fiction

By Adnan Adrees & Dawud Qadri

It was the night when hope was once again rekindled as the beast did stir; for all his villainies a masked avenger tore through him with bloody execution. The game had just begun and the pieces were moving into place.

The chamber was bathed in darkness as flames danced in the fireplace illuminating three figures sat at a table. No one spoke as Malchior walked in and took his place at the table. The ministerial boardroom was a windowless chamber which gave off an ageless aura. Malchior surveyed his fellow ministers before glancing to his left where an ornate mirror hung upon the wall but bore no reflection.

Such an ugly girl!

This is a story where the main character is unfortunately not aesthetically pleasing. She has no high cheekbones or thick, long lashes or even a fair face. It's rather dark and her lips are a little too wide, her nose a little too long and it's not the perfect oval-shape. To be honest, she's not pretty.
Her father thinks she is, but father's think their daughters are the most beautiful, because a daughter IS the most beautiful child where as a the son is their pride. It just works that way.
Even with a hijab, a face is the first thing a person sees, and first impressions of this girl are not too good.

Well, on with the story.

It was a dark night in the city of London. Big Ben gonged loudly- its glowing face showed that it was twelve at midnight. Few cars traveled on the roads at this late hour. The numbers of people, though, were many- punks spray painting the once-spotless walls of the council flats, late night shoppers walking like zombies into the 24-hour superstores, drunken people singing the sorrows of their life to strangers, men wandering around aimlessly after being kicked out by their wives- yes, it was another night in London with people bustling about.

By Adnan Adrees

In the not so distant future…

“As mankind becomes more dependant on the science of what they can see and understand; when the knowledge of the blessed becomes lost to the antiquities of time and the warnings of the coming age are seen as superstition, the world shall become susceptible to the lure of the false redeemer. Catastrophe shall befall as the towers of gold crumble to rubble and evil shall rise once more. When the cursed arrived, few shall see and even fewer shall believe. But even in the darkest of times there is still hope.”