The top selections in poetry, flash fiction and artwork for Day 11 of the Sehri Tales challenge; prompt: Resist
Set in 1979, this is a story of monsters—the ones who prey on the vulnerable, the ones that exploit our weaknesses, and the ones that we elevate to positions of power.
“Stop mocking me, Atif! I am telling you there is something here.”
The top selections in poetry, flash fiction and artwork for Day 6 of the Sehri Tales challenge; prompt: Relief
The top selections in poetry, flash fiction and artwork for Day 5 of the Sehri Tales challenge; prompt: Deny
Umar stood in line with all the patience in the world. He could smell the anxiety and fear in the air. The room was filled with people once glorifying death and taking pride in solitude, now filled with panic in the face of reality.
Weaving the grand themes of politics and history, the book is a revelation into how the ordinary lives within a country are buffeted by constant changes.
The voices–the wails that had called me here–were emanating from these very graves.
How do you think I feel every time I find you hovering over the door to my classroom? Like when you’re the only passenger riding up a lift, and then it suddenly stops.
The top selections in poetry, flash fiction and artwork for Day 11 of the Sehri Tales challenge; prompt: Resist
Set in 1979, this is a story of monsters—the ones who prey on the vulnerable, the ones that exploit our weaknesses, and the ones that we elevate to positions of power.
“Stop mocking me, Atif! I am telling you there is something here.”
The top selections in poetry, flash fiction and artwork for Day 6 of the Sehri Tales challenge; prompt: Relief
The top selections in poetry, flash fiction and artwork for Day 5 of the Sehri Tales challenge; prompt: Deny
Umar stood in line with all the patience in the world. He could smell the anxiety and fear in the air. The room was filled with people once glorifying death and taking pride in solitude, now filled with panic in the face of reality.
Weaving the grand themes of politics and history, the book is a revelation into how the ordinary lives within a country are buffeted by constant changes.
The voices–the wails that had called me here–were emanating from these very graves.
How do you think I feel every time I find you hovering over the door to my classroom? Like when you’re the only passenger riding up a lift, and then it suddenly stops.
The only way they chose to do this was probably written or imprinted in our genes–a wild frenzy of carnal expressions filled their faces.