Cinderella

By Afnan Imran

“What are your plans for tonight, Agent 307?” The words came out in a shrill hiss from the mouth of an ugly hag with green skin and black rotting teeth that were visible through her open mouth. Her black eyes shone with venom as she stared at the salt-and-pepper-haired woman in front of her.

“I have forbidden Cinderella to attend the ball, Commander.” The middle-aged woman said as she smoothed a hand over her ball gown.

“You fool! How do you intend to stage a full-scale takeover on Imperia’s behalf with such a hare-brained scheme?” the hag screeched. “Seven years! Seven years you have spent on this planet and this is what you come up with?”

“Commander, we agreed at the last meeting that a bid of takeover will be signed by the Prince. The minor agents, posing as my daughters, will not be able to catch him unless Cinderella vanishes from the picture. Her beauty will surely captivate him.”

“You will be hanged if the human king learns of this deception before your plan is underway! I shall have to step in!” the hag said with irritation as her long, crooked nails drummed an impatient tattoo against the windowpane. “Go to the ball. If you see Cinderella, make sure her time with the prince is not disturbed.”

xxxx

Watching the carriage depart with Agent 307 and the minor agents, the hag pulled out her communicator and contacted her master.

A gruesome face appeared on the screen, the crooked nose and the sickening, green face were worsened by the evil grin etched on it.

“Ah, Commander. What news do you bring me ?” he asked ion a thick, nasal voice.

“Your Majesty, the trap will be set tonight, but I need a few supplies fir-” she began.

“Tonight!!” the King of Imperia bit out, his face twisting in rage. “This takeover should have already taken place, you imbecile!”

“Master, please! Humans have proven difficult. Agent 307 has lived in disguise on this planet for years, with that man who died and his daughter. One more night should hardly matter.” pleaded the hag.

“Very well. What do you need?”

“I shall require a mind control device, shaped like a pair of glass slippers of size six, and a computerized carriage, fitted with a bomb.” she listed.

“Your items will be teleported in moments. Be sure that your plan finally succeeds. You have until tomorrow.” The screen went blank with an ominous threat.

The hag grinned; she would succeed. Cinderella would soon serve her purpose.

xxxx

“Wake up, dear girl.”

A faint whisper roused Cinderella from slumber. She found herself looking into black, expressionless eyes, framed in an ugly green face. Her own deep-blue yes, swollen with tears widened. She brushed her sunlight-colored hair off her brow, not believing her eyes.

“Wh-who are you?” she whispered, goosebumps raising on her skin.

“Do not be afraid, child. I mean no harm.” The hag said in a soft voice. “I have come to help you. You would like to go to the ball, wouldn’t you?”

xxxx

Dressed in an ice-blue gown, with a silver tiara, a silver necklace, and glass slippers, a grateful Cinderella waved goodbye to the old hag from the window of the beautifully crafted, white, pumpkin-shaped carriage. It rolled gracefully down the road, preceded by six white horses.

xxxx

For Cinderella, time flew by. The evening was wonderful, spent dancing with the Prince. She never wanted this night to end. It was so much better than her stepmother’s slavery.

Love, she thought. It is such a beautiful feeling. She gazed into the Prince’s golden-brown eyes as he smiled down at her.

Suddenly, the clock struck midnight. Against her will, her body wrenched itself away from the Prince. Her feet carried her out of the palace and onto the steps, where she mechanically took off one glass slipper and left it on the steps.

She stumbled into the carriage, as if by force. The door was barely shut behind her before it started moving. It travelled far from the palace until it was only a smudge in the background.

With a horrendous noise, the carriage exploded into a debris of rubble, destroying its occupant along with it.

xxxx

Prince Edward ran after the beauty who had bewitched him all night long. He was too late! She had left! Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a sparkling slipper on the steps.

Something to identify the beauty with! He picked it up and cradled it like a precious gift.

“Prince,” he heard a gravelly voice behind him.

He turned around to see an old hag with green skin grinning wickedly at him.

“Sign these papers, will you?”

Edward stared transfixed and horrified as his hand reached out for the proffered pen, as if by a will of its own, and signed his name on the paper.

