Akshay Rajkumar @tinytalltale

He crept through the hallway, tiptoeing in the darkness, making sure that she was asleep. Then he quietly drew his blade and made the decisive cut. It happened so swiftly she would not have known until the next morning what happened to the very last pieces of cake.

In the chronoverse you go to bed in the present day and wake up either in the past or the future, near or distant. Everyday is the beginning of the rest of your life and the last day of your life—thrilling and terrifying; meaningful and meaningless, at the same time.

Nothing else matters #threewordlovestories

He felt like a new man. She was everything he had ever wanted. Nothing he'd ever known before could compare to this new first love. He was flushed with joy. She, of course, knew nothing of how his undying love would fade within a year, when the next new phone replaced her.

It was said to be the life-giving, soul-satisfying sweet water of the gods. No one who drank of it could ever die. We were young and foolish. Now we're old, bitter, heartbroken and full of regret, without even the hope of death as a reprieve.

We fought the enemy for years. It was all we ever knew. Not until they were beaten did we find out the bitter truth about ourselves. We hated them more than we loved each other.

We were the first to arrive. We left everything behind. They promised us freedom, love, the best days of our lives. We should have known better. You can't create a new earth with old earth's people.

He stood at the edge, unwavering; without a sound, a regret or any doubt. Day by day, year after year, the pain of living had simply grown greater than his fear of death.

It was the ultimate gamble. The moment anyone set foot on the island, either every wish of theirs came true or every fear. It was the ultimate con. Neither our wishes could save us nor our fears could kill us.

After the funeral she didn't know what to do. An apology felt inappropriate, silence felt cowardly and empty condolences felt disingenuous. So she simply logged out. Failing friends in her virtual life hurt more than failing them in the real world.

We were good lawyers; they were better. We were right; they were rich. We fought hard; they played dirty. It's been thirty years. No one knew us then. No one remembers them now.

At first we thought it was an echo but then we realised someone was softly, occasionally, repeating what we said. One of us screamed for help and all of us ran when we heard a gleeful voice say, "Coming".

We endured the first 3 months of the outbreak and mastered a survival strategy that was working. Zombies were dangerous but consistent, predictable. It was easier to live with zombies than with humans.

No one who used the door to the neighbouring universe had returned. We assumed they either died in transit or were killed by hostiles. Only when we ourselves arrived did we understand. We quickly sealed shut the door behind us. This was too good to share with anyone else.

The last of the lifeboats left without her; the radio was already underwater and the flares refused to fire. She closed her eyes and thought of making peace with her maker; but her war with him was fiercely fought and her will, not too easily surrendered.

We found hundreds of them sleeping in sealed capsules, bound to each other, as if entombed in a floating cemetery in the outer reaches of space. We brought them aboard and opened the capsules. Most of the crew is slain. A few of us remain. Send help quickly!

After the wedding, he whispered in her ear he loved her more than any of his wives. He was overheard by the elder wife, matron of the harem, who had the right to call for immediate annulment. He then called for immediate execution. Fools wield more power than is right. Always.

Either she left to build the life she wanted to live in; or she died slowly in the chaos of a dysfunctional office. She was choosing between swift career suicide and passively poisoning her soul. She knew what she needed to do. She's still looking for the will to do it.

The only recipe for the most potent potion was written with invisible ink on escaping paper that fled from reach. It needed an unlocking spell held by a tyrannical wizard, weakened only by the most sincere flattery. We asked the humans for help and that's how the magic wars ended

He had just poured himself a glass of water. It was a swift trial with a quick judgment and immediate sentencing to exile. Unthinkable in the old days but the rarity and high cost of water made its misuse tantamount to treason.