Comments Posted By Aisha Momand
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Longing. We all long for something. We’re all longing to grasp that which may satiate the thirst in our heart, the hunger for meaning. We are all haunted by absurdity. We are drowning in a sea of chaos and pain. Our hands are clasping for air, clenching in fists, and we are tired, so tired of fighting against the waves. One day, we will succumb—whether self-propagated or through simply being exhausted by time, we will drown. Let go. Let go. Let go.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 08.17.2015 @ 6:29 pm
I am sinking into an abysmal place where I can only find myself thinking of my failures. There is an emptiness within me that I cannot yet fathom. It is obscure and clandestine, hidden behind a impregnable wall. With all my strength, I am trying to drill an entryway into this blockage, but my endeavor is unsuccessful every time I try. My mind is spinning; going round and round, on the merry go round, it goes.
I try to think. My mind is racing. I can’t speak; my mouth has gone numb. There is this odd disassociation of my spirit from my body. I am not dying. I am still alive. I try to breathe. Breathe. Breathe. But my mind cannot comprehend such instructions. It has delved into a primal place, where all it strives for is survival.
I am sinking. The water engulfs me. I do not know where I am, or how I came to be here. The ocean waves dive into my lungs, and my eyes see a blurred sun and blue sky overhead.
I am sinking. I am dying.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 08.27.2014 @ 8:48 pm
Vivienne was coaching the little boy. His little feet were scampering hither and tither, and like an ant he was running across the feet, hitting the soccer ball every so often, and giggling when doing so. It was a pleasing and warm sight to see, and Vivienne could not help but laugh alongside young Adam’s chirpy giggles.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 06.10.2013 @ 6:24 pm
“Cool,” she said, smiling slightly though Luke could still sense hostility. He shrugged and nodded, turned around, and began to walk down the long hallway to get to his class when he heard her voice; immediately, he stopped in his tracks. “Pardon?” he asked, whirling around to face her.
Jezabel was fidgeting with her books. At times holding them close to her chest, and then letting go of the tight hold, and swinging them around this way and that. She bit her lips. A long pause commenced. “Nothing,” she then murmured, though her eyes sought to express all that she was confining within, but was too afraid to let out. Another smile then danced on her face, it was another pretentious smile, as her eyes were otherwise getting starry with tears.
Luke wanted to run towards her, hold her in a gentle embrace, tell her everything would turn out alright, even if they really didn’t – very few predicaments turn out to be alright – but nonetheless, he wanted to make her feel better, but they had gone through too much conflicts in their pasts, always at each other’s ends, and so hugging her, embracing her, brushing his fingers through her silken, gold locks, was out of the questions. Simply out of the question.
Luke nodded. “Cool,” he said quietly, almost to himself, but Jezabel had heard him nonetheless.
“Cool,” she repeated, and turned around. Her blonde locks swung slightly with the winds that had entered upon the opening and closing of doors, as streams of students marched in, some sluggishly walking towards their next classes, dismayed by the thought of having to go through roughly three hours of more schooling before getting home.
“Cool,” they both had said thrice. And thrice, they had faced unuttered circumstances that definitely had been anything but cool.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 01.27.2013 @ 2:34 pm
To a beginning there’s always an end. Molly knew it was near. Her feet scampered across the cold ground as she neared the kitchen, glancing here and there to find any traces of the man she had thought she had known for these past five years. She was wrong. Completely wrong on her assumption. Argus had turned out to be the complete opposite of what she had deemed him to be: wicked, doleful … a killer.
To a begging there’s always an end. Molly neared the kitchen, her finger wrapped around the handle of the knife. It was sharp, piercingly sharp, and she recalled the last time her skin had sliced off while cutting vegetables on the counter. Blood had poured. And it would again today.
He would arrive in a few minutes. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. At exactly five minutes the bell rang. “Yes honey,” she said, in a voice dipped in sweet dew.
Nothing would look amiss. Nothing.
She played up her features, held the knife behind her back, as she began to stride towards the front door, past the portraits of the Buchanan family. They were all going to curse her for erasing the last heir off their tree.