“Imperians will now rule the earth!” the hag cackled. “You are of no use anymore. Go to the highest tower ion the palace, dear Prince, and jump to your death with that slipper in your hand.”

Failing to clear his mind of the haze that had settled over, Edward found himself obeying.

“Oh, and Prince, take your father with you. Push him first, but you must not warn him of your intentions.

xxxx

The hag remained below, watching two screaming and flailing bodies plummet to their death. She was soon joined by her under-agents who praised her vindictiveness.

She pulled out her communicator and sent a homing signal to her king. Her hair-raising cackle split the night air as the first space shuttle was sighted. A technological revolution was to come to earth.

Anastasia

By Areeba Jibril

I watched as Cinderella scrubbed the stone floors at the end of the corridor. She was contentedly humming a song which bothered me. I stomped through the hallway in my muddy boots, kicking her bucket as I passed by it. She didn’t bother reprimanding me; she was too used to my behavior. That only served to add to my anger.

I stomped up the winding staircase and into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. I noticed the ball gown from the previous night lying on my bed and I picked it up and tried to rip it apart. The cloth tore a bit, but not enough to satisfy my anger so I threw the gown outside the window.

I regretted my actions as soon I realized what I had done, but there was nothing I could do now. The dress was surely ruined. I collapsed onto my bed sobbing.

Why hadn’t the Prince liked me? I asked myself, desperately searching within for an answer.

The evening had started out so well, even Mother had only been able to find few faults with my appearance.

Once we arrived at the castle, I danced with three gentlemen one after the other. For once none of them seemed to be old enough to be my grandfather.

Then, somehow it all began to go wrong. I noticed the society matrons’ gazes on me, and I smiled at them politely before following my instincts to run away. I looked back at them as soon I as was outside of their line of sight and saw them whispering to each other. Uncertainty flooded through my veins as I wondered what horrible things they were saying about me.

I moved towards the table set up with drinks, hoping a glass of punch would be able to wash away my insecurities.

As I picked up the ladle to pour my mother’s hand knocked it away from me.

“Really what are you thinking Anastasia?” Mother asked. “You know a lady cannot pour her own drink, have I taught you nothing?”

She took me by the hand, and led me to a corner of the room. Once she was sure we were out of hearing distance she began scolding me.

“Stop slouching, act like a lady for heaven’s sake Anastasia! Fix the expression on your face; you’re at a ball not headed towards the gallows!” I tried to do as she asked. “No, don’t smile so wide, you’re not a court jester. Honestly, Anastasia. You do try my patience so. Now, circulate. And, act like your enjoying yourself. Please.”

I immediately scurried away from her, relieved to have been dismissed. I turned to look back at her for a minute and somehow managed to walk into someone.

“I’m so- sorry,” I apologized, my eyes wide. I almost knocked over the Prince! Oh, Mother was going to be furious.

“Yes, well it’s all right. In the future though you may want to face the direction in which you’re headed,” he said.

I nodded numbly.

He scrutinized my face. “I don’t think we have danced yet. Shall we?” He offered me his arm and I took it, grateful to have this chance.

“Well, I as I’m sure you know, am Prince Charming. May I be so bold as to enquire your name?”

“Oh, it’s Anastasia Fullbright,” I answered hesitantly.

“Thank you for the pleasure of this dance, Miss Fullbright.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine.”

“It’s needless debating which one of us is more pleased; I believe my father’s pleasure exceeds anyone else’s.” He gestured towards the King, who did indeed have a smile on his face.

“I’m afraid his joy would still only come second to my mother’s.”

“Would it now? Maybe you are right. Tell me, Miss Fullbright-” The Prince paused abruptly in the middle of his sentence.

“Yes?” I prompted him.

“Ah, yes,” he continued with his question, and as we turned in a circle, I was able to discover the reason behind his pause.

She wore a pale blue dress that flowed beautifully to the ground reminding an observer of flowing water. Her eyes were a color similar to the dress, and her blonde hair was beautifully tied above her head. The most spectacular aspect of her appearance however was her footwear. Her shoes appeared to be made of glass. It wasn’t surprising that she had caught the Prince’s attention, most eyes in the room were on her.

