A.A. Trivedi

A. A. Trivedi was born in April 1983 and spent the first ten years of her life growing up in Hemel Hemstead in Hertfordshire, England. She then moved with her family to Waterlooville in Hampshire, where she lived until she completed her degree in Criminology from the University of Portsmouth. A.A. Trivedi now lives in Toronto, Canada and is currently exploring ideas for her first full-length novel, as well as regularly writing short stories and poems. Her other interests are quite diverse and include everything from philosophy and world mythology to watching good crime shows and drinking green tea. A. A. Trivedi has been writing since she can remember and believes that for her, writing is not an art-form or a hobby but a necessity. Find her website here.

Stories by A.A. Trivedi

Different Worlds

Illustrated by Cait Maloney

He lived in the sea, and I on land. When he ventured into my world I always knew he was different. He didn’t mention that he was merely a tourist where I dwelled. His cool skin tone matched his demeanor and as I got to know him, I looked upon his quirky nature to be …

1A

Illustrated by Alberto Pessoa

She’s devastatingly beautiful. She always has been. She never had any of those awkward phases that most people encounter at some point through their teens. Her eyes are naturally big, and brown like two perfect hazelnuts. She knows how to bring out their most striking features by the way she highlights them in various tones …

A Walk with the Damned

Illustrated by Alankrita Amaya

We gathered around the tour guide, just off of Bourbon Street. He scanned each member of our group with keen interest, beginning his introduction, “N’Awlins, isa place of history — and intrigue… The type of place with many an interesting tale to tell on a moonlit summer’s night. The modern world doesn’t understand it, so …

The Presence

Illustrated by Delilah Buckle

He feels particularly on edge tonight, as he sits rigidly in his mahogany chair. Moonlight falls in a bold stripe across the faded rug in the middle of the living room. The windows are closed but the curtains were drawn carelessly, as somewhat of a hurried afterthought. The silver ray of light that has crept …