But somethings had to be done.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 01.13.2013 @ 9:58 pm
Experience all there is love, for moments like these will never come again. The time for love is gone, pet – but there is always the pretense of it being there. Perhaps, it was never there to begin with, but it’s rather more soothing to think it had once, long ago – at least, that’s how I see it, when I read books from the days of yore. The sound of your voice is like water dripping down in a silent forest. It is all I can hear from the moment I’ve heard it. Around it, there is a mysterious ambiance that I cannot fathom, no matter how hard I try. Please, tell me – what is it that has bestowed you with such a voice? God, no it can’t be God. There is no such thing. Your voice – It draws one in and once it does, there is no letting go. Like a demon’s bite, it leaves me yearning more.
Murder me. I’d rather like my death if it was by your slender, beautiful hands… but before such a thing occurs, let us drown ourselves in this moment, as though we’re sipping the most ancient and richest of wines, my love.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 01.05.2013 @ 10:48 pm
He sits down before her, where he had placed the large suitcase a few days ago, cross-legged. There’s a faint glimmer in his eyes before he brushes the strands that have fallen from her bun from her paled face. “It’ll be okay,” he says, trying his best to soothe her. “They’re not going to come. I assure you, mon cherie. Listen,” he goes on, grabbing her hand gently in his, and placing it with faint pressure on his chest, “do you hear that?”
Lucius’ heart beneath his chest is hammering – Eliza’s green-black eyes enlarge. A faint smile passes on her face, soon replaced with a worried expression. Lucius frowns. “My pet – what is wrong? My heart – it is beating.”
“No,” she begins, flinching her hand away from his chest. The hair on her arms begin to unfix, her lips begin to tremble, she scoots away on the granite flooring, though her green eyes are still fixated on his grey. “It can’t be – What beast have you now become?” she stammers, her fright revealing through her trembling form.
“Baby,” he begins, trying his best to near her, but she further recoils away. Her back is now perched against the wall, a portrait of the once happy family hanging a few feet above her.
“You – You sold your soul. You were dead,” she whispers, her voice just a beat above the sound of wind.
“How could you say that, love?” he asks. “What have you heard – what makes you think – ”
“I saw you in your coffin!” she cries. “I buried you, goddamnit! I married – I have a husband – I’m pregnant – ”
“With my spawn,” he hisses.
“NO!” she bellows.
“It was me, love. Your husband is no more. I killed him. You think you could leave me so easily … mon cherie?” he asks softly, a paradox to his raptor gaze. “I’m – after all – the devil.”
Lucius de Claremont smiles serenely at the young, pregnant woman crouching before him – she’s pathetic. “I love the fragile,” he whispers.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 01.03.2013 @ 4:00 pm
Employees of the state. We’re nothing more than robots, and we’re oblivious to their control over us. Paranoia. Conspiracies. It’s running loose, all over the world – people unsatisfied with their lives, blaming their unhappiness on authority, the government, and those sitting higher up on the ladder… when I, the rich, have done nothing. I have my wealth, my riches – and it hasn’t given me happiness… and I try not to rob your happiness either… but it’s life… it’s a game of who wins the most. Don’t blame me for cheating. I did what I did to win, but truth is – nobody wins… nobody wins.. we’re all losers. We lose it all when we die.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 11.16.2012 @ 10:37 am
She sat down on the log while her dark hair swished with the wind, as she gazed upwards at the misty sky with her dark, large eyes. A small smile danced on her face, it was a playful smirk, “They’re coming,” she whispered, “I knew they’d come…” she mumbled to herself.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 08.17.2012 @ 3:46 pm
My surroundings were hectic, there were many people zooming pass me with their luggages. I glanced around the terminal, trying to find Mat, but he was nowhere to be seen. I heard a voice, “Ma’am,” it said. I glanced to my left and found a porter.
“Ye—yes?” I asked, tilting an eyebrow. I didn’t have time for petty conversations. Where was Matt?