The Prince continued to dance with me in relative silence, until the last note of the song was played. He bowed to me, and then went to ask the other girl for a dance. They stayed on the dance floor for most of the night, until the clock struck midnight and she mysteriously ran away, leaving behind only a glass slipper.

As we drove home in our carriage, Mother expressed her rage on both Drizella and I. She had expected better from us, me especially. She was especially furious for me letting the Prince slip through my fingers as she believed, like I had, that him asking me to dance meant something. We were both wrong.

Over a day has passed since the ball, yet she still refuses to speak to me. By being unable to find a rich husband, I have somehow led the family to financial ruin. It is all my fault, as always.

My attention is suddenly caught by the sound of horses trotting close to our home. I rush to the window to find a Royal Carriage stopping outside of the manor. A great big smile finds its way onto my face. Maybe the prince did like me, maybe I still have a chance, I think. I quickly check my appearance for any imperfections and then run down the stairs. Maybe I will have a happily ever after all.

Cinderella

By Junaina Junaid

She dwells alone in the darkness, encircled by an air of melancholy and isolation. In her dingy cell, a single, flickering light bulb dangles from side to side imitation the movements of a pendulum. Her curious blue eyes follow the movements of the hanging light bulb. Eyes darting from left to right, right to left. She lies, curled up on the plain white sheets, counting each swing in the rhythmic pattern of the pendulum. Each swing, with each tick of the clock. She waits..

The rusted door creaks open and in walk two repulsive looking women, warts on their faces and all. She thinks to herself that they resemble the wicked witches she had heard of in stories as a child. They bring in a tray carrying a foul smelling concoction of sorts. She notices the two thick white pills lying innocently in the corner of the tray. No! She will not take the pills. These ‘evil’ pills make her hallucinate. Thus, as the two women strut out of the dingy cell, giving her threatening glares, she takes the two pills and hides them in the minuscule hole she has found in the floor. There lie the rest of her daily pills as well..

Moments. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. She still lies on her bed, tracing imaginary patterns into the plain white walls. A sudden movement along the corner of the floor causes her eyes to dart there. She catches the glimpse of a long and hairy, gray tail disappear under the bed. She kneels down to peek under the bed and hears a distant, shrill voice chant her name.

“Cinderelly! Oh Cinderelly..”

She giggles at the fact that the voice calls her ‘Cinderelly’, rather than her real name, Cinderella. She asks, faking her most aggressive voice.

“Who’s there?”

“Cinderelly, it’s me! I has been waiting for you. I knows you get lonely in here. Me gets lonely too..”

She watches the huge gray rat sneak out from under the bed and climb up her outstretched arm. She giggles once more and pets the gruesome rat that sits on her arm.

“Cinderelly, you’re so beautiful. Your long blonde hair and your sad blue eyes.. I can make you happy Cinderelly.”

She smiles as she feels the rat kiss her on her arm.

The door creaks open once again. She hides her new friend under the bed. In walks an amiable looking lady, an old lady with soft eyes and an even softer expression. She smiles at Cinderella.

“How are you doing my child?”

Cinderella starts to sob. She tells her that she doesn’t want to be alone. She wants to be loved. The kind lady smiles and tells her that she will take her to a good man. A kind man, who will help her. The lady grabs a hairbrush and starts to untangle the wild mess of Cinderella’s long blonde hair. She suddenly starts to see sparkles emanate from the lady’s hands. As she swipes her magical arms around, the whole room illuminates by red and blue stars. Silver streaks dance across the room, and as she spins round and round with her arms outstretched, she see’s her white rags transform into an elegant blue dress. She dances her way to where ‘he’ sits.

She enters and is seated on a chair on the other side of a desk as she waits for the handsome, young man, who as promised, will take all her worries away. The door opens and in walks the psychiatrist to start therapy with dear Cinderella..

