As I walked up the steps to my apartment I found a bright orange eviction notice stapled into the cracked paint of the brown door. It came as little surprise as I’d been avoiding the landlord for two months. I only left in the middle of the night for minimal groceries and to find the remnants of half smoked cigarettes outside the bus station entrance. Anything as not to be caught in her gaze and questioned yet again why the rent remained unpaid. With as little noise as possible I opened the lock to the apartment, leaving the orange notice stapled to the door, and closed it behind me. Continue reading
View from the Open Sea (433 words)
Our dreams are but crystal drops falling from eyes tearing with joy or sorrow; their pings can be heard for miles around; their echoes bounce back to bless or to haunt. One droplet, the best droplet, shone as a white flare for a moment in time; smiles frozen on celluloid; romantic poses pasted into a sticky album and boxed away for latter days…It was just a tiny, liquid drop of youthful expectation collected in a bucket yet it promised the biggest prize. Of all those constrained in my little sea, on that cornerstone I fashioned my house knowing that, one day, I could look back and see it still shining like a beacon Continue reading
“Letters are among the most significant memorial a person can leave behind them.”
– Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
He shivers while sweat dries on his naked back. He puts his pen down. He stares at his Continue reading
Dark, dismal days, as the sun tries breaking through a sulphuric haze overlaying our little town. Four years now, right in the middle of the battle lines drawn between two religious factions. Both claimed they were fighting for God, but all they were doing was raising hell for us.
I am Mareek, son of the once mayor of Abbul, a quiet little town where mostly local farmers sold their goods. Now a war torn assembly of remnants, looking more like piles of rubbish, Continue reading
I looked around when I woke up, seeing green and black. The canvas before me smelled of fresh acrylic. Sap Green and Mars Black. No, Ivory Black. A novice would have never seen the difference, but I was no novice. The colors were my life, coursing with my blood, pumping tirelessly through my veins, so much so that I could smell the difference. The paintbrush, gripped like death in my right hand, bled down the handle and onto my forearm in rivulets of green over crusted ribbons of black. My arm trembled slightly as it always does after a frenzy Continue reading
Dear James was inspired by Nariman’s own Visual Writing Prompt
of the Mowbray Cemetery on a dismal day
An air of desolation turned the world to grey. From inside her car, Sarah sat in silence not ready to venture out.
“Coward!” she berated herself.
It was a year since she was robbed of him, and it took her a year to get this far. She had made it to the foot of the hill before; then to the edge of the cemetery from where she could make out the tops of the tombstones. And on one particularly sunny and brave day, she made it all the way to the gate, peered inside; and with a faltering heart, drove away never Continue reading