This thread will be the main hub for the general discussion about the Story Writing Contest. Each year, a separate thread can be created to house that year's entries.
So just to get discussion going, here's some suggested rules for the contest, based on the rules we've had previously:
Stories can be about any topic, theme or genre, but must be the entrant's own work and must be in English
Stories can be any length, but no longer than 5,000 words - this is a limit not a target
Stories should be submitted by Private Message to the Host - Yanal
Stories can be edited and formatted etc however the author chooses before submission, but the Host will not alter or reformat the story once it has been submitted
This year's deadline is 28 December 2012 - That is the last day on which entries shall be accepted.
Again, just suggestions, and if you have any please share them.
Someone said to the Prophet, "Pray to God against the idolaters and curse them." The Prophet replied, "I have been sent to show mercy and have not been sent to curse." (Muslim)
Re: Official Annual Story Writing Contest Discussion Thread
format_quote Originally Posted by Muezzin
I am happy because I have entered.
Bollywood version of Chucky.
I was looking at myself talking to myself and I realized this conversation...I was having with myself looking at myself was a conversation with myself that I needed to have with myself.
Re: Official Annual Story Writing Contest Discussion Thread
i didn't enter. thought you all should know. i just didn't have time to finish and didn't have ideas either. actually i have a few works-in-progress but nothin i could enter at the moment. and entering a half-finished story didn't seem like a good idea and might not have been allowed either. Also i didn't want to take votes from other (complete) stories that deserved the votes more. In-sha-Allah i hope i'll have something for the next contest. in the meantime, i can't wait to read all your stories and vote.
Re: Official Annual Story Writing Contest Discussion Thread
The stories?
Allah made everyone different thats what makes them special,so no matter what ppl say just remember you're SPECIAL!! "You are with the one you love"
Nem0
Re: Official Annual Story Writing Contest Discussion Thread
I'm stuck at the airport my flights delayed I so wish I could read the stories would have passed the time wht am I gng to do for 5 hrs :s
Allah made everyone different thats what makes them special,so no matter what ppl say just remember you're SPECIAL!! "You are with the one you love"
Nem0
Re: Official Annual Story Writing Contest Discussion Thread
NO STORIES. WHERE'S MA STORIES! *angry*
I was looking at myself talking to myself and I realized this conversation...I was having with myself looking at myself was a conversation with myself that I needed to have with myself.
Re: Official Annual Story Writing Contest Discussion Thread
i would like to make a suggestion, instead of having all the stories posted one after another...why don't we post the names of each story in the form of a link...for example
Re: Official Annual Story Writing Contest Discussion Thread
format_quote Originally Posted by Cabdullahi
i would like to make a suggestion, instead of having all the stories posted one after another...why don't we post the names of each story in the form of a link...for example...
...That way voters can choose a title which seems interesting to them..etc
The problem with that is you'd have to create a seperate thread for every single entry. Which is kind of pointless really.
I suppose we could have a hot link system though. So instead of scrolling down to view each story (and potentially ruining the endings), you can click the link and it takes you automatically to the appropriate entry. That is, if this forum even supports that kind of hot link?
How many people entered this year anyway? I've got myself. Cabdullahi, periwinkle and Muezzin all accounted for. What about the rest?
Someone said to the Prophet, "Pray to God against the idolaters and curse them." The Prophet replied, "I have been sent to show mercy and have not been sent to curse." (Muslim)
Re: Official Annual Story Writing Contest Discussion Thread
Here's my story. It's partial so i didn't enter in the contest. but you can read it while you wait for the contest stories. (Note: this is just a draft version and needs work.)
Dec. 12, 2012 Nazia stared at the letter, her hands shaking. Just looking at it made her want to cry. She knew what the letter contained and yet was unable to open it.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, she finally picked up the pink and green flowered bulky letter, tore it open, and pulled out the contents, her hands still shaking.
Inside, for the first time, were the names and contact details of her parents and siblings as well as a couple of family photos. She read the first letter which was from her mother:
Dear Nazia,
How long it’s been that I could write personally to you. I have been waiting for this day for the past ten years. Finally it has come. Your brothers and sisters and your loving parents wish to meet you, if you allow. We have been dying to see you and the past ten years have been the most torturing ever!
My dear beloved daughter, in the past we wished to send photographs but the state social services didn’t allow us. Now that you have grown up, we can finally send photos, call each other, and even meet. Included here are just two family photographs, a current one of your father, two brothers and two sisters and myself; and an old one from 10 years ago. We will surely exchange more photos but even more than that we are eager to meet.
