Posts by Afreen Zeb

The Real Monsters

I have always been afraid of monsters. Darkness petrified me for the fear of the things that it hid. As a child, I fervently prayed to god every night before I went to sleep that there be nothing under my bed. I checked and rechecked my closet so I wouldn’t encounter a ghost. I spent my life being afraid of things that only my imagination could concoct.   The fear

A Walk To Remember

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> She was sleeping silently next to me, but I knew she was only pretending. She was probably wide awake, thinking a million different things, just as I was.   “Let’s go for a walk. I am tired of this place,” I whispered to

The White Walls of Punishment

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> There is nothing but whiteness here. The walls are white, the floor is white, the goddamned ceiling is white. I can’t tell where this whiteness begins and where it ends. I’m covered in white clothes from head to toe. I feel as if

An Unlikely Friendship

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> He had been observing me for a while. I was always alone because none of the other children played with me. I was the outcast and the only friends I had were made up. He would sit alone in the park, looking at

An Unopened Jar

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> It was a sultry summer afternoon when it all started. She was comfortable, content, and happy. She was laughing and giggling, for the first time since she had left her home. Her happiness made me feel something I had never felt. For a

A Bloody Painting

A rotting carcass. Flesh falling off of broken bones. Open wounds, flowing blood. Yet the body is perfectly stitched together. I am only dead within. My reflection echoes hollowness. A plastered smile on my bland face. Can it convince?   A blank canvas. Splattered with paint. Or is it blood? It is just my bleeding dreams and hopes. Scattered bits of oozing brains. Am I dying to create or dying

I Fell In Love With Parts

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> I fell in love with parts of people. They weren’t something a fairy tale would mention, like the skin color of Snow White. They were just something usual, but something very special for me. For I attached memories to them, moments that I

Love Nestled in Death

This morning, as the sun stroked the world out of sleep, The concrete had an existential crisis, It whispered to earth in its agony, Of its desire to not hold itself together anymore, The earth trembled with the weight of its sorrow, And building after building crumbled in their heartbreak.   The walls whisper of the grief that resides within, Of the people with lost hopes and broken hearts, The

The Fire

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> ‘Get up, it’s time for dinner. And stop playing with the candles. You know that fire is dangerous,’ Amma shook me as she called out to me and broke my reverie.   As I got up to join my family for dinner, I

I Was Her Favorite

I was her favorite. She would take me with her on special occasions. Sometimes when she was feeling low, I made her feel better. I made her feel confident and sensual. I erased all doubts she would ever have about herself. When she looked at the mirror, how she looked with me, she believed she was beautiful. She was incomplete without me, I was an important part of her personality,