fiction

And the not-so-anticipated sequel of 'Summer of 1994', the story continues from where we left off last time. Enjoy

"The Summer Of 1994" was mostly about my night life and nightmares. This story gives a little background on me and things that happened to me during the "waking" hours. If you have read "Summer of '94" you know a little about what I dreamed about and things of that nature.

I grew up in a very, very, very religious home. I grew up with an understanding of God and the teachings of the prophets.

I also realized and knew that there was a dark side to life as well.

Salaam

I'm in uni today deleting old files and backing up what's important and I've come across something I wrote a couple of months back.

Remember that story about a rich sheikh torturing some dude who crossed him in business? When I read about it I felt sick and so that day I started to write a story...it was an interesting story and one that didn't get finished. But the prose was smooth and for that reason I didn't want to delete it. So here it is, me getting annoyed with injustice and subsequently getting creative:

Chapter 3

By Adnan Adrees & Dawud Qadri

Fifteen years ago a gateway to hell was opened and a plague of evil spread across the land. London was in complete darkness for days and in that time the hordes of hell infiltrated every level of government. Afterwards there was chaos. Against such opposition the Prime Minister became over-whelmed; people were being slaughtered, cities were in flames and in his panic he resigned. A new Prime Minister was elected: Prime Minister Ruban Gadriel and then the world changed forever.

Something that is up on my other blog and was written a good couple of years ago, inspired by another Firefly based fic called cradle.

If you have not seen Firefly AND read some other fan fic out there, this will most likely mean absolutely nothing. Even if you have, some of the subtleties may not be easy to spot.

Read review and rate please.

Shadow Company - Introspection

It was a cold daark winters night. The streets were empty and uninviting and I had to get home. The bus was late so I thought I would walk it home through the GRAVEYARD.

The graveyard was big and dark, but it was the fastest way home and I wanted a cup of hot chocolate. nice and warm.

There is no one around so this walk will be short and uneventful. Its not like there are ZOMBIES are there? the graveyard is empty. There will be nothing there that can hurt me.

Hey what's that? an open grave? so weird. why would it be open? I thought they only buried people during the day... so where the coffin? is that a ladder I can see in there? why?

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.”