One's Obsession with Oneself_Aanya and Tamanna_How loved I was._'Charted' Territory
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One's Obsession with Oneself
Peggy was a train wreck. She was in her mid – eighties. Her knees hurt all the time and her memory was going. Not that she would admit that, because she was too proud. She was four feet tall and felt that the world owed her because she was old and had had a harwww.onedoor.ccd life. She especially felt that, for some reason, her daughter owed her everything.One day, a tragic thing happened. There was a major hurricane in their area. Peggy’s daughter snatched her up and they evacuated. Luckily, Peggy's house didn’t receive any damage from that storm, but her daughter’s had. The power remained out, however, so...
Aanya and Tamanna
Silhouetted by amber beams stretching with the waking January sun, the teeth of the world arose, jagged and uneven, out of the lifting blanket of night. Ablaze with radiant crown the mountains regained their majesty, decreeing a promise of grief to any unwary, or weary, traveller.Aanya, who had wandered half the night across the wintry mountainside, welcomed the delivering orb of warmth and light; her broad ursine head lifted in greeting. Shattered frost rained from her thick brown coat as she shook off the weighted memories of night.'Not much farther, Tamanna.' Offered Aanya in response to th...
How loved I was.
"You want to be a what Dad?" Mirium eyed me as if I suddenly had three heads.The room was split between concern and confusion. It seemed as if everyone had just learned that I’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. I let the silence fill the space and waited a while, until it became solid and the weight of it came crushing upon me.“An actor,” I looked outside the window at the waning sun, not wanting to meet their gazes yet. The tantalizing smell of kebabs and the sweet aroma of kheer wafted from the kitchen where the servants were busy preparing the Eid-day feast. Ali and Ahmed, the twins, exch...
'Charted' Territory
Trigger warning: SuicidePink sunlight flooded the room, caressing every surface with its light, rosy fingertips.Zaneerah stared out of the open window, hands fidgeting with the dull sand-colored quilt on her bed.Behind her sat her mom, who held a wooden comb and a piece of Zaneerah’s hair.The brush connected with Zaneerah’s hair in soft strokes, brushing each piece with such delicacy-.Zaneerah cried out as the hairbrush discovered a tangle in her silky smooth hair.“Sorry, Zan,” her mother said, her eyebrows furrowed and her full, red lips pursed.Blinking away the tears that sprouted in the cor...