Winter nights are surely the best time for ghost stories or tales of spirits returning from the dead. This year, The Daily Star is preparing for some chilling winter night haunting.

My plane landed in Dhaka at 2:30. By the time, I went through customs, it was 4 o’clock in the afternoon. I became restless. How long would it take to go home? No one lived there now. My house stood alone, empty. I left it one month and thirty days ago. I locked the door before I left.

Morning sun, and its endearing ardor swathes my spent body, I awake a ghost.

I am from age-old pickle jars, and dusty ancestral bookshelves

The dust jacket cover of Amartya Sen’s absorbing and remarkable memoir shows him as a young boy, with his sister and a cousin at home, looking out at the world. An apt cover image of a fittingly titled book about someone who would be always taking in the world as he went all over

One year, a week before Eid-ul-Adha, my grandma, Dadi, came to Dhaka from the village and broke into tears. “What happened?” we asked.

This is about living in a twilight world of a romance with fiction as well as non-fiction. It’s a ménage à trois that I wouldn’t ever end.

Poignant lines on wishful death

The entire country was submerged in water. The countryside was completely flooded. In some places the tinned roofs of houses or some bamboo poles rose out of the waters to announce the presence of human residence.

If sunflowers shone in the sky and clouds floated in lakes,

A politician and journalist by profession, Abul Mansur Ahmad began his career as a National Congress worker in Bengal.

A love poem

Hermit-crab fiction use ready-made templates such as recipes, shopping lists, meeting minutes and other forms and is a great way for experimenting with form in short fiction.

Dream is a mystery sometimes unfolded amidst creeping eeriness unstipulated to the seemingly compos mentis. As long as my stint in your thought bears a meaning for life because I wish to worship the sanctity of your feeling for me and tree,

Now I wonder the world is a painting, an imaginary chamber where captives sing, like a caged dove obeying a hunter enticing free birds to live in bliss. And then I see darkness of dusk fade away as the sun begins to peek in the east.

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818) is well-known to the literary audience and beyond as the tale of a brilliant and mad scientist who created a horrible monster that in the end brought destruction for its creator.

This is a memoir of Sumaiya Samad Mehtaj who visited Sri Lanka this past June as part of a conference team. She was moved by the Lankans handling the critical situation of their country and decided to write this piece.

A portrayal of a complex psychology, "Warm Red" tells the story of a terribly insecure man.

Under the blazing sun, The man stands- strong hands holding on to brake, and legs tapping out a rhythm on pedals, pearls of sweat glistening down the small of a tanned back,

Keep relatives at a distance, they will never visit but will always give untimely advice or spill half-true family secrets.