well, and choking with tears, I watch the witch living my life.

Out of Range

It’s because the engineers weren’t using the metric system. That’s right. The scientists said Mars was 380 million kilometres away, and the engineers who programmed the trajectory of the spacecraft used 380 million miles. God, it still cracks me up.

Contaminated

When the contamination happens, the genetic engineering laboratory is sealed off automatically, containing the turbocharged plastic-eating bacteria and the three microbiologists within the laboratory.

Ted begins hyperventilating.

“It eats plastic,” John says. “It can’t survive in our bodies.”

“I’m worried more about the quarantine process we’ll have to go through,” Anna says.

But then John coughs up blood and collapses to the floor. Soon Anna’s nose starts bleeding.

“It’s in our food and water,” she says.

Ted feels a stabbing pain in his chest. “What?”

“Microplastics,” she says. “Along with the plastic lodged in our bodies, the bacteria’s eating us.”

The Invitation

The doorbell rings. It’s 3 a.m. God, who died?

I find a postman outside the door.

“Hello, Mr Smith.” He hands over an invitation.

An invitation to—

“Mister, what game are you playing?” I try to grab his collar, but I can’t.

I dash to the bedroom.

I touch my wife, I feel nothing. I kiss her lips, I feel nothing. I kneel down on the floor and weep. In her sleep, her face slowly settles into the most beautiful smile in the world. Holding that smile in my memory and the invitation to heaven in my hand, I leave.

YEAR FIVE

YEAR SIX