The Unabridged Journals of Karissa Gupta

Merrily huddled together, forming an uneven circle, encroaching towards the illuminating warmth radiating from the ferocious flame forged by enchanting hues of orange, yellow and white entwined together. As the flame danced mightily in front of my wide, doll shaped eyes, flecked with curiosity, I grabbed my sister’s ever- steady arm, to comfort me whilst the chilling winds blew across my face. As I sat near the ancient logs piled upon each other and the orange sparks erupting from them, listened to spellbinding tales whispered secretly in hushed tones, watched the crumpled leaves fall to the awaiting ground beneath and gazed at the glowing faces of my cousins, adorned with hearty smiles and echoing chuckles, I heard a jumble of distinct syllables ring in my ears. “Folklore, folklore, folklore.” As this word was chanted in a deep rhythm like a prayer, as my family urged my reserved sister to dwell into tales from our homeland, I was transported into another dimension, centuries ago, ri...