We hope you will agree to contact us and meet very soon. Please call us at 987654321. The social worker has told us that you would have to initiate direct contact otherwise we would have called you.
Your loving mother
Faiza
Also in the envelope were letters from her brothers and sisters. She had received many such letters in the past but they had no names or contact details. They only consisted of titles such as your brother 1, brother 2, etc. There was also a letter from her father, Ashraf.
As Nazia read the letters, she couldn’t help the tears rolling down her cheeks. And the question she kept asking: Why?
Why had they done this to her? Why had they treated her so badly ten years ago that the state child abuse organization had to take her away from them and not allow any contact except the letter-box contact? Why?
She recalled the time before she had been taken away. She had faced constant neglect, yelling, and beatings, always being treated differently from her two younger brothers. And then one day when she had hit her brother after he took her doll, her mother had pushed her so hard that she had fallen and broken her hand.
Her painful screams followed and the whole house had erupted in screams as her brothers (then 6 and 3 years old) had also started screaming. Her mother quickly picked her up and took her to the hospital, leaving the boys with her grandmother. “She fell” her mother had told the doctor. But Nazia had blurted out in between sobs: “Mommy pushed me.” That had made the doctor suspicious and so Nazia had been subjected to a full body examination, which had revealed some beating marks and a burn mark on her upper arm. And then, she had been taken away from them.
Nazia recalled it all so well. She had been 7 years old. Afterward, she had spent time in a foster care and then been adopted by a Moroccan Muslim childless couple. And for the next ten years the only contact she had with her birth family was through letter-box. She had learned that her mother had had two more daughters, one nicknamed after her (Bushra Nazia, now 9) and the other Sameena (now 6). Her parents were strictly watched by the state and had been warned that if any neglect or abuse was detected, both girls would also be taken away. The state also forbid them from taking the girls out of the country. And so her parents had been careful and had taken care of the girls well.
Nazia reread the letters and once again asked the question: why? Why had her parents treated her so badly? Didn’t they love her? Had they hated her? Why did it have to be the fear of punishment that made them treat her sisters better? Why couldn’t they themselves have treated them in a humanitarian manner?
She looked at her brothers’ and sisters’ photos. Her brothers were now 16 and 13. Nazia recalled herself hating her brothers and being of jealous of them. They had been loved dearly by her parents and were never subjected to such treatment which had made Nazia despise them. Their behavior had caused enmity between the siblings. And when she came to live with her Arab foster parents, who had also adopted two boys, Nazia expected to see the same discrimination. She had expected that the difference of behavior was innate and would exist everywhere; that girls were treated badly everywhere and boys were preferred. But as she lived with her new foster family, she was surprised at the loving and equal treatment that her foster parents gave the three children. Never was she subjugated to her two foster brothers. Why did they treat all of them alike while her own parents didn’t?
That was a question she pondered over often. Why was it that her foster parents could love all the children alike and not her own parents? What had made her parents hate the daughters? She recalled her female cousins being also treated badly compared to her male cousins although not in such an abusive manner. Males were simply preferred to the females in their family, yet the discrimination pained and angered her. Why was her birth family like that? Why didn’t they see all children alike, regardless of gender?
Nazia put the letters and photographs in her drawer along with many other letters from her family. Then took a novel from the bookcase to read. She decided that she wouldn’t be contacting her mother or father. She might contact her brothers and sisters later but not her parents. They had subjected her to ten years of pain and even more and she had no wish to contact them. Yeah, right, they had endured pain in the past ten years due to the separation, she thought. If they loved her so much, then why had they treated her so badly? Those days and her separation and time in foster care had scarred her greatly.
***
“Nazia, did you read your parents’ letter?” Her foster mother asked, looking into the den where Nazia was seated, the science fiction novel in her lap. She was lost in the world of fiction where she often escaped. It helped her forget the painful memories, at least for a while.
“Nazia, did you hear me?” Her foster mother Doha said.
Looking up from the novel, it took her a while to get back to the present and realize what Doha was talking about. “You know I hate talking about them,” Nazia replied. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I know how you feel, but-”
“Look,” Nazia said, “when I’m ready, I will, okay.”
“Alright,” Doha said. Then she left.
And then, Nazia couldn’t help it, she started crying again. It was all so painful for her. If only someone would realize the pain she had endured. If only. Why did they have to keep reminding her? Why couldn’t they just leave her alone, let her forget? Didn’t they realize what an adopted child went through?
The book forgotten, Nazia went on crying in her lap.
