The indelible tale of Revenge and Remorse, Delusion and Deception, Ataraxy and Agony, Belief and Bully, Endearment and Enmity, Silence and Sorrow, Mistakes and Memories...
The story scintillates limelight on two entirely different worlds. The dazzli...
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The enlivening rays of the sun were exquisitely illuminating the damp city of Houston. After four days of continous rainstorm, the clouds were finally tired of bursting out their anger on the city, allowing the sun to awaken the citizens and relish the zeal of liveliness once again.
However, under the roof of a modern bungalow, the giant bedroom residing on its top floor was still asleep when the door clicked open and in walked a slim figure with a glass in her hand. However, she immediately halted in her steps as a perfect wave of hush and stillness met her inside.
The room was minimally lit by the sunrays entering through the curtains and the only sound to be heard was of the mellow air freshener moistening around. The lady's temple frowned at the unusual scene.
Crossing the spacious room, she reached at the side of the bed where her son was still fast asleep with the quilt pulled all over his body, only sparing his right forearm on which his head was resting and his hair unconcealed. His phiz was nestled in his elbow; manifesting someone was trying to hide from sunlight. Zaima sighed whilst shaking her head in disappointment.
This boy!
"Iyaad?" No response.
Zaima's orbs glanced at the wall clock briefly before she placed the glass on the nightstand and leaning down, mildly shook his shoulder to drag him out of his sleepy zone, which turned out nothing but another lame attempt.
"Iyaad, wake up sleepy boy! Don't you have university today?"
He whined slightly and shifted on his right, whilst drawing the quilt some more which hid his remaining hair as well. His mood seemed nowhere even close to bid goodbye to his precious sleep.
After making a couple more attempts at waking her son and receiving the same bratty attitude in return, the last recourse left for her was to yank out the pillow from under his head; which she did with such violent force that finally cracked his dreaming state.
With a light 'Ouch', he only removed the quilt from infront of his eyes enough to check on the intruder and on spotting the blurred form of his mother towering over his head, his eyes squinted to few degrees.
"Mummy? Why are you up so early today?" He asked in the same blurred tone, all ready to zone out again. Zaima sighed whilst placing the pillow back on the bed and folding her arms.
"Well I don't think anytime after eight should be considered early."
There was a hint of strictness in her tone as she watched him giving her a puzzled look.
