Tedo Sharadenidze
Stories (12/0)
Haystack
“It must be somewhere here,” my cousin said, looking around curiously. “I didn’t know this house had such strong walls,” I said, touching the damp, bare bricks. “I know that TM (my neighbor) set fire to it when the owner of the house killed her brother in front of her very eyes. I wonder why she wasn’t arrested.”
By Tedo Sharadenidze5 months ago in Fiction
All Is Forgiven
(“When I was a child, I would ruthlessly laugh at people pondering over the purpose of their being on Earth. But the older I grew, the more permissive I became with my mind, letting it look for any clues revealing the secret meaning of life.”)
By Tedo Sharadenidze7 months ago in Fiction
The Beige Bras
Ever since her sister died of a brain tumor, Lora has dreaded the thought of being cooped up in the same walls her sister had to put up with. The death of her twin sister drained her capacity for a worry-free life. She didn’t just feel the bitterness accompanying the death of a loved one; she became obsessed with the idea that the same fate was awaiting her.
By Tedo Sharadenidze12 months ago in Psyche
The Lady from San Fernando
My hands were sticky with the syrup of the croissant I had eaten a few minutes earlier. I wanted to rush to the bathroom to wash my hands when I suddenly heard a faint voice that pervaded the corridor, filling it with tranquility and shy excitement:
By Tedo Sharadenidzeabout a year ago in Marriage
Words Never Spoken
This morning, I heard big, fat snowflakes tapping the window panes, thrashing around like headless chickens. And now, as I am trudging through the snow, my bare feet are getting used to being the prey of those ostensibly benign flakes. Walking in the snow in sandals is not a good idea, but I am not doing this by choice.
By Tedo Sharadenidzeabout a year ago in Fiction
Let's Call a Plumber
I am walking down the boulevard. My broken umbrella can provide some temporary protection against the rain, but the wind wrestling with it warns me that sooner or later I may end up soaked to the skin. In the distance, I can hear the traffic lights beeping. They seem to be fulfilling their duties just like a train driver who has to stop at every station in case someone might want to get on or get off. I want to look at the raging sea because it always makes me feel good. In those waves, I seek solace to robe my naked fears of tomorrow that have wound themselves around my feet.
By Tedo Sharadenidzeabout a year ago in Fiction
The Rusty Padlocks
It was the day when the sleepy guard and torturing silence would give in to laughter and exuberance. He could not just lie around and wait for the sunshine to tiptoe into the room and nest on his eyes. (Maybe the sun was not even going to loom out of the clouds.) He would usually linger in bed for the next three hours or so, but his thoughts were driving him up the wall that morning. He could not forget the joy mingled with fear reborn every time he took a step forward towards the door. The door would lead him into the dimly lit corridor filled with grey-eyed cold. What would he find there? Maybe a guard dozing off, fighting back his heavy eyelids; too many iron doors and ugly-looking rusty padlocks which burdened one’s soul with a deep sense of regret and abject self-hatred. He wondered if rust would eat away the barrier to freedom one day. Perhaps, the rust would only make it difficult for the guard to turn the key. Who knows?!
By Tedo Sharadenidze2 years ago in Fiction
The Ship In The Desert
The old woman stepped out of her run-down house on a gloomy evening. The sky was torn between two options, he couldn’t decide whether he wished to vest earth with a white shield or drench it with drizzling drops. She liked night walks more than anything else. She cherished the existence of night and wondered why there was no space for sunbeams or blooming trees left in her heart. Maybe because there was something hidden behind the dark wall – something lurking in her soul which she was afraid to reveal even to herself.
By Tedo Sharadenidze3 years ago in Fiction