Noah by Toby Al-R

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

The day was beautiful.

The sky kissed the sea to become bluer and birds hovered over the trees singing a train of magical melody. But I was on the verge of depression; collecting fragments of my lost heart, I am overwhelmed with debt, my wife filing divorce papers, my children abandoned me and they occasionally send me hate letters.

Rumors echoed in the strip club that they want to get rid of me. After thirty years of coordinating their mic… I guess I am getting too old to represent the beauty of the youth.

My fifth decade struck yet I have lost everything I worked for! Heck I even lost track of days. So today I am going to treat myself… by blowing up what remained in my wallet in a luxurious restaurant.

Upon my arrival and settling on the regal table the waitress recommended to me the chef’s special, I went for it and started to examine the stainless steel fork and knife, the posh napkins and candles, the lush chandelier and the distinctive decoration of the restaurant.

Time passed in exchange for the dish to arrive topped with a haddock on a bed of samphire. The succulent plant were too salty for me but I convinced myself it must taste good being that expensive.

I took my time and treasured this moment of reality escape. Oh how I wished for a fresh new start for me and all humanity. To strip off all the negative attributes we created upon ourselves and wash the sins of our own creation.

I closed my eyes…

And the universe responded to my dream;

Tectonic shocks crept to the ground!

The sky turned ruby red!

A wormhole drilled the space and spawned a new earth-like planet!

The hibernated moon is finally awake! It orbited closer to the sun and obliterated hatching billions of mega speed dolphins swimming in the space.

Years passed and people learnt how to tame the dolphins and travel through space in flashing speed. I was the first to set foot on the new planet. To start a new beginning for humanity with no dusty book to follow and no rusty stanza to obey. Because in here all rules are under one rule, Noah’s rule of no rules.

Along with my followers we started to construct the biggest stripping stage ever nested on the ground, it is going to be the capital of the new planet for all the people to come and strip off their clothes along with the old traditions. A place beyond war debt greed hunger taxes disease poverty pollution crime vengeance extinction consumption slavery unemployability corporatism corruption stratification and all the sins of our own creation.

It is time to STRIP OFF!

The new planet is magnificent, mysterious and pristine with abundance for all. In the summer ice cracks burning fissures and in the winter frozen volcanoes spit blue tongues. And today the stage is set for the opening night.

People started to forsake the earth and swarm the new planet leaving behind only the richest elite cruising their yachts and using their golden toilets realizing there is no one left to steal from.

Music gushed from the ground, light beams crisscrossed like a fishing net set to capture your mind with excessive euphoria. I held the microphone like a king holding his scepter.

When I was just about to give the first announcement, I suddenly;

Opened my eyes…

Only to see the waitress holding the bill.

“But Daddy I Love Him” by Amira Sheikh

 

What can you do if you fall in love with a person with whom you can start a life only when your life is about to end? What can you do when your heart doesn’t understand the language of law and justice? What can you do if the love of your life is a criminal? Well not just because he stole my heart, but because he was accused of being involved in a murder and looting a bank or two.
My father, Lieutenant Fredrick Carter was the head of the maximum security prison after serving 8 years in the military. He always made me build interest in his work and trained me like I was one of the soldiers in his army. His apathy and harsh nature towards me always reminded me that I was not his son.
I was 25 when my dad took me to his work place, prison. That was when I met him.
On the 2nd floor, outside cell number 134, behind the bars, I studied the face of a man in his late forties, dressed shabbily in a dark blue prison jump suit, a heavy, built figure and anxious grey eyes. His toned arms hardly visible behind the scary tattoos. He looked at me and smiled. That was it. I guess this is why they called him a killer. He was beautiful, or maybe my aesthetic sense didn’t know it’s boundaries.
I started meeting him every week. After a few weeks I met him almost every day. My dad was happy about me being so dedicated to his work. I told him about my life and he told me about his. I was a skeptic when he told me about why he was a prisoner. After knowing his story and what he had been through, for me he was innocent and even if he wasn’t, he was a better person now and imprisonment for twenty years wasn’t the right punishment for him. I was ready to do anything to get him out of there. Even if it was against the law.
I helped him plan a prison break, or let’s say he helped me plan the prison break. As I knew each and every corner of the prison and I was an astute observer, I decided the time, the day and how will it happen. I had my access to the main power room. I told the officers I was making an observation about how everything is controlled there and I asked them to tell me about the main power source. They gave me the smallest details about all the buzzers and switches and also told me about the main lever which when pulled down, there will be a black out and all the bars and gates will be unlocked automatically.
One night after 12, when most of the guards are off duty, I reached the main power room, held my breath and with the image of his grey eyes and crooked smirk in my eyes, I fearlessly pulled down that lever. Within a split of a second everything was dark and I could hear the convicts yelling and fighting. With a flash light in my hand, I ran to the second floor, entered his cell quickly, held his tight wrists and ran towards the last exit gate which led us to the forest. My heart pounding, my legs shivering and my mind telling me to stop. It was 2 in the morning and I was in the dark forest running with an escaped prisoner who broke out of the maximum security prison with the help of the daughter of the owner of the prison. Love surely is unconditional.
We ran for two hours after which we finally sat under a huge tree as it seemed like we were in the safe zone. I rested my head on his stone hard chest and we both fell asleep. It was the first time I was this close to the person I love, without any iron bars separating us. I could touch him, I could feel his heart beat, I could hear him breathe but only if I knew that it was the last time, I wouldn’t spend that transient moment sleeping.
We woke up with the sound of choppers right above our heads, surrounded by my dad and various other officers pointing guns towards us. As we tried to move we could see and hear bullets in the air. He caught my neck with his left arm and his other arm grabbed my stomach. “Let her go at the count of three!” My dad commanded.
-1-2-3-
The sound of me yelling, “But Daddy I love him!” was suppressed under the noise of the gun-shot which went straight through the middle of his head.

