Burning Middle East E-Book

Saman Bareen Ashraf

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

The story is about the devastating situation of Middle East, where Middle East has been talking to itself. It has a lot of children where two of them are those who are countering one another. One is countering as a helper and the other one as a malicious one.

Leseprobe

Saman Bareen Ashraf

Burning Middle East

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Burnimg Middle East

My name is Middle East. I am a part of land. I have raised a few children; many of them were those who had disappointed me. They hurt me and teased me that I have almost been demolished and destroyed me. My both the sons were countering one another and daughters were also busy. The names of my two sons were Malice and Help whereas the name of my daughter was Prayer. I had seventeen parts all of they had spread all around the land. My son Malice and Help had been countering one another soon in war. When I heard about it, I became sad and gloomy about it. I kissed the head of my son, Malice and asked prayer to go for its defeat. Prayer cried infront of me and started its journey. Although they were my bad words but Help was my more beloved son.

There existed a little boy who got wounded his arm while being shot. After asking a question why it happened so?

“O Allah Almighty, give my son, courage to counter your hardships and to have your blessings at your favor for Him. May he not been misled and may he not been astray!” Amen. The whole prayer, the boy heard was in Arabic.

Prophets came and went by. The area that persisted there, has been telling the stories of sacrifice and bloodshed until today. The spark, which has ignited once, how could it be removed!

Yellow flames and the stories transparent were the stories of declared antagonism with no right to change,

Bow:arrow::bullet:gun

Pick the odd one out!

It was again a bad day, poor healing, unbearable. The moon was peeking into the room and everyone there was ready to meet the valleys of deep sleep. The depth of sea was ready to take into the arms that boy who was poor in health. He was being caring so that not to be hit again by the guns and bombshells. His mother was again busy in prayers. She would have been praying day and night for his baby. It was a small room where her grandmother would come and sleep with her ever and anon. It was carpeted, royal blue in color. Bed was at the carpet, and a comfortable mattress was at its top. He would have been taking his head at rest at the pillow and the sleep took him in his arm before he would meet his grandmother. Next horrible day went when his grandmother came to him and lay besides him.

“o dear boy,” She started.

“Yes grandma,” The boy replied.

“How are you??| She asked sympathetically. “I mean your arm.” She said while putting her glasses at the side of the table.

“I am good.” The boy replied as she turned her face toward him. “But why did it happen so to me?”

“We can’t answer. You should be careful and caring is the habit of good boys.”

“Thank you so much.”

“But let me tell you a story that why did it happen so?” Grandmother said.

It was the story of the times when war was inevitable and that Middle East planted a tree of terror. It was known to all there, it was the land where peace existed and malice does not persist: Hence it is the story of the times when there was one nation named as middle east. Middle East was the area where men and women loved each other; they cared for one another and had flawless adoration for every other. |It was the time when there were no cracks in its foundation. There existed a lifeless statue in the corner of an old building. People would say that it was built by a Great old man who had full access to his worships and prayers. But the matter about his worships and prayers remained wrong invisible to people but in the eyes of God. Let me introduce to the characters of the story first: it was a statue; it had wretchedness as it was coarse black and lifelessness in it. It had a height of six feet: stuck to ground firmly. Arms remained folded, right arm touching the left shoulder and left arm touching the right shoulder, instead should say, crosswise. Feet were not visible but protruded signs of thumbs and four fingers each: in the place of feet was a heap of black material. It seemed it was made up of black glass. It was for amusement. Children of that street would love to run around it and would love to spend time with it. Its silvery surface would be the presentation of hidden enmity. Being looking clean and pious, I could imagine that it was horrible, hideous, by its looks, but cunning and clever, instead of being good. Its cloak was made up of black surface and its eyes remained close and nose in black and lips in black. It had a heart shaped face. Children would sometimes have been using it for hide and seek. It would be shinning like a crystal but not transparent. Nobody knew that a some kind of rivalry persisted in its heart about people there.

Next comes there fairy queen, who had a tiny heart for its fellows, safeguarding the field of fire. It was just six inches. Its feathers were like the feathers of beauty and adoration.

I had a fairy in my tale. It was slim and thin with long legs and red shoes she had worn in her feet, long stockings. She seemed pretty with long yellow hair, a head band of shinning golden color and a cocktail dress. She was born to a family of young fairies and it was the carnival. There a magician had come and from where she purchased a packet of red ball, as as she threw them on her soiled field, she felt everything warm, blazing and glowing. The tiny balls had grown up into the long bushes of fire. The fire was hot.