Author: hafsarkhalil

Stories

It’s a funny story (no pun intended), but I started writing these whenever I had writer’s block. Turns out they are really fun to write. Enjoy reading them as much as did writing them. Happy reading!

Haych Traveller

Hi everyone. One of my favourite things in life is experiencing new things – places, foods, and cultures – so it stands to reason that I, of course, love travelling. On that note, let me introduce you to my travels, where you can expect to take a journey with yours truly. Read on for my experiences, anecdotes, rambles – you get the picture – and enjoy.

Stay tuned for things to come.

Justice

First, there will be a whisper –
An echo that ripples through the air
Unnoticed, undetected, invisible.
But with time, with each passing day, its voice will grow –

Oh, will it grow:
Stronger, powerful, benevolent
And when it speaks, everything will still and listen and gaze upon its ultimate beauty
For it will be beautiful –
A majestic judgement to behold.

It will come.

It will come for the walls of oppression 
For tyranny’s every immorality 
It will come for the strengths of occupation
And all the terrors of humanity

Heed my call
For it will come.

They will silence you
Cut you
Kill you
Go to the ends of the earth to stop you

But remember, 
It will come.

But until it comes, gather the warriors
To wage the worthy war
Wielding words
We will silence them
Cut them 
Stop them.

And when the final trumpet blows
We will know –
And the sinners will know
That it has come.

Hear my call: Justice will come 
– and will always prevail.

Soho Square

The birds were the first to start the song,
filling the air with their sweet soprano.
Then came the cars, screeching in staccato
and all the people in different pitch and tempo

The men and women in their sharp suits 
enjoying the sun and their 3-pound salads,
whilst the workmen in hard hats and sleeves of tats
Rested on the green, dining on sushi.   

Lunch in London was a beautiful matter;
people local, foreign and far,
so different and akin as they stood
frozen in motion at that moment in time.

And slowly over time, the song strengthened in sound,
pulling all into its lively tune – 
‘Hi there, would you like a game of table tennis?’
‘Excuse me, is this seat taken?’

For this is the song of London life
rising above all odds and strife.
Stronger than before
and better than ever,

so when I look from my keyboard,
I smile at what I see.
For this is the heart of London, 
and as good as it’ll ever be.

The Unveiling

Reality has come a’knocking 
in the cold light of day
and those once painted Saints
Are all cast away.

The cards have collapsed
and the air tastes stale
all those who were once hailed
are heckled, jeered, jailed

So when the light is cast
and the shadows flushed out
the sinners are seen for what they are;
pale, pathetic, pockmarks on society – 

they have been seen
they have been measured
and found, completely wanting.

Welcome to The Unveiling.

Demons Within

They tell me to open up - to let them in so that they can help. 
But they won’t understand the pain I push through. The pain I try to forget. 

They don’t know of the wars I’ve waged, of the demons I battle, of the darkness that threatens to destroy me.
They don’t know of the terror I’ve endured, of the despair I feel, nor the innocence I mourn.
They don’t see my starless skies, the tremble in my words, the burden on my soul.

They tell me to open up - to let them in.
But they don’t understand that I can’t - that the horrors I hold to my heart, are mine and mine alone.

Mine to suffer. Mine to stand up to. And in time, mine to move on from.
Because whatever we go through, makes us stronger. 

They tell me to let them in so that they can help.
But don’t they understand that by just standing by me, they help keep me in the light?

Dawn on the Dune

Azazel raced across the desert, creating a storm of sound and sand as he crouched low on his horse. Every so often, he would glance back, squinting against the dry cloud. He was too old for this – too old to do this again, but they were getting stronger. They were coming. He could feel it. He shivered unconsciously as he felt the wet slither further down his bones. The Blue Giants of the sea were gaining in power and followers by the day. They were coming. And this time, the Sand Knights were unprepared. Alone, all would be lost, the sea drowning out the dunes of the South. He sighed in resignation. Yes, there would be one last battle to fight before he could disappear from the world – once and for all.

The Calm Before the Storm

You can do this.

Raphael nodded to himself, willing himself to believe the voice only he heard. He could do this. They depended on him. He could –

Suddenly, it came.

Pure, gut-wrenching pain seared his mind, dominating all thought and sensation. That was all he could feel – all he could focus on as it tore away at the fraying seams that held his sanity.  Collapsing onto the edge of the cliff, he hunched over, clawing at the bed of rocks beneath him. He hissed as the pain increased tenfold, his nails digging deeper into the gravel. He was barely aware of the wounds that had opened, of the grit embedding itself into his hands, of the blood pooling at his fingertips.

Clear your mind. Don’t fight us.

He opened his mouth to release a snort of disbelief, but instead, a guttural roar ripped through his throat, the muscles in his neck straining under the tension.

‘I never asked for this!’ His snarl broke through the storm, calling out to the voice that haunted him, heart and soul. ‘I never wanted this! Why me?’

It is in your blood. It can only be you. Only you can help them.

Before he could throw back a retort, another onslaught of pain ploughed further into his head, his agonised, pleading screams lost in the biting wind of the storm.

Then suddenly, it fell silent. Deathly silent. For the first time in months, his mind was his own, the voice now a part of him.

Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes flickering, the black in his pupils bleeding into his emerald irises. Sitting back, his glanced over his arms and hands in undisguised awe. For a few seconds as he watched, inky tendrils curled beneath his skin, pulsing with a life of their own, before fading. But he knew they were still there. Running a finger over his forearm, it suddenly displayed the network of vessels that lay lurking beneath his skin, humming with unadulterated energy. Keeping his finger pressed to his arm, he watched in fascination as the streams of blood that ran from his fingers ceased, fading into scars and then disappeared altogether as if they had never existed. Dropping his hand, he raised his eyes, drinking in the sight that greeted him. Across the horizon, the once overwrought skies were clearing, sunlight seeping through the gaps in the quickly dissolving clouds. Below, the raging foam horses had quietened as though lulled to sleep, the tranquil waves now caressing the cliff side. The birds were singing once again, filling the stiff air with their serenading songs.

It was over; the calm after the storm had arrived.

Bouncing to his feet with a newly gained agility, he strode with dark intent. He saw it now – what they had been telling him. He saw the past – the blood and violence that tarnished the deceptively attractive town. He could see the evil for what it was now, hiding as it was, a serpent coiled tightly around it.

The calm after the storm was here – but it wasn’t there to stay.

Thy Kingdom Come

It was a quiet day in the Capitol – the quietest it had seen in days. An uneasy stillness filled the air, as the streets remained deserted. Death – dark, terrible death fouled the Earth, the colour of evil leaving its stain. The air was strife with the stink of ozone, overlaid only by the rotting stench of flesh – human flesh. Crows circled above like thick swarms of darkness, fixed on their next meal. A gong sounded, sending its vibrations far and wide, echoing and reverberating. It was a signal; slowly, a door creaked ajar, a tiny face peeking out into the open. In quick succession, another opened, followed by another and soon, the shanty streets released their small occupants. The children all scrambled out of their crudely-constructed huts, weary of their narrow time constraints as they foraged for food. The older amongst them helped the younger when they slipped and stumbled out of fatigue and gnawing hunger. But they had long since ceased covering their eyes to protect their innocence against the pockmarked corpses that littered the ground. For it had been months since they were young in all but age; worldly weariness gleamed in all their eyes. Suddenly, and all too soon, the warning gong rang in the air again. Within seconds, all of them were back inside, doors all slammed shut.

It was quiet in the Capitol – the quietest it had seen in days. It was quiet, but how long it would remain was another question.