“But Daddy I Love Him” by Ahmed AlRasheed

I ran and ran and ran and my heart thumped as I bled tears. Scared and petrified, I wanted to hide. I wanted to stay away from everyone’s sight. I know I lost him. I know I will never see him again. Yet, I felt like I did. I felt like I could talk to him. He was my everything, and I miss him. He would smile whenever I was sad, and it made me smile creating that comforting feel when knew everything was going to be okay. I miss him and I want to see him. How can he just go away like that, disappear and leave me here alone? I wept as I slowed my pace, and in a flash of a second, I collapsed to my hands and knees. I crawled to the nearest tree and laid my back against it. While I sat head sunk deep into my knees, crying, weeping my tears for him. Suddenly a hand touched my shoulder, it was warm and as I looked up, my dad was there standing, wanting to comfort me. He sat next to me and without hesitation I leaped into his arms, crying into his chest. “It’s okay sweetheart,” he held me closer as his eyes teared up, knowing exactly how I felt. “But daddy I love him!”  From then on, we sat there, looking down at the graveyard, where my husband joined my mom in a journey into the clouds. The place they went to had no feelings, and even if there was it was only of what they had left. The feeling wasn’t happiness as it was thought to be, it was happiness but with something missing, me.

“But Daddy I Love Him” by Salman AlKhaledi

“OK Bye. I hope you can survive the weekend all by yourself.”

“Oh don’t worry about me now, I am going to kick back and be myself the whole weekend!”
Oh child! Finally I am all alone, girl, I’ve been waiting the whole month for those rascals to get out of my hair. I need to wash it clean and blow dry those luscious curls, maybe even get that cement out from under my nails. Girlfriends were all tripping on me all night in our last gathering, telling me i’m all busted and crusted, polishing those tips would be HEAVEN! Oh and I have got to do something about those pin point black dots, there’s a million of them!
Oh my goodness! would you feel that water? Honey child, I think the sting of the construction sight is dying in the delicious bath soap I got from Lush, umhm, that lesbian knew what she was talking about. Girl, I thought lesbians are home depot oriented, but this lives to tell you, you shouldn’t be judging an issue of Vogue when that stinky-ass Rihanna is on it, she would be wearing some Oscar De La Renta, with a god damn new real human hair wear. Umhm, she will be all up in everybody’s business, nice weave Girlfriend! I would sell my own gorgeous body to get that weave.
Girl, you are one fine vixen, look at you! Even your reflection is jealous! Oh, some charming man is going to fall in L-O-V-E with Y-O-U! You are Cinderella, and he is your prince in shining Armani- Oh yes he is, or maybe even a warrior goddess! Oh yes! And he is your right hand in command! Ooh yes!
Oh but you know, uhm, see girl, you look like a fine Arabian princess, that’s right! In a palace far far away in the desert! Yes you honey bunch of oats! And that darling handsome man is the stable boy! Oh, where’s that Kimono?! There we go! Hmmm, Yes! Stable boy! They will be furious with me! Do I dare bring shame to the royal family? Do I dare defy my father?! Maybe he will kill him!
I will never let that happen! Never! I will jump on his body to protect him, I will yell and scream “Oh  Daddy I love him! Please don’t break my fragile heart daddy!!”.
“… Khalid! Your evil son hid my cell phone in the kitchen again! I had to come all the way back from… why are you wearing my Kimono?”