He shows her compassion. She knows she can trust him.. Moments. Seconds. Minutes. The clock strikes 12:00 pm. It’s over. She has to go back to her gloomy cell. But no! she wants to stay with this kind man. Who will love her and care for her. No. She will not leave. She grabs him. Holds onto him with dear life.. The two ugly nurses return and each grab an arm harshly, causing streaks of pain up her arm. The nurse notices a piece of flesh nibbled off her right arm, and pulls away from the doctor. As they attempt to carry her back to her ward, she yells and she cries. She kicks around aggressively causing one translucent, hospital slipper to fall off her small left foot, and lie in the doctor’s office.

As she is carried away her screams and cries echo in the hallways, causing people beyond the walls of confinement to imagine only the most gruesome and horrific events taking place within..

Hansel And Gretel

By Zoha Jabbar

The wood-cutter's wife awoke with a start, at the sound of a slammed door. With a whispered prayer, she lit a candle and slowly unbolted the bedroom door. Before stepping out, she cast a glance at the empty bed. She wished her husband would return from his travels soon, she couldn't stand to be alone with those children.

She treaded softly, panic mounting with each step. The candle cast its light upon her deepest fear: scarlet footprints leading all the way from the front door to the room shared by the two children. With shaking hands, she placed the candle on a table, and soaked a rag. With it, she scrubbed away the vivid stains of the children's monstrous deed.

She was making her way back to the safety of her bedroom when Hansel stepped out onto the landing. At first glance, he was an innocent young boy, in his blue pyjamas and bedroom slippers. Everything about him emphasised his naivete, everything but his eyes. Eyes which had seem things no child should ever see.

Hansel's step-mother repressed a shudder, and forced her lips to form a smile. But her fear was too conspicuous. He did not smile back, instead gave her a look that haunted her. Abandoning the charade, she ran back to her room as fast as her feet would allow and bolted the door behind herself.

The wood-cutter returned in the morning, and saw his children awaiting his arrival. His pulse quickened. He smiled and hugged them, but he, too, was unable to keep the fear out of his eyes. Gretel shot Hansel a meaningful look, and he covertly nodded.

That night, the children pressed their ears to their parents' bedroom door to listen in on the conversation that they knew involved them. They could clearly make out their father's voice, "I know, I believe you. And I also know who it was they attacked. Fritz Anderung's little boy was found dead in the gutter, his body torn to shreds. They all think it was some kind of an animal that did it, but I know it was them."
Their step-mother's reply was much softer, the children strained to hear it, "...Fourth one this month... People will start to suspect..."
The wood-cutter spoke again, "No, I have a plan." His voice dropped considerably, "We'll abandon them so far into the forest, they won't be able to find their way back and will just starve to death."

Outside the door, Gretel's eyes widened, and she slipped her small hand into Hansel's equally small one. Quietly, Hansel led his sister back to their room, holding her close. Once they were inside, he confidently said, "Don't worry, I have a plan as well, and mine's much better than theirs."

The next day, when their father proposed a walk into the forest, the children played along. They said goodbye to their step-mother and set out. Once they had walked a good long way in, the wood-cutter's tired old body began to slow down, unable to keep up with the youthful steps of the siblings. At one point, their father doubled over with exhaustion, and paused to catch his breath. Suddenly, Hansel shouted, "Now!"

The last thing the wood-cutter saw was his children's faces transforming into those of demonic creatures. Razor-sharp teeth pierced his body, ripping him apart. His agonised screams heard by nobody but the trees, until he succumbed to eternal darkness.

The wood-cutter's wife waited for her husband's return. Days turned into months, and the village was once again terrorised by wild 'animal attacks'. She knew the children would would come for her eventually, but she decided that she wouldn't give them the chance. If she had to die, she would do it on her own terms.

Her body was discovered by a neighbour who came to investigate the source of that disturbing stench permeating the area. The strangely sweet smell of decaying flesh. Rumors soon surfaced of cannibals living in the forest, in a house made of bones. But that's all they ever were, rumors, for nobody ever survived to confirm them.

Jack And The Beanstalk

By Asma Afzal

Jack crouches in the oven and looks through a tiny crack at the action going on in the kitchen. It is a routine he is accustomed to, one he has observed enough in the past few weeks to know by heart. His heart beats fast and his palms are sweaty. Beads of sweat make their way down his forehead. He is ready.

