Lighter Head

The boy at the cafeteria, he looks at me that extra bit longer. I tell him I want my coffee. He imitates what he thinks he normally is handing it to me with a pathetic smile that changes the moment I turn my back and then he starts staring again. The man at that far corner too, stares. And then, all of their eyes turn. Men look at me in a different way, I think, secretly smiling at myself, then fall into a seat.

    I spilled the coffee. Damn. I go to the bathroom to save what can be saved. I meet my reflection in the mirror, and out of the blue, I remember how I often amused myself imagining Brenda Thompson at high school bald. It made me laugh. I laugh now.. And, you are in there, at the top of my head. I laugh at you too, then laugh at myself. I laugh till the bits of my stomach hurt. I push myself against the wall and cry. You told I was nothing but something beautiful to look at. I take a second look at the mirror; I'm the same, just hairless.

Self-portrait with Cropped Hair by Frida Khalo

The Words above: "Mira que si te quise, fue por el pelo, Ahora que estas pelo ya no te quiero"

Translation:"look at what I loved you for, it was for your hair. Now that you are bald, I love you no longer"

Been a while since I last wrote a flash fiction

55-Girl with Burnt Eyes

I plunged my hands deep into the texture of a scarred face. Recurrent echoes kept on floating back within the narrow walls of the room before fading into the grey lines on the frontiers of smoldered fancies. The image had a hole. “Do I get to be the same?” pouted girl with burnt eyes.


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55-Unify

Your oneness is gone as you thrust your heart between my ribs and let it beat the same. Solidity is forsaken. We melt into each other then slither down the cliffs of solitude.  The violins of night sing their melody. My body loses half of its soul and wanders again in its desolate self. Alone.

55-Hallucinations

Strings of images intertwine. Before I can touch them, they fade into the blankness leaving me amidst plays of black and white. I clutch my lungs to narrow the holes and let oxygen in. Tears crystallize on the ground. Between the air and the air again, I let go of my eyes to see you.

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55-Resistance

Symphonies of destruction play. We recoil in the darkest hole. And they hunt us. They are within us. Our rage turns into wails. Into tears. And they never hear. So we burn. We burn them all. We burn us all. They fade in the whirlwind of days. But we’ll always last, in the particles of air.

Song 12: Recess-Muse

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55-Silent Confessions

The insidious night wraps its dark covers around the windows of my room. A hoarse scream echoes through the walls, reflected right on my face, but I have no wish to hear. I cover my ears and sink deep under the quilts. But it’s there, eating up my innards. “It’s me, I killed him!”

Check Out G-Man 

Image via here 

Day 10: Soaked-Muse

Theme Thursday: Because We Have Always Been Eating

Appearances.

     It is always about appearances, and sometimes nothing but appearances. We so perfectly carry on with our rituals, without a care in the world why. We always did that, that’s why. Yes that’s why. And maybe some other day –a day that has long sunk into the waves of time leaving those traces that we blindly follow - things actually had a reason.

      Your spoon is dug deep into your plate and you then move it to your mouth, swallow and have another spoonful. And I cannot help wondering, do you even know what you are drinking? But you are drinking it, because every Thursday for the past twelve years, you have always drunk it. Both of our lips move and our throats rumble because some vocal cords seem to be vibrating in there. People always talk while having their lunch, but I reckon that somewhere, we forgot the words and we drone on in our cacophony. As you sit there across the table, I marvel at the face of that stranger that you’ve become. Since when do you wear glasses? And what colour is your eyes? Oh wait…there’s a much better question: Why are we married? I know the answer of that one, simply because we have always been married.

Check out Theme Thursday for more takes on this theme.

Day 6: Fragile-Delta Goodrem

Day 7: Taking Chances-Celine Dion

Day 8: Another day-Paramore

Day 9: Hello-Evanescence 

image via here 

Awards!

Allie gave me the Honest Scrap Award

Now I should say ten things about myself.

1-I hate school (naturally)

2-I don't like being around people.

3-I hate doing something without knowing why

4-I've been drinking Coffee since i was ten.

5-I hate shopping.

6- Okay, so enough with the things that I hate, now I have to figure out something that I actually like. I like....Science Fiction and Dystopian Fiction!

7-I love the sea in the night when everyone is asleep.

8-I have never travelled outside Egypt.

9-I have a proclivity towards frugality. Don't get it wrong, I just hate wasting money on stuff that are not worth it-aka not books.

10-I am done and that tells about me that I have nothing else to say.

Okay so now, I'll pass this award to six super-awesome bloggers:

 Stars in my inkpot and crying skies.

 Bruises of the soul...

 ink and abstract.

 Crashing in my Cranium

 jp's comics and stuff

 THE PHOENIX RISING

Magpie Tales: Reflections

The word kept on resonating through the chambers of her unfathomable soul, echoing the depth of her insecurities. Covering her ears would be of no use, it reflected on the shredded glass surrounding her.

Ugly                                                               

Ugly

Ugly

Inescapable. Inevitable. Ugly.