“But Daddy I Love Him” by Lucy Moore

Summers at my grandparents cottage were always long and hot. Nestled in the countryside, we were free to run and play over the rolling hills or in the streams that trickled between hundred year old oak tree roots. My two older brothers would always run faster and further away. Disappearing into knight fights with twigs that would become jewel encrusted daggers. 

My little legs could never keep up, stopping at the barn to catch my breath and by the time I looked up they had vanished into the long grass.

But the barn became my sanctuary. Inside the cool air calmed my flushed cheeks. The mice would scamper away, birds sang to their chicks and the hay bales provided a climbing frame.

I would go there everyday, sometimes taking jam sandwiches or a colouring book to pass my time.

One summer, as the days passed slowly and I was on my favourite hay bale, I heard a whimper.

Looking down into the dark, I saw two large, brown eyes looking back at me.

I climbed down and on all fours, peered into a small crevice in between two crates.

He coward.

His small paws disturbed the dust as he backed into the corner.

Once it settled I had a piece of cheese in my hand, coaxing him forward. Slowly he crept towards me, his fluffy ears and chubby tummy curious for the treat. I called him Cheddar.

For a few days I took nick knacks for him. A blanket to keep him warm at night and biscuits because they were easy to sneak from my grandmothers jar.

One day my grandfather spotted me smuggling a bottle of milk. After some questioning I gave in and told him about Cheddar.

He chuckled, patting my scruffy hair, gave strict instructions to bring my puppy home that evening.

My brothers were initially upset that I’d kept my fluffy secret from them but Cheddar quickly became a part of our family at the cottage. We all loved him. His naturally playful character made him a great companion for my brothers and I.

Summer came to an end far to quickly that year. The day my parents arrived to take us home, our belongings were neatly packed in brown leather cases.

We waited anxiously, not knowing how our father would receive our new friend. We’d patiently taught him to sit on command, hoping he would impress our parents and we’d be allowed to take him home.

We watched as their car came down the long driveway and we ran out to greet them.

We were soon having tea in the garden and our grandmother was regaling stories of our mischief over that summer. Cheddar was plodding around the garden and as agreed, our grandfather approached the subject of us taking him home.

A flat No resounded in our ears.

We tried to plead, we tried to reason but he wouldn’t budge. “But daddy, we love him”. Nothing, no budging. Our military father was as harsh and strict on us as he is on his men. Our mother didn’t meet our eyes. The car ride home was silent.

At home my brothers and I would reminisce for hours everyday after school, talking more in that first month home than we had for years.

We would see Cheddar the next summer, he was a stallion by the time we returned and bounded towards us. That summer, and each one that followed, we would run and chase and play for hours.

But I’ll never forget that first summer. For that summer we grew to love him and each other.

“But Daddy I Love Him” by Merriam AlFuhaid

For as long as she could remember, Dana had wished boys liked her half as much as mosquitos did. Really, even a quarter as much would have been enough. She’d read once in a magazine that mosquitos were drawn to people who ate a lot of sugar or were overly emotional, and she was living proof that being both of those things was a guaranteed way to attract bugs and repel men. Not that she blamed the men for thinking she wasn’t much of a catch. If hips didn’t lie, she certainly hoped the tape measure did, and it was certainly hard to find a place for a man in your arms when you had a piece of cake in one hand and a box of tissues in the other.

That is, until Bader came along. Bader—he fit so easily into her life, and he was more attentive than the peskiest fly, but luckily much better looking and way harder for people to kill. Her relationship with him was a whirlwind of sweaty palms, racing pulses, and romantic words that sent her head spinning. She loved him. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Sometimes, when she had had too much dessert with dinner, she would place her hands on her stomach and think, “This is what it will feel like when I am pregnant with our children.”

So, when Bader said that Facebook was getting dull and perhaps they should actually meet in person, Dana was thrilled. When he suggested December 27th, her heart almost burst because she just couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate her thirteenth birthday.