He was seven years old and his mother was tucking him in at night. He can, even today, recall the safety he felt, and the contentment in his family of two. It was then that she first told him the story of his father. She sat by his bedside, her face only illuminated by the soft, muted light of the candle. She told him the story of a murder, a murder performed in cold blood. The murder of her husband, his father, at the hands of a giant from another world. A world she had once belonged to, but was exiled from. She talked in low, bitter tones; passing on the hatred she had nursed for so long on to the unsuspecting heart of an innocent seven year old.

It is one of the most vivid memories he possesses.

"Fee fi fo fum! I smell the blood of an English man!

Be he alive or be he dead, I'll grind his bones to make my bread!" , exclaims a loud, terrible voice.

Jack rolls his eyes. He is used to this by now. The giant is mentally retarded. The once feared Stephan Hayden has lost the proper functioning of his brain to some terrible disease.

Jack wonders why that does not affect him. How far gone am I, he thinks to himself, that the suffering this man has already gone through is not enough to quench my blood lust?

As he crouches there in that position, he wonders if his mother is to blame for all of it. Would he be there had she not convinced him that this world existed? Would he be there had his heart not been made ice cold with hatred at the tender age of 7?

It was his eighteenth birthday as he walked to the market with the cow. It was their last valuable possession, and times had been difficult. It was along that road that he met a man, a man who promised him magic seeds in exchange for the cow. Jack knew, instinctively, that these were the seeds which would lead him to his destiny. He made the exchange. That was the beginning.

"There now, there!", the wife says reassuringly. "There's no one there. Hush, and eat your food." She sets a plate in front of the giant.

As Jack watches this exchange, he takes a minute to reflect on his accomplishments. The first time he came here, his offence was simple; thievery. He stole money from the house's safe. It wasn't much, but there had been something satisfying in taking away his enemy's possessions from right under his nose.

The second one, the one he perhaps relished the most, was the betrayal he dealt the giant's daughter. He acted like a trusting friend, and earned her confidence. Despite his small size, despite the fact that he was obviously not from her world, she treated him like an equal, a friend. And now he was about to use all of that against her.

It wasn't always easy, he thinks to himself now, to listen to the ramblings of sixteen year old girl. It required patience, but I have succeeded, haven't I?

They were in her room. She was crying as she told him about her father's disease. She talked about how hard it was to take care of him; the medicines, the injections and the amount of patience needed for it. She detailed how painful it was, while Jack made mental notes; separating the information that might come in handy from that which was useless. It was during one of those sessions that Jack discovered how he would perform his final act; the step to make his enemy meet his end.

Ironic, Jack reflects clinically. That it is his daughter who shows me how to end him; his own flesh and blood who gives me enough information on how I can end her own father's life. I would never have understood it without her.

For it has to be done, Jack acknowledges. There is nothing else, no other deed he can commit, which will satisfy the raging beast within him. The giant's family must suffer like he and his mother suffered. A life for a life.

Yes, there is no other way, he tells himself.

It is time. As the wife exits the kitchen, Jack leaves the safety of the oven to make his move. He climbs up the side, and hurries to the bottle of medicine sitting on the counter, next to the teacup. He is not worried about the giant seeing him; he knows it will not happen. The giant has problems of his own.

His heart beats fast and his body is hyped with the adrenaline that pumps through his veins as he adds the powdered medicine to the cup. The wife will not check, she never does when she adds the tea for her husband. Stupid, Jack thinks smugly, remorselessly. Careless.

It is so simple. So painfully simple; over dosage. If given additional medicine to his already high dosage, the giant will fall into a deep a deep and endless slumber. One from which it is impossible to return.

Jack doesn't leave yet. He continues to watch, waiting in the safety of the oven. He will watch till the absolute end. He will experience the satisfaction, the sense of victory that he has so dearly longed for. He has finally put an end to the man who took his father's life.

Goldilocks And The Three Bears

By Ilsa Rashid

Jason or jay –as he liked to be known as--was Goldilocks’ mentor, boss, inspiration and father. Goldie had his sharp mind, his skin colour and blue eyes. She had her mother’s hair though; long, thick and golden. The task that she was assigned was the challenge Andrew and Joe had failed. However, her father’s faith in her convinced her to accept the challenge.