The colours drenched her face, change it beyond recognition. Yet it would always be there.  Inescapable. Inevitable. Ugly. And she knew it. And she loathed it.

She threw herself into the ruthless arms of another night, waded through it, begging for temporary amnesia. She saw herself in the reflection of many ravenous, illaudable eyes. Finally she felt….. beautiful. . Woke up bare and alone, Inescapable. Inevitable. Ugly.

Check Out  Magpie Tales 

30 Days of Music, Day 4: Cross Pollination-Muse
                             Day 5: Give Me a Sign-Breaking Benjamin 

55-Raped

I let my heart beat with the whishing leaves. The grass caressing my naked body and it’s somewhat comforting. I open my eyes and everything is red. I try to scream but the broken teeth suffocate me. A face in the moon appears. You carry me in your arms, and I close my eyes again.

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image via here
30 days of Music, day 3: Cosmic Love-Florence and The Machine

Magpie Tales: Burning Ashes

I woke to breathe in the air of my dream. I knew it would never be mine, and yet I’d always dream it.

I masked it.

 I hid it.

You were never to see for you would never feel. But I was too weak. I stripped myself from those woven lies and let you see me; the shadow of your heart.

You relentlessly took my heart from my ribs and held in your cold hands, squeezed the blood out of it, and left me with no heart at all. I wailed. I wept. But you wouldn't give it back to me.

Too late, for eternity it was yours.

 I tried to hold you, but you slipped between my fingers. Never to be restrained by your love. Never to be restrained by me. And so you flew away to your freedom, leaving me ever burning in your old ashes.

 

Check Out Magpie Tales 

Blank Spots and Loose Ends

Staring at the darkness of her eyelids, plays of light start to form and soon, a fragile web of images drowns Emilia.

A dress hanging loosely on a young girl’s body swaying with the breeze. The color?…blank. She hugged her jaded teddy bear tightly seeking protection from its lifeless, defenseless body. The wind wafted. In which direction?…blank. A woman appeared. The color of the eyes, the shape of the nose, the length of the hair?....blank. She gingerly touched the little girl and shoved her hands in her pockets. The little girl tilted her body and let out a scream of joy “Mommy!” The woman hushed her and wrenched her to a hidden area in the street.

“I have to go now honey,” the mother said while trying to draw a smile on her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“When will you be back?” The little girl’s eyes sparked with innocence

“I don’t know. But I promise I will” A stream of tears started pouring down the mother’s eyes. She quickly wiped it, smiled, and found herself crying again.

With that, she faded.

She never saw her again. But in her heart, Emilia always knew she will.

The loose end

image via here 

In Love With the Enemy

In his innocent blue eyes, I saw the fires of love igniting with every color.

In my depth, I loved him too. But what I loved more, was how when I’d tortured him, he came back asking for more. How when I’d broken my promises one time after the other, he never doubted. How when I’d told him I’d be back, he waited. How he’d held on to my cryptic, twisted words and always believed.

 The woman in me longed to be with him, within him, longed to be weak needing protection. But then I remembered how I burnt for freedom and swore not to ever let any thing bereave me from it, not even love. And I hated myself for loving him. He had to always want me, and never have me.

Now, as I watch from my window the trees coated in white, until the glistening sun shall let the roses blossom but later burn them by its heat waiting for the wind to escort them to other places and eventually they’d be coated in white again, it’s my turn to wait.

Magpie Tales: Losing Inner Weight

The endless blank pages stir in my heart to fill them. I cut my heart  open and let the blood seep. 

Nothing

Nothing

I listen so hard and drown all the other voices away, as I let my breathing go in sync with the song. But I can no longer get to the heart of it, I can no longer feel it

Nothing

Nothing

Looking at my reflection on water, I shout, "Who are you?" and the water vibrates. I let my hands get to the depth of the reflection,  and I find it

Everything

Everything

Theme Thursday: Bottle

The Bottle Never Fell

The Earth had just started the thirteenth hour of its revolution around the sun this day. The Christ had been born 1994 years ago.

Your hair was neatly wrapped in the rubber band, except for one lock that escaped it and glided gracefully on one side of your face. The flour covered your blue apron and the long fingers of your hand. Your head tilted towards me with a smile that disappeared as fast as it made its first appearance. Horror abruptly colored your face, as your hands unintentionally pushed the bottle from its place on the verge of the table.

Shoot!

The bottle never fell. Its fragments never covered the floor. The milk in it never varnished our kitchen floor. We never ate that cake. The Earth never completed its rotation around the Sun.

We managed to rebel on the rigid rules of time; steal one second of it and make it forever ours. Somewhere, everything remained unchanged; frozen. 

Wanna play? Check out Theme Thursday 

The Telephone

Her weary body fidgets uncomfortably in the big arm chair in the living room.  A glance towards the wall where the clock is hung tells her its 12:43. Fine creases between her eyebrows are formed and she forces herself to look away. She endeavors to direct all her concentration towards the-not-so-serene sound of her breath. In and Out. In and Out. In and Out.
And then she fails.