She told her parents she was meeting her friends at the mall, and her unsuspecting father dropped her off at three PM.  She raced to Baroue, where they’d agreed to meet. Bader was already there, and for a few minutes after their first hellos she stared at him, transfixed. But only for a few minutes. Then she felt a hand close around her arm. She turned and saw her father—he had asked her to pick up a loaf of bread from Carrefour, and in one hand he held the two KD he had forgotten to give her for it. With his other hand, he dragged her home.

“Our daughter,” he said to Dana’s mother, “has been seeing men.” Then he pushed Dana into the living room,    where her mother, brother, and sister all sat.

It annoyed Dana that her brother and sister should be present. Rays of judgment were emanating from her brother Qutaiba’s eyes. He would certainly not understand, considering what had happened with the girl he’d nearly proposed to last month. He’d decided to approach her at college first. He had spoken to her, she had spoken back, and his heart was now broken because he refused to marry any woman loose enough to talk to him just because he was talking to her.

But he was still better than her sister Fay, who didn’t believe in marriage or love at all. Dana always got the vague impression there was something Fay really hated about men but didn’t know what it was, although she’d had her suspicions after finding out Fay’s favorite book was called Bringing Back the Eunuch.

“Explain yourself!” Dana’s father demanded.

She looked at the floor.

“Were you or were you not attempting to go on a date?”

“I was.”

“Don’t you know dating is haram?”

“Yes…but—”

“But what?”

“But Daddy, I love him!” Dana wailed.

“Love?” he spat. “What you call love is just lust. Why do you think we arrange marriages here? You should never be with someone because you are physically attracted to him. It will do nothing but hopelessly impair your judgment.”

Dana’s mother nodded. “Look at how unattractive your father is,” she said. “This is why we’re so happily married.”

Tears welled up in Dana’s eyes. “But I really do love him!”

“Enough!” her father said. “You’re grounded, and I’m keeping your mobile for the next month.”

“What?” she cried.

“Give me your mobile.”

With a huff Dana handed over her phone and stalked off to her bedroom. She opened up her laptop. At least she could still use Facebook on her computer, and to her delight, she had a new message waiting from Bader.

hope your not in trouble and i can see u agin bb u looked so pretty especially as you wer bein dragged away i miss u already, he said. one of the best dates i ever had even tho we didnt get to eat xx

This was by far the most romantic message Bader had ever sent her, but Dana found an odd feeling rising from the pit of her stomach. It was revulsion. Then it hit her that ever since their five-minute date she had been too focused on defending him and their relationship to remember what she’d felt when she actually laid eyes on him for the first time. It hadn’t been what she was expecting. Her fingers hovered over the computer keyboard reluctantly, but she knew what she had to do.  Dear Bader, she typed, As much as I have enjoyed our relationship, I am afraid it can no longer continue, even though you are a wonderful man, especially when I am not actually with you. You see, our date today may have been brief but I cannot pretend I did not realize anything from it. I am sorry, but I don’t think it was really you I loved. She paused, wondering how much honesty was too much honesty. But perhaps, in the end, it would benefit him, so she continued: I just don’t find you attractive without Instagram filters.

            She pressed send with a sigh of relief, but the click seemed to echo the beat of Bader’s heart, which was surely going to break. She put her hand to her forehead. She’d only been thirteen less than a day, but she could already tell it was going to be hard.

“But Daddy I Love Him” by Fatma AlSumaiti

I am 27 years old now.  A single girl that is threatened by spinsterhood according to them.  And a part of a sub-society that denounces common ways. 
But daddy, I love him. I said it because I found the person who draws unbridled smiles on my face. I won’t say he is the person that completes me because I am a person of my own. I have never seen myself as a piece that needs to be whole. That’s off point, though.

But daddy, I love him. I love him. Love must be such a dirty and degrading notion for them to condemn it with such hatred. I must be bringing shame to my family name because I accidentally lost my grip on morality and let myself feel.  The horror.

Staring at my 27 burning birthday candles, I am more rebellious than ever. All the suitors who.. Who am I kidding. Not all, the few. I am practically a spinster now, remember?  My mother has this hope that I’ll give in. That I’ll lower my standards and compromise because I am almost out of options.

But daddy I love him.  Let that phrase resonate in their minds.  Because even if I refuse to admit that they decided my fate, they did.

I’ll march on my rebellious road.  I’ll march and march because this society will not force me into a box of its making.  They will not subvert my mind.  Not my mind.

