Subodh Joshi's Work | ContraWork by Subodh Joshi
Subodh Joshi

Subodh Joshi

Storyteller & Writer of Reflective Human Stories

New to Contra

Subodh is ready for their next project!

Cover image for "Every story has a whisper. Discover yours in WhispersandQui...
"Every story has a whisper. Discover yours in WhispersandQuills ✨📖"
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Cover image for A Party to Remember The lights were warm, the smiles were re...
A Party to Remember The lights were warm, the smiles were real, and the music felt endless. But behind the laughter at Tylen House, something unseen was already unfolding —turning one perfect night into a memory no one would forget.
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Cover image for Behind the Story The cover of Tylen House was designed to fe...
Behind the Story The cover of Tylen House was designed to feel like a silent witness. Dark tones, empty windows, and soft light hint at secrets, loneliness, and danger— Inviting the reader into a mystery before the first page.
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Cover image for Murder and Secrets at Tylen House The walls of Tylen House w...
Murder and Secrets at Tylen House The walls of Tylen House whispered secrets at midnight. Every locked door hid a memory, every shadow a truth. When she entered, she thought she was alone. The house knew better.
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Cover image for One Last Message He typed, “I still wait for your replies.” ...
One Last Message He typed, “I still wait for your replies.” Then deleted it. She typed, “Do you ever think of me?” Then deleted it. Two hearts. Two unsent messages. One silence too loud to ignore.
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Cover image for A reflective micro-story inspired by a flower photograph, ex...
A reflective micro-story inspired by a flower photograph, exploring understanding beyond appearances.
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Cover image for Prologue : The Call to Journey The phone bell rang insistent...
Prologue : The Call to Journey The phone bell rang insistently, piercing the quiet of her room. Meera stared at it for a long moment, her fingers hovering above the receiver. Her heart thumped unevenly — part fear, part longing, part disbelief. She had heard this voice countless times before, through countless empty booths and disconnected lines. And yet, the moment it spoke, all the months apart collapsed into one fragile thread. “Please, Meera,” his voice broke through, raw and desperate, trembling in a way only truth could tremble. “Let’s meet… at least once. For God’s sake.” Her chest tightened. Memories of days spent apart — the silent cafeteria, the letter she had read and reread, the loneliness of watching him from afar — surged through her like a tide.
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