“God, Nazia why are you crying like a baby?” her younger foster brother, Saif said, coming into the room. Nazia looked up and had the urge to punch him, but refrained from doing so. He wasn’t at fault even if what he said upset her even more.
“Somethings you will never understand,” she said instead.
“It’s that letter you got from your parents, isn’t it,” the 15 year old said. Without waiting for an answer, he added, “you know you’re not the only one who’s adopted.”
“I know, but it’s not like your case,” Nazia replied. Her tears now coming to a halt. She loved her kid foster brothers. They were one family and she was happy they were adopted too. It made her feel she wasn’t different or out of place; that they were all the same, even if their backgrounds were different. Nazia bent down and picked up the book that had fallen sometime while she was crying. “Your parents never did to you what mine did.”
“Oh yeah, no one likes being abandoned by their parents,” Saif said. “At least you weren’t thrown away like I was.”
“Your mother had no choice,” Nazia said. Saif’s mother had given birth illegitimately while being a teenager and had given the child up for adoption so no one would know about the illegitimate baby. While her other foster brother, 14 year old Hasan, had been forsaken by his westernized parents after divorce and had been given up for adoption. Both kids still had direct contact with their parents but Nazia’s case was entirely different. It was a painful one.
“That’s how you see it,” Saif said. “I see it as being unloved and it hurts more than you can imagine. Any parent that parts with their child does so because they don’t love them enough.”
“But your letters make you happy while the ones I receive only remind me of the pain,” Nazia said.
Saif shrugged. “Just let go of the past, Nazia.” Then he walked out the door.
“If it were that easy,” Nazia said.
***
The rest of the week, Nazia carried a load on her head. She was undecided whether to get into direct contact with her birth family or not. A social worker would come to talk to her at the end of the week but Nazia didn’t feel ready for anything. The whole issue was affecting her studies. And she needed to concentrate on that if she wanted to go to college. She wanted to get a scholarship so she wouldn’t depend on anyone for her tuition. She hated depending on anyone. All these issues kept her mind full and she walked around in a state of daze.
“Nazia just get it over with,” Hasan said while they sat at dinner one evening.
“What?” Nazia said.
“You look like you’re always thinking, like your mind is someplace else.” Hasan said.
“Yup,” Saif added. “You walk like a robot, like you’re on auto-pilot or something. And it’s scary.”
“I do not,” Nazia said. She knew an argument was about to start but she felt it might divert attention from her.
“You know, Nazia,” her foster father said, “I’m no one to tell you what to do in this matter but it might be a good idea to contact them, you know. Just ask them in person the questions in your head, so you can get it over with, move on.”
“I really don’t want to,” Nazia said. “It would be too painful. I don’t think –“
“Hear me out,” her foster father, Abu Fadl interrupted her. “Why not give them a call, have a talk, and then if you don’t want further contact, no one will force you to and your mind will be clear too. At least you won’t be in a state of indecision.”
“Give it a try,” Doha said. “The final decision is up to you, but we think you’re only harming yourself. This state of mind is not good.”
Nazia thought it over. “I guess you are right.” And she made up her mind to call them that same eveining. To ask just why they had done it. To get the answers to questions that had been in her mind the past ten years.
***
After dinner, Nazia went to the den and picked up the phone. Dialing her parent’s phone number, she waited for it to be picked up. It had been 5 days since she had received the letter.
“It’s Nazia,” she said into the phone when it was picked up.
“Nazia!!!” A woman squealed into the phone, her voice full of excitement. “My darling. How long I have waited to hear your voice.” Nazia realized it was her mother.
“Right,” Nazia replied, without feeling the least bit of emotion, only remorse.
“You don’t seem happy to talk to me.”
“Why would I be?” Nazia said.
“Huh?”
“Why did you do it?” Nazia said.
“Do what?” Her mother asked.
“What do you mean do what? You know well enough what I’m talking about.” She couldn’t help her voice from being raised and was glad she had closed the door behind her. She didn’t want anyone else to hear her. Lowering her voice, she went on, “Why did you abuse me so much that the state had to take me away from you?”
“Look Nazia that is not what I want to talk about. I want to celebrate, get-together. Not talk about the past.”
“But I do,” Nazia said. “I need answers. What you did put me through so much pain. And I want to kknow why you did it. Didn’t you love me?”
“Of course I loved you,” her mother said.
“Then why?”
There was a long silence, and Nazia wondered if her mother had left the phone. Then finally her mother said, “I don’t know.”