A spinster, they said. Huh.  Call me a rebel.  A freedom fighter.  A maverick.  Because daddy, I do love him.  And you, you will not chain me down.

“But Daddy I Love Him” by Hawra’a Khalfan

She looks up at the Grey skies and wishes upon a cloud.

Her mind shuffles through memories of her throughout the years wishing upon multiple stars, she had wished on those spheres of fire with such belief that they would somehow align and help one of her dreams come true. But now she has retired from these useless fire breathing rocks- she knows better than to repeat that series of mistakes again. It took years for her to give up on those stars, and now the clouds are her allies.

The clouds will make her dreams come true. All she wants to do is speak to him one last time.

I miss him- she told the depressingly dark water vapor which seemed to be hovering over her everywhere she went. I wish he hadn’t gone. I wish he was here. I want him to be here. I want to feel his skin. Raincloud, do you hear me? I know it isn’t possible to bring back the remnants of him. Is he nearby? To her utter astonishment the clouds responded instantly and cried with her. They wept and wept and the droplets that seeped from the skies hugged every surface on her body. She felt the warmth of a mothers embrace oozing through her pores. He is nearby, isn’t he? I can feel his presence, the timeless satisfactory tyranny of his very being near mine. The darkness bleeds one raindrop of hope at a time for her, and every drop is bliss. This cloud, is he above? Is he touching me through this rain? Or am I trapped within an illusion of his exquisite downpour?

 

She sat as still as a statue, mourning the death of them. The unrealistic notion of what they would have been.

She looked up at her new group of faint supporters.

I would have fought for us.

I saw us

Years from now

I saw our life

I thought we would be.

I thought we would live

side by side.

I would have fought for us.

Run miles

Climbed mountains

and all those other ridiculous

love struck promises.

I would have fought for us

I would have had that ridiculous

“But daddy I love him” fight

for you.

I would have singled out my family

I would have given it all

to you

unconditionally.

I miss you.

“But Daddy I Love Him” By Berlin

Him

I thought I’d write you a letter since I didn’t get to put a word in when we last talked.

Who can blame you right?

Why should you listen to anything I say?…

I broke your heart.

I’m almost certain this paper will be torn into pieces before the first word gets read.

But in the off chance that you will give it a glance, I want you to see this clearly…

I LOVE YOU.

I know you said it’s useless to you now but I just had to say it.

Not to make myself feel better, this is probably one of the rare occasions when I am not thinking about myself.

This is for you.

This is what I feel for you and I know you will hate me even more for saying it after everything has ended, but it’s something you need to know.

It was never you, it was always me.

And I know you told me not to resort to clichés but it’s true.

You were everything I could have ever asked for.

I was just an ungrateful, selfish, heartless, brainless coward.

You were the dream come true that I turned into a nightmare by being too busy sleeping.

I was scared.

This was not supposed to happen.

I didn’t want to be with you but I couldn’t get you off my mind.

I tried to prevent it from becoming worse by limiting our contact to touch.

I was a man after-all.

Some of us do these things all the time.

Some of us even parade it.

Why shouldn’t I?

You were crazy enough to agree to it.

I was going to keep it physical, purely sexual.

But I just had to keep you for one more hour… and another.

And before I knew it, I was watching you sleep in my arms and all I could think of was how lucky I was to be the man holding you.

Before I knew it, I was checking all your facebook activities.

Hoping that status update was about me.

Wishing I was with you in every check-in.

Wondering where that man, whose arm was around you in a picture, lived and if he would look as happy without his teeth.

You consumed me.

There was not an hour I didn’t think of you.

My days were spent looking forward to the nights that I can feel you again.

Some nights I thought about crossing the line.

Some nights I wanted to ask you so many questions… like why do you smile so much when you sleep? Like why would you settle for this set up? Like who are you thinking of when you stare painfully in space? Like can you tell me where to find the pieces so I can put you back together? Like would you want to go out for dinner some time?

Most nights the questions got stuck inside.

Other nights they got said when it was impossible for you to hear, like when you were asleep… or in the shower, or laughing really hard at the TV.

Some nights I actually saw forever in your eyes.

It was terrifying.

I have never felt this way before and I didn’t know if I could handle more.

You are beautiful and smart and amazing and I honestly didn’t know how to deal with it.

I didn’t know how to treat you right because there was always an inkling feeling that it was wrong.

I couldn’t even introduce you to my friends, let alone my family.