The airport was nearing and she knew she’d be airborne soon. She felt a pang in her gut but she repeated to herself the reason why she was here: to bring justice and peace to the souls of Andy and Joe.

The airhostess woke her up when lunch arrived. Goldie pushed the tray; traveling always made her sick, but she sensed it might be the fact that she’d be in remote Alaska in less than four hours.

About 2000 miles away, three figures crept out of the house that awaited Goldie.

Goldilocks felt her eyelashes might freeze. Her Ray Ban shades didn’t help much. Ten minutes later, she was shifted to a snow mobile. Soon, a wooden cottage, like ones Goldie read about in fairytales, was in view. “This is it,” Goldie said to herself, gripping the cold revolver in her pocket.

She felt like the wind might knock her off her feet. Placing each step firmly, Goldie made her way to the door and knocked loudly.

Silence.

She shrugged and, with mastered skill, jammed a kick and flung the door open. With feline agility she positioned her gun.

“Our visitor has arrived,” Jim said, with a sly smile across his face. “Bunch o’ asses, them all.”

The three laughed with evident mockery. They slunk into their couches and watched the LCD screen in the comfort of their hi-tech igloo half a mile away from Goldilocks.

Goldilocks made her way around the house; her practiced eyes darting for any movement. The house was empty but not abandoned; she discovered three bowls full of porridge on the table, unmade beds and maps of the Alaska on walls. Although the porridge was tempting, she followed her instincts and relied on the bag of crisps she carried. Goldilocks turned the rooms around. She tapped on the floors and looked behind every map and frame. After hours of investigation, she perched on the edge of a table and rested her elbow on a carved eagle beside her. With what seemed like magic, the eagle twisted under her arm and the Persian rug before her rose about two inches.

Goldie’s eyes widened in disbelief.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Eddie swore under his breath.

The trio stepped into the state-of-the-art snow mobile, very cleverly smuggled from France.

“This dress itches,” whined Carl.

“Growl,” was Jim’s reply.

“You suck at sarcasm. Jim.”

“Shut up and drive,” were the final words.

It was dark. It smelt of blood, oil and burnt wood. The walls were slimy and wet. Goldie felt like a child again, who saw monsters in the room at night. However, Goldie was sure she was not alone. Goldie gingerly moved forward and thrust her hand towards a vague outline she could observe.

The snow mobile halted right outside the door.

It felt damp and sticky; and rough in some areas. Like a bolt of lightning, the revelation came to Goldie—along with a wave of nausea—and she withdrew her hand in disgust.

Light. Blinding light; no it wasn’t the heavens calling. They were flashlights directed right at her face. As her vision adjusted, goldilocks saw the last image she had imagined she’d ever witness. Three hungry polar bears stood on all fours. It took a long moment before she realized it was a disguise.

“Like our costume? Itchy, but useful,” ‘growled’ the largest bear, who then took off his mask to reveal a face that looked better with the mask on. The flashlight swayed to the right and exposed the identities of the hanging corpses. Andy and Joe. And soon, she knew, she’d be joining them.

She had no where to run. It was at this odd instant that she remembered some verses she had learnt as a trainee:

Be a fighter,

die, but suffer,

don’t let chains bind you,

and if the enemy finds you,

make your loss a gain,

so that your name,

may be written in bold and gold,

so just hold your head up high,

today, you may die,

but your sacrifice shall survive.

Goldilocks smiled to herself and, with utmost caution, slid her hand into her pocket and speed dialed her father.

“Don’t I get a last wish?” Goldilocks played her card.

“Speak,” was the reply.

‘Tell me about this place. Who are you? And who do you work for?”

The largest ‘bear’ considered it.

“We work for Jake Enwall. Been lookin’ for him since long, haven’t ya? This place is studded with ‘em gems. Rubies, Emeralds, Amethysts; you name it. Been years here, no one but your friends discovered this place. Poor Andy didn’t even make it inside; the porridge did the job and finished him within seconds.”

Goldilocks swore out loud.