“How could you not know?” Nazia couldn’t help asking, trying hard to keep her voice low. She was near tears. “How could you hit your daughter, burn her hand, yell at her, treat her differently from your sons, suppress her and put so much fear in her with your treatment, push her and break her hand, and not know why you are doing it?! Didn’t you ever feel how you were affecting her? Didn’t you ever wonder how she might feel?”
Her mother sighed, “look Nazia, it is all so difficult.” She finally said. “We went through a lot because of all that.”
“Tell me about it,” Nazia said bluntly.
“After you were taken away and then Bushra was born we contemplated a lot. We thought about all that had happened and that it was all wrong. We had lost a precious child because of our carelessness.”
“Carelessness?” Nazia said. “You call all that carelessness?”
“It was, on our part. We followed a culture of girl-hating and we lost something so precious to us. When you were taken away, we received the worst punishment that we could have imagined. And we realized how precious you had been to us and how much we wanted to turn back time and undo what had happened but it was not possible. I guess it was all a lesson for us.
“When bushra was born,” her mother went one, “we received threats that she would be taken away too if we were not careful, but we didn’t love and care for her because of that. We did so because we saw her as a replacement of you. Nazia, no mother wants her child to be taken from her. You don’t know how much we loved you and how much we wish we could undo things so that none of that had taken place. Yes, it’s true that we had done things that were wrong but we were ignorant, blindly following a culture without thinking and we suffered because of it too. Please, Nazia, can you forgive us?” Her mother said and Nazia realized that she was sobbing.
And then she learned that the whole time had been an ordeal for them as well. But could she forgive them? Their actions had put her through so much pain, could so forgive them and forget it all so suddenly? She didn’t know. She didn’t think she was ready to take that step yet. She still had questions unanswered and she needed answers. And she needed them now.
“But why, if you loved me and couldn’t bear to part with me, why did you do what you did.”
“I wish I knew the answer, Nazia.” Her mother said. “Like I said already, it was all a culture. Girls were loved less, boys were preferred, girls were treated badly, it was what we learned in this culture and I admit it is one awful culture. But while we were living it, we didn’t know the right from the wrong. We just followed a culture. Just went with the flow. We were so used to it that we were blind to see how wrong it was and what its effects were on the children. We know we shouldn’t have been so blind but we just couldn’t see. Please at least try to understand.”
“I’ll think about it,” Nazia said.
“Can you meet us at least? Please?” Her mother begged.
“I’ll think about that too,” Nazia said. There was a huge lump in her throat and she felt that there was a huge barrier of pain that was too difficult for her to cross. Could she cross it? Could she forget everything that had happened and forgive her parents? She didn’t know just yet.
“Okay, I understand if you don’t want to. But can you at least talk to your father and sibs? They’re dying to hear your voice.”
“I guess,” Nazia said.
Her father took the phone. “Nazia look I am sorry. I don’t know how to make it up to you.” He said.
“There was a time when we were angry – with ourselves, with you, with the state, with fate, but we’re glad now for what happened, it opened our eyes. And I’m happy the time has finally come when we can talk and maybe meet.”
“Uhhuh,” was all Nazia could say. She couldn’t bring any love or emotion into her voice. She just wasn’t ready to forgive her parents yet. Whatever had happened had been their fault. She felt they deserved all the pain they got. Yet, she realized that the whole time was an ordeal for them too. But still she didn’t feel any love or sympathy for them, even if a part of her wanted to forget about everything and just forgive them, to start a new chapter in her life.
“Okay, well I hope you’ll think about meeting us.” Then he gave the phone to her brothers and sisters.
Nazia spoke to them more cheerfully.
“Can we meet, please please?”, her younger brother now 13 said. “Please?” Nazia wondered if her parents were edghing him to say that but he seemed so eager and sincere that Nazia couldn’t say no. Besides she was dying to meet her real brothers and sisters. And finally, she said, “yeah I guess that would be alright. I’ll let you know when.” And then she briefly spoke to her other brother and sisters before hanging up.
Over the next few days it was decided that they would meet at the park the next weekend. Her foster family would accompany her and a counselor would come along to support her. If that went well, she’d continue to meet her birth family. If not, at least she hoped to continue meeting her siblings if not her parents. She was unsure whether she could forgive her parents or not.
***
To be continued
What will happen in the meeting? How will it go? Will Nazia forgive her parents or not? Find out in part 2.
Re: Official Annual Story Writing Contest Discussion Thread
Can the Akhi still send his story??
Allah made everyone different thats what makes them special,so no matter what ppl say just remember you're SPECIAL!! "You are with the one you love"
Nem0
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