This is not the right place for whatever we had.

We had no chance.

No future.

When my parents told me they found the girl for me to marry… I was furious.

I was so angry… at them, at the poor girl I never even met, at myself most of all.

I wasn’t ready to end what we had… whatever it was.

I actually considered screaming “But daddy I love HIM!!”

That’s when I found out I did.

Love you.

And when I realized I could not say it out loud, that’s when I knew I had to let you go.

You deserve more than I could ever offer.

You deserve someone who will hold your hand and be proud to be the man you are with.

You deserve someone who is not scared of how good you make him feel and who is dedicated to making you feel the same if not better.

You deserve “I love you’s” whispered in your ears, written on love notes, played on boom boxes, shouted at your window.

You deserve an I love you that doesn’t end with a sorry… or a goodbye.

You deserve to be with someone who will acknowledge your pain, embrace your insecurities and kiss your fears away.

You deserve the man I wish I was but will never be.

PLEASE.

Do not think that I chose her over you.

In time, I hope you see that I actually chose your happiness over mine.

You will never be completely happy with me.

I can only promise you nights… never tomorrows.

I had to leave you to give you a real chance at happiness.

And I had the perfect excuse to leave.

Oddly, I found myself thanking my parents who barely knew who I was and the girl who will never live up to your smiles because if it were all up to me, I would have never had the strength to let you go.

I’m sorry… for everything.

I didn’t know what to do with you and the emotions that you made me feel.

All I ever heard when I was younger was how a man loves a woman… they even had a song for it.

No one ever told me what to do when a man loves a man… in a place like this more so.

I am terrified and confused.

I agree when you said I didn’t have the right to act as hurt as you are.

But you have to know that my heart stops when I think of the times we had together and it explodes every time I am reminded that we will never have it again.

It might be impossible for you to believe, but this is hard for me too.

In a better place and time, I swear I would never allow this to happen.

I swear I will never fall for you.

I’ll jump.

“But Daddy I Love Him” by Farah Al-Sultan

              I thought this was it! Today shall be the day I tell my parents about him, his name is Gabriel. He appeared out of nowhere in my life, it felt like I was destined to love and be with him. I gathered my courage and went to the living room, where my parents are.

“Mother, father, I came here to tell you something about myself that I’ve been holding in.” I finally spoke when I reached the room. While waiting for one of them to respond, my eyes darted between my dad and Gabriel, who stood behind my dad’s chair.

“Go on my dear.” My lovely mom said, and so I did.

“I’ve met a guy named Gabriel, we both are in love with each other at the moment. I thought you should know, and probably meet him as well” I said all that with a fixed smile and eyes on Gabriel.

“Let me guess, he’s standing behind me isn’t he.” My dad spoke as he turned around facing Gabriel. All I did was nod.

“I see.” My dad said looking at my mother, he paused for a second or more, then continued “I think it’s a great idea to meet him! Why don’t you go pack your bag, that goes for Gabriel as well, I’d tell you where we’re going, but let’s keep it a surprise shall we.” My dad smiled, I did too.

“That sounds incredible!” I said immediately, I couldn’t maintain my excitement and happiness.

In less than an hour I was ready, so was Gabriel. We got in the car, all four of us. I asked questions to what are destination is, but both my parents refused to answer.

My dad finally parked in front of a four story building. I was frustrated and felt nothing but hate, I knew this building like it was the back of my hand. It was a psychiatric rehabilitation center. Sure, they thought I was crazy, but how could they think Gabriel was just one of my hallucination. He was so real, so vivid.

I was sent to a room were all you can see is nothing but bright white. The color disgusted me, but I was glad Gabriel was still with me. It made sense now that he wasn’t real, to the fact that they let him in the room. Even after all that he still didn’t leave. I realized it’s because I still loved him. I then sat at the far end of the room with my knees up to my chest crying, Gabriel hugging me silently. I then spoke my last words “but daddy I love him.”

“But Daddy I Love Him” by Batool Hasan

I play with the blond tendrils of my Barbie doll’s hair.  They look like silver silk in the shallow moonlight. It’s past my bedtime and I should be asleep in bed, but sleep won’t come and I don’t want to make daddy angry.

I hear shouts and doors banging as I drop my Barbie doll. I quickly slip into bed and drape my blanket over me.

Don’t come in. Oh please, don’t come in.

