Hey writing pals. Here’s the new episode of Death Of 1000 Cuts.

If you’d like to submit a piece of writing for a future episode, please check out our submission guidelines for details.

If you’d like to read my work, why not read my novel, The Honours?

Here’s the extract we look at this episode:

Untitled (by Raja)

The first thing Geerthana felt was the cold. She had felt it before; spending winters in northern India makes one used to the cold. This was different. It was all encompassing; it wasn’t like the cold you feel when you step outside on a snowy day. No, this was different. It was slow and deliberate, and before you know it you’re shivering and pressing your hands between your thighs. Geerthana lifted her face off the floor, her dark hair falling over her face as she took in the room around her. It was about the size of a shipping container – and just as dark.

She had no memory of this place, and when she tried to reach out in her mind, to work through the memories of the past few hours or even the previous day, she drew up a blank. Geerthana shivered again – her teeth clattering as she shifted slightly and sat herself up. Her first instinct was to reach down, unbutton her jeans and check – ‘Okay, so at least that’s some comfort’ as she buttoned her jeans back up before sitting up against the cold wall of the container.

She reached into her back pocket for her phone. Wiping a sheen of dust away, she switched it on. She recoiled slightly as the brightness of the screen hit her face – ‘fuck’ she exclaimed as she realized the battery was just about running out.

‘I can’t remember the last time you swore like that, sis’ a familiar voice called out to her.

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