About Inklore
The journey begins when the imagination goes wild. The journey starts here with bold steps across the worlds big and small, the worlds which never existed and will exist infinitely as long as you let words turn into more. Join my characters in their adventures and dramas, their love stories, their transformation, their march across the unknown terrain.
Code of Affliction
She wakes up in a very strange place that looks like a restricted hospital for the infected, her memories a jumble of puzzle pieces. Could it be that the strain of virus that built her genetics is now killing her too? It is definitely what the AI monitoring this place suggests along with some radical measures for survival. But before she agrees to anything, she is going to explore.
The place looks deserted – no ways in or out. There seems to be no people, but strange creatures roam around, and the AI’s intonations and manners change occasionally like its personality is not settled. However, the more the urgency to escape grows, the more reasons there are to stay. Will she remain herself throughout this ordeal? Will she even live…?
Code of Affliction: The Terraforming Dirt [Chapter 07]
Andras pulled the isotherm jacket off the solitary hanger and donned it over the grey-blue, graphite one-piece suit of his uniform. He ran his palms over the soft squishy material, patting the many pockets, feeling every crack in the worn fabric. Today, however, it did not bring him comfort.
Code of Affliction: The Way Around [Chapter 06]
She hurried to leave the observation deck. As she moved down the tapering corridor, all she could think of was the radiation penetrating the hull and the black, freezing emptiness just outside the ship.
Code of Affliction: Disruption [Chapter 05]
Donghyun flipped the spoon on the table – the sound echoed through the empty refectory like a ghost. However, as his plant soup was cooling, his attention was stolen by what had to be another apparition on the screen of his tablet.
Flash Fiction
(…) I was hit by the power of a short scene – without a prelude, a background, with only a hint of the future. It is not less immersive, perhaps even more, because it is in a sense undiluted action and emotion. It is at times hellishly hard to make the scene clear, especially in science fiction, when you need more brush strokes to ground the reader. But it is more satisfying when it works.
And it is an amazing way to preserve all the ideas of the thousands magical things that come into my head. There is always a possibility that I will write more about that world someday. Or, maybe, I will leave the reader with just a cut of the protagonist’s life – like a short reel or a picture on Instagram. Or a very vivid dream, which you did not see till the end. When I think of the conglomeration my flash fiction can become one day, I have a strong visual image – that of a photographer’s portfolio with thumb icons of myriads of shots they made. Sometimes a big picture equals a diverse collage of many small images. Sometimes a reading experience is a snowstorm and you catch one fluffy snowflake to examine its pattern.
The Hall Of Fathers
I brush the non-existing dust off the skirt of my pink tulle dress and scratch my left wrist. My small, glittering shoe finally crosses the line. The scanner in the floor reads my approach and the tall doors of riveted, lacquered wood spread open. I enter the Hall of Fathers.
Graffiti Ghost
I arrive in the street cramped with huge lit signs of various shops and restaurants. There is a wrapper stuck to the sole of my trekking boot already. My shoulders ache – the trip from the airport included a lot of walking. A smell of hot bibimbap comes from the nearest door, enticing me to go in, take off my backpack – which is heavy with everything I own – and order a bottle of soju on top of everything.
The Shifting Tattoo
I feel it before I manage to see it and almost drop the coffee cup into the sink. I could nearly mistake it for the scald of the too hot water if it didn’t run up my forearm instead of down. It is rather precise as well, like tiny piranhas biting their way along the thin paths, very artistically. And when I look down – there it is. Or better say isn’t. Parts of my tattoo gone, vanished without a trace.
News, reviews and more
Short story publication in “Utopia of Us”
My story was selected for the anthology "Utopia Of Us" published by Luna Press Publishing. It was launched last weekend on the 1st of June - the perfect start of the summer season - at Cymera festival. It is amazing to be part of the collection of stories...
Why do I write flash fiction
I always believed that brevity was not the sister of my talent. Short form had never appealed to me. After all, I always dreamt of the story immersion, the level of worldbuilding and character development that creates a Virtual Story Reality for the writer and the reader.
Scattered: The Making and Unmaking of a Refugee by Aamna Mohdin
We choose what makes us, what defines us. But it is never an easy selection. Not when the transitions we make in life are painful or marred. What does it mean to define yourself as a refugee? A Somali? How do you untangle a web of multiple belongings and difficult pasts? In this profound, personal and illuminating story, Aamna Mohdin talks about her own journey, her country and its scattered pieces that were shot across the globe by the war and crisis.