Five minutes pass then ten, but nobody comes into my room. I get out of bed, cautiously trying not to make a sound. I edge closer to the door and quietly turn the doorknob. Hushed tones flow from the hallway, drawing me in. I soundlessly sneak outside and creep into the hallway. The door to the main living room is open, and I hide beside one of the bookshelves lining the hallway. I take a peek at the living room, and find my eldest sister with daddy. Her eyes are rimmed with red, bruises cover the left half of her face, scarlet scratches shine on her chin. Her abaya is a ragged mess of ripped fabric. Her hijab hangs halfway off her head, revealing a series of wild knots in her hair.

She shakes her head in response to whatever daddy is whispering to her. I catch words that sound like “divorce” and “hell”. Whispers turn to hisses, daddy’s face turns redder with each one.

“B-but daddy, I love him!” my sister’s cracking voice lets out, like glass shattering on concrete. If mommy wasn’t awake before, she would be now.

“If he loves you, then why did he hit you?” daddy’s calm voice surprises me.

“No man that loves you would hurt you like this.”

My sister’s tears stream down her cheeks. I accidently bump into mommy as turn to leave. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask why I’m not in bed, but I can see tears pooling in her eyes.

I run into my room, shut the door with a bang, and grab my Barbie doll from where I dropped it.

I climb into bed and whisper to her, “Don’t ever fall in love.”

“But Daddy I Love Him” by Quamer Al-Mumin

When will they finally realize it? I’m no longer their baby girl. I’ve fallen, scraped my knee and have gotten back up so many times that I’ve lost count. So many times that I’ve formed a shell. So many times that they don’t even know about.

When will they finally realize it? I’m no longer that gullible youngster that used to give trust to those who least deserved it. I’ve learned to adjust to this cruel world. I. Can. Take. Care. Of. Myself.

When will they finally realize it? That I’ve changed. That his eyes have changed me. So unbelievably hazel, they plead me to stay. I tried to leave, daddy, I swear. But the way he’d hold on to me so tight. Like each time I   turn away would be the last.

He’d lay his head on my chest, breathing in my scent like it was the smell of morning dew. Our Eskimo kisses. Ever so light, ever so innocent.

Because that’s what we have daddy, it’s more than love. It’s not just him who needs me, that feeling is mutual to the both of us. He’s always on my mind. In my thoughts. In my prayers. I’ve learned responsibility the hard way, I promise. You can’t take away the only thing that gives me light, through the tunnel of sorrow that we call life. I know you think I’ve crossed the line, but daddy I love him! Can we keep him?

“But Daddy I Love Him” by Noragotcharisma

Father, dad. Daddy. You know, that man that overprotects us. Or in more recent terms, the man we’d kill to be his baby mama. Or maybe its just an atheist’s way of kidding around with ole Adam. 

But Eve won’t like that, no no. It’s much too disrespectful. After all, our mother is the one who tames our hostile feelings towards our Father.

And no matter where you go, you’ll find different faces for the one Father. In Brazil, you might see a pale man with an oh-so angelic face who came to us from no act of sin.

Jesus, ain’t that something!

And just like Jesus, you will always be ridiculed for being different. You’ll be even more rejected if you present something pure. Something the world has clearly lost touch of, the love for Him.

People might look it, act it, speak it, but never really be it. They’ll use Him to get green, they’ll even use Him to try to take His place. But silly old man, being so self-obsessed to think all this was made by him. No, it was made by Him.

Father, dad. Daddy, I love Him. And I’ll never let the love for man overshadow the love for Him.

“But Daddy I Love Him” by Wil

David paused. James had just asked him if he wanted to go fishing Saturday afternoon, a regular thing they’d been doing for a few years. David realized he was going to have to tell James at one point or another that he had found a new girl. He’d known James since they kept tadpoles as pets. Since their mothers arranged birthdays for all the neighbourhood kids and the present of their dreams was a caterpillar tracked remote controlled car rumoured to be capable of 80km/h. They had played under 12, then under 16, then senior cricket for their hometown together, David batting 5th and a fairly average fielder, James a wicketkeeper who batted third, on after the first wicket. They had fought over a simultaneous crush as 10 year olds, their friendship untouched only because both were rejected. Fishing was the salve of their souls, the centre of the week even though it was on a weekend. It didn’t need to be a huge adventure, it just needed to be a simple short boat trip followed by a lot of drifting on the water. The occasional shout across to another bunch of mates doing the same thing. The occasional whir of line chasing a fooled fish. The occasional shark stealing the catch, uncaring at their curses.

