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Short Story Competition

Imaan

Imaan

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Muhammad TAimoor said:
Happens with me all the time :D It's the sole reason why I shifted to short stories :D
15 Whole chapters? That's like, ALOT of work :O
Click to expand...

Nah, it isn't work LOL. It is a hobby. I just write what is on my mind and most the time my fingers tire before my brain. :D
Every teacher I had, told me to become a writer!
 
Imaan

Imaan

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Rutzaba said:
Bhai doesnt like changing user names. Probably gonna ignore u he is :p but change avvy atleast
Click to expand...

I like the username haha, and the 321 parts means "Always armed and ready to take off, like get set, on your marks, gooooo!" :D What is bhai BTW? I only see Usama and 321 there!
 
Imaan

Imaan

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Chapter 3​

When his eyes opened an hour later, people were watching fearfully from afar as the soldiers scanned through the rubble of the lodge, looking for any signs of his body. He watched appallingly, as two military jeeps unloaded a dozen soldiers.

Instinctively, an idea came into his mind. He had not used any before, but he had watched many movies and seen enough to know the basics.

Without a second thought, he pulled the pin from the grenade and threw it as precisely as possible. The grenade hit its target. He saw two soldiers falling to the ground. He aimed the second one and watched it hit the jeep. It caused something to explode in the vehicle, bursting into flames.

‘At least now they know I am alive, for all I care!’ he mouthed.

Thoughtfully, he watched the scenery unfolding; the bloodied bodies and burnt limbs.

And suddenly, out of nowhere, he cried out in pain, ‘Good gracious, I’ve killed somebody.’

Too soon, the familiar sounds of the helicopters were heard.

He kept crying out to himself. ‘I killed somebody, I killed somebody. Today, I am a killer!’

He looked horrified as the lifeless bodies were being taken away.

He had just earned a new title, ‘The Rebel’.

Chapter 4​

He knew his only choice was to join the rebels. He would not live a humiliated life. He thought back to how his life had changed after the protests started.

He though back to that evening when he was returning from work, while he listened attentively to the radio about the protests.

And every day it went on and on, until it reached a month. But, it did not only grow in days or months. It grew in numbers too!

He became restless as the days wore on. He listened day in and day out about those protesting for change. And each day the ‘hope’ he held in his heart grew. Like a candle, the flame did not die down, instead it lit up his heart’ yearning for that ‘hope’.

When he returned home that day, he pretended to act normal. He called out cheerfully, ‘Where are you little princess? Daddy is home.’

He showered and prayed. He laid the table and helped her cook dinner.

He was uneasy on the table; he ate little and spoke less.

She sensed something was not quite right, but when she questioned him, he brushed it off lightly by making an excuse about work. She didn’t ask more, she grew accustomed to his behaviour over the last few days.

That night he innocently asked her, ‘Have you heard about the protests against the Assad regime?’

She did not expect anything as yet. She simply said, ‘Yes, kind of...’

Apprehensively he continued, ‘I was thinking perhaps we should join them and stand united with our people...’

She turned to face him, somewhat confused.

‘Our people?’ she questioned.

‘Yes,’ he stated.

‘Do you know they are against our government?’ she asked quietly.

But, he did not stop. He knew his mind was already set.

‘Yes. They are merely protesting for some change. Perhaps it might bring about the much needed change we all want.’ He said bitterly.

‘Change!’ she cried out, ‘They are trouble makers. What change do we need? We have all we want.’

‘Yes, change,’ he said slowly, stressing on the word ‘and hope too.’

‘Hope for what?’ she asked coldly.

‘Hope for those who never had hope in this country.’ He simply stated.

He still remained silent. Tears fell onto his cheeks.

‘Hope for the less fortunate, hope for the widows and orphans.’ And then almost in a whisper, he continued, ‘and hope for those languishing in the regimes prisons.’

She stood up, thinking deeply ‘Do you mean the protesters that opposed our government?’

He started at her hard and long. Tears welled in his eyes and he bit his lip. He became silent. As silent as ever.

‘Who are those languishing in prison?’ she asked again.

‘My father...’ he whispered.

He looked away apprehensively. He knew what she would say. He did not want to hear it. No! He was not prepared to hear it. Like a disturbed child, he lowered his eyes to the ground. He did not have the courage to look up, to say anymore.

Her face took a second to register the shock!

‘I am sorry.’ she said coldly.

That day changed his entire life...it opened a new chapter in his life titled, “On the Run”.
 
usama321

usama321

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Imaan said:
I like the username haha, and the 321 parts means "Always armed and ready to take off, like get set, on your marks, gooooo!" :D What is bhai BTW? I only see Usama and 321 there!
Click to expand...
Lol, never thought of it that way xD

Anyway, that's another good chapter there (y)

Though there are some minor things, like there is supposed to be a timer on a grenade, it doesn't explode on hitting something. The way you have written it sounds a bit odd.

One thing that i find odd is how come the mother is still with the government, even after the death of her child :eek: Anyway, i hope you'll put some light on this soon.
 
Imaan

Imaan

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usama321 said:
Lol, never thought of it that way xD

Anyway, that's another good chapter there (y)

Though there are some minor things, like there is supposed to be a timer on a grenade, it doesn't explode on hitting something. The way you have written it sounds a bit odd.

One thing that i find odd is how come the mother is still with the government, even after the death of her child :eek: Anyway, i hope you'll put some light on this soon.
Click to expand...

LOL :p! U will after the details are revealed...
Thanks for the input. :)
 
Muhammad TAimoor

Muhammad TAimoor

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Written sometime back. Hope its good :D

The room lit with moonlight as she swayed the curtain to the side, facing the full moon that shone in the midst of grey clouds. The night felt magical, a strange quiet whistling filled the atmosphere where each star portrayed the north star, shining with its utmost potential. Her weak existence could do nothing but feel, her glittering eyes could only watch what was to befall. She felt helpless, but atleast she felt the life around her, those endless grasslands, faint glimmer of sea far away and the cold breeze that gently caressed her hand. She hoped someone might rescue her, save her life. But she knew nobody would. It wasn't a fairy tale, or was it? A faint glimmer in the sky far away caught her attention. Her hope grew stronger. The silver object turned its path towards the window, behind which a girl stood hoping for another chance. She could feel it coming, an angel, a saviour. She was saved. She closed her eyes, inhaled the magical atmosphere, and shouted like never "This is my Fairytale!". With wings stretched like a pegasus, the plane crashed right into the house. Sure it wasn't a fairy tale.
 
A

***amd***

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Muhammad TAimoor said:
Written sometime back. Hope its good :D

The room lit with moonlight as she swayed the curtain to the side, facing the full moon that shone in the midst of grey clouds. The night felt magical, a strange quiet whistling filled the atmosphere where each star portrayed the north star, shining with its utmost potential. Her weak existence could do nothing but feel, her glittering eyes could only watch what was to befall. She felt helpless, but atleast she felt the life around her, those endless grasslands, faint glimmer of sea far away and the cold breeze that gently caressed her hand. She hoped someone might rescue her, save her life. But she knew nobody would. It wasn't a fairy tale, or was it? A faint glimmer in the sky far away caught her attention. Her hope grew stronger. The silver object turned its path towards the window, behind which a girl stood hoping for another chance. She could feel it coming, an angel, a saviour. She was saved. She closed her eyes, inhaled the magical atmosphere, and shouted like never "This is my Fairytale!". With wings stretched like a pegasus, the plane crashed right into the house. Sure it wasn't a fairy tale.
Click to expand...
Ma Shaa Allah, u write amazing bro (y)
 
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