“Would you like it if I carry your luggage for you Ma’am? Only for two dollars, Ma’am,” the man asked. He had ruffled hair, stripped jeans and an old shirt, most probably from a second hand store. I nodded, slowly and gave him two dollars. His hands were dry, and I winced faintly as my fingers brushed his dry and scaly palms.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 08.18.2012 @ 6:08 pm
She collapsed to the ground and clutched the grass tightly in her hands as she zoned in and out of consciousness. Silent tears crashed down from her anguished face as she gasped for air.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 08.15.2012 @ 8:06 pm
“I want you,” he mumbled, “that’s all I need. All I need is you.” He glared at her with warmth, his emerald eyes glistened as he watched her dark eyes bottle up tears. Her usually facade of bravery and confidence deteriorated, she was panting heavily and her lips were quivering. She was trying to find the right words, but she didn’t know what to say.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 08.14.2012 @ 2:47 pm
It was an easy concept. All I had to do was jump over the fence, run towards the large mansion, do what I did best and grab the large painting in the chamber next to the dining room. However, right now I could feel perspiration gathering around my palms. Could I really do this? I gulped in, closing my eyes shut and comforting myself—I could do this, yes I’ve done missions much more dangerous and riskier in my life. But, then why was I afraid?
Because, I loved him and I knew that painting belonged to his late mother, and it was much more valuable to him than anything else in his possession.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 08.12.2012 @ 1:54 pm
A thin frown was placed on the young girl’s ruby lips when her father disapproved of her present, stating it was too lowly for him. The girl had tried so hard to win her father’s approval, and with such diligence and effort she had finally thought she had found the best gift she could’ve given her father—a small, elegant pendant she had found in an antique store.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 08.11.2012 @ 5:51 pm
I flex my muscles into a smile, my mother holds me tight around my waist as I sit down on her lap for a picture to be taken my the cameraman. She’s always so touchy, it’s pretty annoying, but I’m always a kid in her eyes, even though I’ll be turning thirteen in a few weeks.
It’s family picture day, and as usual my father will be late. Just like he had been for Christmas, my birthday, and nearly every other festivity my mother and I had held. I don’t remember him ever taking any of it seriously. “Whatever,” I say to myself in my mind, pretending not to care about my father’s absence, although deep inside I feel my heart throbbing in pain.
The cameraman takes a step back from the camera to observe us for a moment or two. I feel my face aching, my smile is waning as he studies us more. He shakes his head, with his hands placed on his hips and discloses, “I think you two should a bit to the right.” I roll my eyes. I don’t know why my mother is so keen on taking a yearly family portrait, when our family of three is the complete opposite of what you’d call a ‘happy American family’.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 08.02.2012 @ 11:02 pm
I was trapped in dark corridor, the only light I could see was of the fire before me. I slipped my fingers into my pockets in attempt to find my phone. Perhaps, I could call Mama or Papa and they’d be able to call 911 or the police. However, my effort ended in vain. The fire kept on glazing, dancing in front of me the song of death, coming nearer and nearer, mocking me.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 08.01.2012 @ 4:15 pm
She milked the cow until she got a bucket of milk. That was enough for today to feed the family. Slowly, she placed her hands on the handle of the bucket and rose up from the ground. The sun was shining brightly, so she squinted her eyes as she marched towards her cottage. Alcide and Jess were watching her from the living room’s window.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 07.08.2012 @ 10:52 pm
I was carried down from the second floor down to the first floor where the principle’s office was located. The large and bulky hall monitor shoved men into the room and told me to sit down on one of the seats in front of the principle’s desk. The clock was ticking and I noticed that each tick seemed louder than usual, I guess it was because I was becoming really nervous. Perspiration began to layer my palms as I stared at the door in anxiety. What would I be charged with? Suspension or expulsion? Hopefully, it would be detention. I didn’t want my mom to go through any more pain than she already had. I knew I was a troublesome and rebellious kid, but nevertheless I still feared that I would hurt my mom.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 07.06.2012 @ 1:15 pm
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She distributes lies with not an ounce of guilt in her heart. Her dark tresses fly with the wind as she screams on top of her lungs towards the crowd, asking them to buy the latest edition of the newspaper created by the government. Inwardly, she knows she’s going to have to face the consequences once the public wakes up and witnesses the truth. However, for now she does her duty—distributing the propaganda newspaper, so that she can bring perhaps a loaf of bread home to her family once the day is over.
» Posted By Aisha Momand On 06.26.2012 @ 2:34 pm