“Nice choice for a last word,” Carl smiled.

Jason knew what the gunshot meant. He disconnected the call and shut his eyes.

“Today, you may die

But your memory shall survive,” he repeated to himself.

Flashback

By Sana Noor

Ahmed heard his mom's words echo from the morning. She had had a mug of coffee in her hand and had a dead serious look on her face. She had kept the principal's letter in front of her.

"How long has this been going on, Ahmed?" She had asked and he had found no words to explain his position. "You do realise this is your final year, right?" They never gave you a chance to forget that. Everything had come down to this final year..

She placed the mug on the table, making sure there was a coaster under it. He stared at the mug long and hard.

"You don't understand. You wouldn't understand." He finally said and stood up to leave for school.

"What are you gonna do with yourself, Ahmed?"

He did not need this right now. Had not wanted it in the morning from his mother and surely did not need it now from Mr. Rana.

Little Red Riding Hood

By Khurram Ali

My name is Sofia Neveu, and at the age of seven, I became the reason for the death of my parents. Deprived of a childhood everyone deserves, I was brought to Belzec; a concentration camp. Unlike any other throughout the Nazi Germany, it was indeed the first extermination camp created for implementing Operation Reinhard. I guess, one can call it bad luck because the bivouacs were just set up a week before 18th October, 1941 - the longest unforgettable day of my life, the day my parents were silenced.

One could survive internment, if he or she was in some manner resourceful to the Third Reich; mostly in the form of forced labor or even sometimes in the guise of entertainment for the soldiers and the guards. Too young and feeble, I was proclaimed by the doctors to be ill-equipped. However unsurprisingly, they did not think it was worthy enough to protect us - children, the future of this nation from such cruelties and horrors of life itself.

I was cast out to a small rustic wooden lodge dominated mostly by old and vulnerable people; not to mention the mice which infested the place. Malnutrition was prominent, food was scarce, we were on each others throat; fighting for every driblet of water. Forbidden to leave the cabin, enclosed by four walls with no windows; only few rays of sunlight could stream through the crevices between the planks of wood. Leaving us all craving for the sun; "I want to break free", were the words on everyone's mind except for me and the pessimists who thought otherwise, we were just waiting to die, vanish into thin air and nobody would notice; life became useless and hopeless.

All I ever wanted was to lead a normal life; have well prepared meals, hang out with friends, host occasional tea parties with them and play with my doll house. How did I ever end up here?

Tension was building throughout Europe; hatred against the Jews was reaching its maxima, everyone was left terrorized by the unfolding events. My life on the other hand remained to a large extent unaffected. My father was the Lieutenant General of the Fourth Division; we socialized in the upper class and with the high ranks. No one ever questioned our faith, such was the loyalty of my father, that he had everyone's trust.

I was raised in a family where religion was not given importance neither practiced; I never fully understood the meaning of religion. When things got out of hand and became more serious as Europe was on the brink of total destruction; my parents thought it was best to tell me about our faith. Yes, I am a Jew; amazed, speechless - my world was turned upside down. It's quite funny, how one small minor detail of one's life could alter the course of the rest of the journey.

A few days later, I was taking turns at the swing in the backyard with my neighbors. When a person with medals and decorations on his uniform, walked in. He came and sat right next to me. Had a lot of good things to say about my father, praised his work and valor. Affirmed me that he and father were very close mates; that they had fought side by side and had each others back on the battle field.

His smile should have said it all and revealed his intentions. Lost in my own world, I accidentally disclosed the family's secret. He consoled me and gave reassurance; that everything was going to be fine. I should have spotted his disguise.

The next morning, I am woken up by the impatient banging on the front door, these hammer pounding noises did not stop for quite sometime. A minute later, echoes of two gun shots were the only voice coming back; my heart skipped a beat as I froze like a zombie faintly looking out of my bedroom window.

They came for me, the only thing I was able to clutch on was the little red jacket my mother had woven. A part of me knew that this was inevitable, my heart was aching but my eyes were falling short on tears.

I donned my jacket as they escorted me out of my own house onto a jeep. Innocent blood was spilled that day just because my parents concealed their identity and the so called friend veiled his.

