megna musings

creative elements drawn from my life of yoga

east village, nyc.

Category: Fiction

  • excerpt from a short story about a woman scientist named Rika

    He smoked most of the joint, smiled beatifically, and walked me to my car. I promised I would come see him for class again soon, thanked him for his time, and then, when I was sure he had walked a bit away, I opened the back door of the car, got in, closed the door…

  • From a short story about a girl named Rumi

    Sacrosanct is how I felt sitting in the park, thinking. This is a crime against wisdom, I would realize between thoughts, and with this sharpeness of realization piercing the cocoon of my own creation the space would rush into my mind with all the cleansing solace of pure listening. Breath filled my ears and my…

  • Draft from a short story about an undergrad named Audrey

    Sometimes I get busy as hell in my head, and suddenly I realize that my body’s gone numb and dark, so I close my eyes a moment and bring it back online. Like reassembling myself. And it’s not easy, pulling my mind out of my problems and back into my body. All my awareness wants…