“Yeah see you 4 o’clock”, he said.

Simin flipped through her book with a sigh. She usually loved Gabriel García Márquez but Chronicles of a Death Foretold was just a bit too violent at the end. What was with the depressing, desperate string of love letters mentioned then too, she thought. Nothing in the story beforehand really supported such a display of devotion. Simin had grown up in Shiraz, Iran and moved to Australia last year. No one knew about Iran here, except that they were trying to bomb Israel. And that her hometown has the same name as a wine grape, something they all thought rather funny because Muslims can’t drink.

She and David had met, of all places, in a drive in cinema. She had learnt that these were very popular when researching Western culture before emigrating but on arriving found that they were very rare now. He was the manager of Salisbury Heights Drive In and handed over her and her friends’ tickets to the first Hunger Games movie. He had paused giving them to her, like a lot of Western men tended to briefly halt their activities when she was close, a look of curiosity flashing across his face. “If you wait 5 minutes, can I show you something?”, he ventured, playfully withholding the tickets. She noticed his broad hands. He was wearing Old Spice, a quaint choice. His intent was completely clear but, somehow to her on that night, probably because she’d never been propositioned so hilariously straightforwardly and also because she found herself sinking involuntarily into his green eyes, this one seemed less than half obnoxious. Explaining to her friends soon after they’d found a place to park in front of the screen that she needed to find the bathroom, she made her way back to the ticket office, where they watched the movie for a few moments from the projection room, which comically enough had a poster of Ingleurious Basterds on the wall.

She got up off the couch and unplugged her phone from the charger, wondering what David was up to.

“Simin,” muttered her father from the other side of the living room. She turned her phone so it wasn’t visible from his direction. “Mmm?” she asked, on Whatsapp with David at the same time seeing what he was up to tomorrow. “You seem different lately azizam” he went on, this time lowering the paper so she could see his face. This also meant he could see her attending to her beloved smartphone. “If it’s another one of those disgusting, beer swilling, foul mouthed Aussie blokes with one of those loud cars you know what I’m going to say.” Simin rolled her eyes and went on typing to David. “But daddy, I love him!” she cynically retorted, walking into the kitchen to fix some coffee.

Smoke by Ahmed AlRasheed

The bedroom door opened and all you can see is the shadow of this delicate creature. Her curves are so defined that you could almost see smoke escaping her pores. There she was unclothed, fine, and precious, walking slowly towards me begging for something. The moonlight trickled from the seeping sky and gleamed off her long velvety hair. Her skin glowed bronze from the bleeding sunlight that shines every morning. When I looked upon her from head to toe, it seems as though her divine legs continue to drift, from her waist to the tip of her toes. The angel approaches me and sits on the side of the bed tempting me to touch her. Her polished back looked like it could be featured in a painting. The angel suddenly turns around and lays down right next to me, so close I could feel her comforting breath. Her lips full and inviting seeking attention to them with a clean quirk of her lips. I look up just in time to be soaked into her mythical almond shaped eyes, so clear and so precise its hard to compare to anything. I put my hand around her, pulling her closer to me, her breasts brushing against my chest. There was this smell, her unique smell, and it was hers alone. And it triggers memories, good memories. She looked at me knowing exactly what i was thinking, she knew my intentions for her were feisty, she comes closer to my ear and whispers, “Not today, I’m tired honey.”

Smoke by Quamer Al-Mumin

I looked through the bars of his cage as he paced back and forth. His feet echoed like drums against the metal floor. No matter which direction he paced, his eyes were locked on mine. Those deep yellow eyes held a look of determination. His upper lip twitched showing off his sharp canines. The stripes in his fur were drawn on with such elegance, he put Picasso to shame. As I watched him pace, I took out a cigarette and held it to my slightly parted lips. As I did so, I sat on the floor in front of his cage. I looked down at the pocket of my grey hoodie and dug for my lighter. I raised the lighter up to my cig and realized that he had stopped pacing and was now sitting across from me. I paused, cigarette hanging from my mouth, lighter in place, hand over the lighter to block out the wind, my eyes glued to his. His eyes then fell to my cancer stick, nostrils flaring. So I took it out of my mouth and placed it into his from between the bars. I held the lighter up for him and he leaned in holding the tip of the cigarette above the flame. And that day I had shared a much needed smoke with a Siberian Tiger.