Soon enough, she finds herself hovering on the edges of sleep, as though strong magnets are pulling her body and making sleep more and more inducing. But no. She opens her eyelids and slowly gets on her feet and heads for the kitchen. She makes herself coffee using the espresso machine and then pours it into her favorite cup while staring unseeingly at the darkness outside the window. 
And then the phone rings.

She runs as fast as her legs allow after throwing the cup on the mahogany table beside the kitchen's entrance. Half way through, she stumbles and falls. She curses under her breath and runs some more. Finally, she  gets it. Almost breathless she picks it up and answers. She sighs heavily; it was a wrong number.
And then, she gets back to her chair.

Broken Tones

You start the engine and slowly fade in the distance, or was it all in my head? Did you just fly out of my life but I wanted to see the moment in slow motion? The wind erases the car traces bereaving me of the only proof I got of  you being real.

I am losing you, and with you I'm losing part of myself till no longer know what's left of me with you gone. A ghost I've become; seeing everything, always failing to be touched. I am a rock that refuses to move in the stream of life; a life with no you in it.

The walls of the room held back the sounds of our reckless laughter, echoing it back at me here, echoing it back at me now. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, knowing that it's the weak voice of memory I'm hearing.

You are stealing me, stealing my every living moment as you so easily break the locks of my mind, and once again take away my freedom of thought. You are in my head. You are welcome.

I spend my life seeing endless scenarios of your life without me in them, certain that you do the same. That's the only place we meet: in thought.

 

The chords of my violin are cut.

And when I play

I hear broken tones

I'm not empty

Just full of voids

 

 

Detached

It lingers somewhere in my heart. My heart beats. Blood runs in my veins. And now it's running in my blood. It's all over my body. I can feel it constructing its shield over my existence to block any other feeling but itself. The shield has holes created and widened by time. In a couple of hours I'll be back to my old self again. But I can't take it. It's torturing me.

It all started with a thought, popping up in my mind. This thought overpowered my heart and created the feeling torturing me now . It always happens at the wrong times.

Amidst the crowds, I feel lonely.

During the few moments of happiness, I hold back my tears.

And now, though my lungs breathe still, I'm suffocating.

 

I lose things all the time. I stare at objects for hours and when I'm recalled to this world, I find myself having no remembrance of the thing I was staring at.  People call this thoughtlessness, but I call it thoughtfulness. This is what thoughts do to me; they detach my mind from the rest of my body for it's too small to allow them all in. They leave me, body here, and mind elsewhere.

Time and place no longer matter.

 

I always though it would be nice for me to have an on and off button for my mind, to control the thoughts that possess every single cell in my body. But, would I take it?

 I hate silence. I hate having the ticking of the clock as the only sound in the room. I always have music in the background. But if the loudest of all voices was silenced, would I take it?

 

Thoughts,

Life with you is torture

Life without you is death.

 

Guiding Stars

All the roads in my way overlapped to form a big circle. No beginning. No end. I'm left with no map to guide me to the right path. I'm only supposed to walk till one day I find answers. Questions have been torturing me and I cannot control them. It's like trying to get a grip on a swarm of bees. I must find the answers. I must. I don't want to waste all my life searching. I don't want to spend all my time walking. I want to sit. I want to have a break.

I built the walls not the bridges and I'm left with only regret as my companion. I tried to climb the walls but they are too high. I brought a shovel and started digging a hole but it's dark underground and I'm afraid of getting lost, lost more than I am already. Now I'm ready to create a window for my cage, hoping that maybe one day I'll find the key to the door. Or maybe I'll be found. Maybe my savior will find it for me. But I can't wait. What if he never makes it

Oh, you are the answer to my questions. You are the key that will let me out. Dreams, guide my way. But first I must believe. I must follow the flickering star in my dark sky that will never delude me. I promise I'll follow, only when it appears.

Love Beyond Reasons

I love writing. Why? I've got no idea.

When the Romans used Cupid to symbolize love, they wanted to convey a message. The wanted to tell us that this is what Love is, a child throwing his arrows recklessly on hearts, without ever stopping to ask himself  "Why" or "When" or "How". It's beyond reason.

When you love something for particular reasons, you are connecting two pieces of cloth with strings. The strings are cut one after another by the effect of time. The bond is weakening. The bond no longer exists. But when you love something for no reason at all, the two pieces are overlapped. They are one piece. And can you ever separate something from its own self?

  I am writing and writing is me

Strings

I'm in a car, driving at full speed, not knowing where to go, but I'm going away. 

That's good enough for me now.

You can call me a coward if you want, I'll simply not care.

Your giggles filled the room.

I wished I could be happy too.

But I couldn't.

Not when I looked through your pretenses.

Not when I heard the moan disguised in your laughter.

To see you I used my heart, not my eyes.

And I saw that you'd been in pain.

 

Some wounds just cut you so deep, that when the scar is no longer there, you are still internally bleeding.

 

Our hearts are connected with strings that no matter the distance will never be weakened.

 

So stop bleeding.

I am bleeding too.

And I can't run away.