The fasting story part 4

The sky is grey and she is blue. The red roses no longer grow from the front garden bush. She is glad to be alive today, which makes a difference to her mood. Her mood - rueful.

The weight loss pricks her behaviour into a jolly sadness, a nice pain. Seven minutes to Iftar.

- By Laila Ali Haid

The fasting story part 3

Cogs, wires and jellies, useless at standstill, are put to task by the ghost in the machine.

Bones creak and teeth grind, she stands up heavily and winces at her reflection. Loveless and happy she puts her hopes in some vague truths. How can she fast with that ghost in her ear, she can function but forgot how to.

She drowsily stares at the screen.


- By Laila Ali Haid

The fasting story part 2

She was lonely, it was past midnight and some ruqya audio was keeping her sane. Random flashbacks challenged her to keep her fast clean; the kindness of handsome strangers adrift through London evenings.

She remembers her dark impatient face versus his bright and tempered one. He doesn't remember - though I relished the moment of sincere human contact.

The hateful weekend day awaits and promises to abuse, she lacks the filter to act accordingly.

- By Laila Ali Haid 

The fasting story part 1

She took a sip of the green drink and breathed in. It was twelve am ; three hours past iftar time, or the fast-breaking hour. She felt an unwelcome burning sensation in her throat, which did not distract her thoughts. Her mood - contemplative.

She thought of her sins and how she tried to keep them at the fray of her fast, failing to do this at times. She blinked as she tried to predict her future. Another failed year.

Her family ignored her for the most part; they used her former glory as bragging rights - and they buried her present self in back-garden soil.

- By Laila Ali Haid

A sin for dinner

Sin O'clock

its ticks

to countdown to when you can 'relax'

and get back to the usual 

A toothpaste smile for breakfast

mask on the piety with your 

hungry belly.

but actual insincerity,

when do we learn?

- By Laila Ali Haid