Maham Khan
Jan 22, 2018

Working on a short story

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This is a story about an old woman who is looking back on her life. Any comments and critiques would be appreciated. These are the opening lines:

 

Every morning, she made herself a cup of black coffee, pulled up a chair to the kitchen window and looked out. The universe was in curvatures, it was bending all around her. There was small stack of books on the kitchen table. She was trying to understand, to see the thread holding the cosmos together. It may not be a thread, it could be a shadow. The common shadow of all things. She took a long sip. It was 7:30. Her white hair was in a flimsy bun on the back of her neck. Her hands had age spots and the edges of her eyeballs were a little milky. Her mouth had the wise purse her father had had at that age, many years ago. She lit a cigarette.

Outside, the morning was foggy and quiet. Her mother had hated foggy weather. It made her feel suffocated. But Eira loved the mist, she always had. She had lived in Lahore for many years, had woken up on December mornings and seen wisps of white fog drifting eerily by window. Her breath would fog up the glass as she pressed her hands against, willing to look past the haze. On the bus, the passengers would huddle together in their tweed coats, trudging along potholed roads and grassy banks of the canal.

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  • Hamza Muzaffar
    Feb 11, 2018

    I have used a light color today to dress my lips, And a dark touch to shade my eyes. I have stepped out to seek someone. I am standing across the road & my eyes searching for a buyer to take me, seduce me, molest me. To snatch my existence from me. As the sun snatches the existence of ice balls and converts them into the water. I have stepped out in this midnight, To plead someone to shatter me, Shatter every piece of me, To confiscate my identity As the hurricanes have done to islands. It is raining today. Rain trickling down as a curse for me. No one is out here to hear my begging. No one is here today, to shatter me. The drop of rains have made my lips naked, And caused my eyes to flood. My face has gone dark, I don’t want to be here. But – My brother is 3 & my sister is 7! They won’t eat tomorrow Because I wasn’t shattered, I wasn’t broken. I am a beautiful young woman, I have heard them calling me by name, Prostitute.