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	<title>Short Stories Online &#187; fiction stories</title>
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		<title>The Ice Blade</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/12/08/the-ice-blade/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/12/08/the-ice-blade/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 08 Dec 2011 10:05:43 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Short Stories</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Headline]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Online short Story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2332</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		

Tring…….Tring…….
“Oh! What a bother and that too in the morning,” thought Rohit as he put the alarm on his cell phone back to snooze mode. The holidays had just started for him and yet his mother insisted on him putting up an alarm for eight in the morning, knowing fully well that he was not going to get up so early. He snuggled up to his pillow. However, he found that he was only lazing about on the bed as sleep eluded him. Fed up of lying on the bed ...]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<item>
		<title>Guest Story &#8211; To you&#8230;. my love</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/06/12/2295/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/06/12/2295/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 12 Jun 2011 16:52:29 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Short Stories</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[guest stories]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2295</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
Today is 3rd of June. Two years back , this day Aru was with Meenal. It was her birthday and just 2 days later was Aru&#8217;s birthday. Since last few years they had been celebrating both of their birthdays together on the same day. They had outed the whole day, had a beautiful candlelit homemade dinner.
But today Aru is all alone. He has just returned from the Village hospital. Tired and exhausted he lies on the cot of his small quarter. He tries to dose off, but thoughts keep propping ...]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>6</slash:comments>
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		<item>
		<title>Guest Story – To Have And Bear All</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/05/05/guest-story-to-have-and-bear-all/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/05/05/guest-story-to-have-and-bear-all/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 05 May 2011 06:20:14 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[featured]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[guest stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short stories online]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2260</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
It was dark and wet. Spring had just arrived and all was quiet but for the sound of his heavy breathing and the dripping water. His snoring echoed throughout and frightened intruders away.
All of a sudden, he woke up coughing and heaving. He scrambled for a cigarette and found a half smoked one in the ground. It was damp and moldy, but he didn’t care. He lit up and the coughing stopped. His breathing slowed down. His eyes were bloodshot and he could taste the bitterness of his own breath. ...]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>My first solo trip – gift a short story</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/01/07/my-first-solo-trip-gift-a-short-story/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/01/07/my-first-solo-trip-gift-a-short-story/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 07 Jan 2011 07:37:27 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fantasy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short stories online]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2154</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
The night before, I couldn’t find sleep. So, I got up from my bed, switched on the bedrooms lights. I presumed, but it wasn’t even mid-night. The clock suggested 11:46PM. I love the silence during the night, but not that day. It was haunting, chilly and the dog barking outside made the night even more eerie. My mind was filled, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the trip. Literally, a million questions popped up &#8211; “What would it be like? Where will I stay? ….gosh! I don’t even know anybody ...]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Guest story – surf on sunday</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/22/guest-story-surf-on-sunday/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/22/guest-story-surf-on-sunday/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 22 Dec 2010 07:20:30 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[guest stories]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2139</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
The crossroads waited, dreaming in the peace of the early Sunday morning, blinking stop-go commands to the empty air.
Suddenly, the heavy station wagon hurtled through the protesting red lights, to consummate itself in a destructive passion on the small panel van starting to cross with the green light.
They rolled and slid in an obscene embrace that rended and tore and crumpled, and then the absolute hush of shocked silence spread over the crossroads. From a long way off a siren shrieked its urgency as it approached, until its wail expired ...]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<item>
		<title>Guest story &#8211; over to you</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/21/guest-story-over-to-you/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/21/guest-story-over-to-you/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 21 Dec 2010 09:30:30 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fantasy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short stories online]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2108</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
 
“I&#8217;m fed up to the ears with old men dreaming up wars 
for young men to die in.” &#8211; George McGovern.
The night sky resembled an endless black fabric with dozens of tiny pin-pricks, through which glittering light shone. It seemed to envelop all that lay below it. The iron shack on the outskirts of the township sparkled with its covering of winter frost. From its door only a single, lonely pathway etched in the dust and dried grass, showed its connection to the others. Inside there was a bed, ...]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Guest story – acid house</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/21/guest-story-acid-house/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/21/guest-story-acid-house/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 21 Dec 2010 08:55:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[guest stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fantasy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short stories online]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2102</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
11: 20 PM: Brittany and I drove to a party downtown. It’s Saturday night, forty minutes to midnight; the night is an infant, and the morning far away. The limo sped down the highway, the roof was open. We swayed our drunken heads to expensive music. Champagne flutes tossed on the floor, we drank from the bottle. We turned our heads, stomped our feet, shook off sleep, shut our eyes and let the wind sweep away beads of sweat. Lip gloss, Hermès shirts, Ferragamo shoes, vintage Gucci, Manish Arora scarves.  ...]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Ananya &amp; Anita – short fiction story</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/20/ananya-anita-short-fiction-story/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/20/ananya-anita-short-fiction-story/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 20 Dec 2010 13:13:03 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[bedtime stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Children Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short stories online]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[teenage story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2093</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
Ananya ran to simmer the burning stove. It was 2nd time in a row this week that she had put the milk to boil, forgotten all about it and now a good deal of milk was running all over the neat stainless steel kitchen counter. “Mother is going to get mad at me again”, thought Ananya to herself. “Mother hated milk and other necessities going to waste, but what the heck, a glass here and there, it was no big deal. She will clean it anyways after she is home” ...]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/20/ananya-anita-short-fiction-story/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The dead diary &#8211; short fiction story</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/20/the-dead-diary-short-fiction-story/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/20/the-dead-diary-short-fiction-story/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 20 Dec 2010 12:37:57 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fantasy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short stories online]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story book]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2087</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
November 11, 2010
Dear Diary,
I just don’t know how to put it in words!!!!
I can still feel his words ringing in my ears and yet it is in reality “surreal”. After all they are not supposed to speak after they are………&#8230;.
Let me try to recall what exactly happened yesterday: While perusing a copy of the Economic Times last morning, I noticed that the Sensex had dropped by another 865 points due to which the Government had suspended trade. I was obviously having the blues due to the huge loss incurred in ...]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The tip – short fiction story</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/20/the-tip-short-fiction-story/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/20/the-tip-short-fiction-story/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 20 Dec 2010 12:00:53 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fantasy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[mystery]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short stories online]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2081</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
“Crime in our town has gone up for the seventh straight month.  Police are at a loss for the reason.  They are warning all citizens to be on their guard.”
“Hopefully, not too much on their guard,” Zico said with a chuckle.  He turned off the radio as he sat near the door, chatting away with the person opposite to him.  His eyes were trained on the counter as he watched the party coming to an end and the last few inebriates waltzing across the floor. Throwing a glance towards the ...]]></description>
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