Me in my little red jacket and destruction all around; that's what was left of it ...

The Death of Hemlin

By Sana Noor

(A Re-telling of the Pied Piper of Hemlin)

He was dying. He knew as much, but had not found a way around his ill-timed fate.

His eyes roamed feverishly around the room, looking for the slightest clue that would end his soon-to-be journey to the grave. A single vein protruded from his neck and his twig like fingers tightened their hold around the goblet. The wine sloshed from side to side as his body started to convulse with rage. His eyes, the colour of the night sky seemed to darken further and suddenly he threw the goblet. It resonated with a sharp clang and its contents stained the wall of the meeting room. His advisors winced at the sound and stepped out of the way.

“Are you trying to tell me that you have no way out of this? You dare come before me with no solutions at all!” The king growled. The advisors kept silent with their eyes downcast, fearful of facing the wrath of the tyrant king. “After all I have done for you! Is it too much to ask, when all you have to do is find a way for me to live a little longer.” He spat out. The anger revived the tic in his eye and made him repeatedly blink his eyes. “Get out!” He ground out. “You disgust me.”

Soon he was left alone with no one but himself for company. There was no one he could trust, not even his family. His many wives hated each other and seethed with envy every time they were in the same vicinity. His children, even though he loved them, were far too young to understand the predicament of the situation.

“It seems death finally has me concerned.” He whispered to himself. “Death seems to be the answer to every thing.”

Suddenly struck with a thought, a malicious grin broke out on his face, “Death!” He screamed as if it were the answer to all his problems and ran out of the room.

His indigo robes bordered with a thick gold lace flew behind him as he quickened his pace. His unruly hair and ill-kept beard made him seem ferocious just as if he were a lion hunting its prey. He was a man on a mission. He entered his bed chamber, locked the door, and drew all the curtains, so that the room was enveloped in darkness, the only source of light being a single flickering candle.

From within his tightly shut cupboard he took out a small box. Almost immediately he was engrossed with its beauty and his fingers felt every inch of it, from the carved decorations to the intricate symbols. Shaking his head, he snapped out of his trance and proceeded to unlock the box.

The box creaked open and a strong stench filled the room. The king shuddered with disgust when he saw what lay before him. The decaying heart of his brother. His wish for power had been granted when he took his life.

He placed the box on the table and took the heart out. It had long ago stopped beating and now lay blackened and prune like, just waiting to disintegrate. Before he could have any second thoughts, he took a bite and swallowed without chewing. He repeated the procedure two more times, ultimately leaving only a sticky feeling on his fingers. Almost immediately his body rejected it all and out it came. When it was all over, he wiped his mouth and waited.

The candle started to flicker uncontrollably. A great roaring fire took its place and out from it came Death. He wore a hooded cloak and carried a scythe. His skeletal fingers were the only part of his body that was visible to the king.

“You dare call upon Death!” With a voice menacing and threatening, he pointed his scythe towards the king. The king in fear backed up and bowed at Death.

“M-m-my apologies, my Lord. I simply call for a favour.” The king stuttered from his position.

“A favour!” Death screamed. “You dare to still ask for a favour? Have I already not granted enough for you? And when is it that you plan to repay them?”

Filled with a semblance of confidence, the king looked up and said, “Soon, my Lord. Very soon. All I ask is a thousand more years to live and you shall have all the death you desire. I’ll wage wars. Have people murdered. Anything so that you can feed on their souls.”

“You are already overdue, and I simply do not have the patience to wait any longer. So instead, all you have to do is say ‘yes’ to me killing anyone I want and I’ll grant you your thousand years. What is you answer?” Death proposed with a wicked smile on his face.

“Anyone, my Lord. They are yours. You have my word.” The king cried in joy, not realizing the depth of the demand he had just agreed to.

With that said Death disappeared with a loud cackle and left behind the dying flame of the candle.

The king pulled apart the curtains and smiled at the city below, but what he saw tore him to pieces. For it was Death feeding on the souls of all the children in the city. He cried out in protest, but Death only raised a finger to silence him.

“A deal is a deal, dear king.”