Published on 02:00 AM, March 13, 2024

‘Ignite’: Sehri Tales selections, Day 1

The top selections in poetry, flash fiction and artwork for Day 1 of the Sehri Tales challenge; prompt: Ignite

Artwork by Muhammad Ahsan Nahiyan

I.
I both hated and loved my ability to tell when a conversation was ending. 
"I guess you're busy," Huan said, through the screen.
He's just done talking to me.
"I'll… I'll be off then?" Huan asked, uncertainly. Perhaps, reluctantly–I wanted to believe. 
"You must be much busier than me,' I said, not without bitterness. "Abroad, learning a new culture, studying in a foreign environment."
Perhaps he sensed something in my voice, and said nothing.
"Goodbye," I said, and waited for him to cut the call.
His face showed no indication of doing it. After a dreadful pause, he said, "Kaya? I'm so happy you picked up."
"Why wouldn't I?" 
"It's been a few months since we both talked."
"I don't exactly forget people when I don't see them for a few days."
"Kaya, I didn't forget you."
"You just didn't bother to call?"
Huan's expression was so sad, almost pitiful. And I hated myself. Our conversation had already been strained. I was so overjoyed to see his name pop up on my homescreen, so angry he'd taken so long to contact me, so wistful about all our past conversations and all the conversations I hadn't had the courage to start.
"You didn't bother to call me, either," Huan said, finally.
And now I felt guilty.
"I missed you."
And now I felt surprised. He never misses people. And I reminded him.
"I just… can't express it very well."
A pause.
"I hope you'll call me."

by Zaheen Tasfia Zuhair

 

II.
Where's the charger? The phone will die if I don't charge it immediately. But the moment my eyes found the elusive white cord, the lights went out. "A 90's kid should do better than this", I muttered under my breath as the phone pitiably died for the umpteenth time in my hand. Can't see a darned thing in this pitch darkness. How do I make my way back? Wait, what's that light at the other end of the room? There's someone studying under an actual charge light. "Hello", I said awkwardly, "Could I borrow your light?" The kid looked up from the textbook. He looked awfully familiar, yet strange, like a face known only from mirrors. "Gotta prepare for the exam", he said simply. "But you can take a candle. I have plenty just in case the light runs out of charge." He ignited a candle and handed it to me. Mumbling a thanks, I started walking. Just as I turned the corner, I could hear actual laughter and music. I didn't need the candle after all. There was a lantern in the room and people sitting around it in a circle, with a space for one more person. I knew them. "Where did you go off to? Come sit."- one of them said. I blew out the candle and took my place in the now-full circle.

by Kowshik Bhowmick 


 

III.
As the umbral hands wield their cruel might
Caging embrace unbearably tight
Brimstone and hellfire covering the sky
The watermelon heart still ignites
For they shall neither bow nor bend
For the ones called back home
And the tiny seeds who dwell
They shall never bid the sun and the stars farewell

by Tasmia Qazi