Mir Shajee
Bio
A humble weaver of words and tales, lost in the reverence of the divine beauty.
Stories (6)
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City of Angels
The rich earthy aroma of the smoke from the lit cigar neatly perched on the edge of the crystal ashtray filled the room. His voice echoed off of the dimly lit walls, its timbre emphasizing the gravitas of his persona and the authority of his reputation. He was undoubtedly one of the most acknowledged private detectives north of the rust belt. And yet, his personality was straight out of the 1950’s, as though he didn’t miss a beat in the subsequent decades. Nevertheless, his work spoke for itself, which is why there was usually a line of people out the door waiting to hire him for his expertise in missing persons cases. Today, however, was a different story, as the office was eerily empty, and the only sound that broke the silence was his somber voice as he answered a call from a potential client.
By Mir Shajee4 years ago in Fiction
Death by Chocolate
All it took was a single slice of chocolate cake. It was the story of the century, and the newsroom of the Raven’s Peak Herald was abuzz. As a reporter, I knew that this story would be a benchmark upon the history of our little town, and so did the two other reporters in the room. Having already spent most of the night digging up details from our sources on the streets, we sat around the conference table discussing the morning headline. Jeffrey Fields, our editor in chief, looked frustrated, as though he were seconds away from pulling out his hair.
By Mir Shajee4 years ago in Criminal
Sanctuary
The echo of the raindrops along the tin roof of the old family barn reverberated throughout the hay-filled, dimly lit interior. The sheer humidity was enough to drive me up the walls, but I rarely stayed inside the farmhouse anymore. The faint, yet not-so-distant rumbling in the clouds gave me some comfort, drawing my mind away from the reality of what my world had become. Most people found the sound of thunder to be disconcerting, but it washed over me like a tide of overwhelming peace. It had been years since the incident, but I could still feel the scars of those nights as though the memories seared into my mind occurred merely a moment before, the pain still raw. No matter how hard I tried to put it aside, the only way I could black out the memories and turn away from the scars was by closing my eyes and listening to the rumble of thunder in my world away from the world; my sanctuary.
By Mir Shajee5 years ago in Families
A Celebration of Life
The blast of air hits you in the face as the aroma of fragrant spices envelops your senses. Immediately it triggers the cascade of memories to flood your brain, and evoke a thousand different emotions all at once. You inadvertently close your eyes to intensify your olfactory senses with the fleeting hope of holding fast to the memories of your youth, but to no avail, as the evanescent experience fades away leaving an empty hunger in the pit of your stomach.
By Mir Shajee5 years ago in Feast
Waters of Gondwana
Long ago, before the world awoke from its silent slumber, there lived only two sacred spirits, earth and water. They coexisted happily amidst the dance of the universe around them, and since before the birth of time itself, there was balance. The spirits understood neither strife nor conflict, and in their harmony, grew the fabric of time. But as is the nature of all things, curiosity would inspire both water and earth to wonder about their genesis.
By Mir Shajee5 years ago in Fiction
Alona
Far beyond the sun-bleached horizon rose a plume of acrid black smoke, darkening the already tarnished midday skies. As I stood on the precipice of the crumbling city overlooking the barren meadow, I reflected on the beauty that Eleuthera was once known for. A sharp pain shot across my chest, like an arrow of emotion, and drew forth the tears I spent the last fifty seven days suppressing. The memories of the final moments of the hundred hour war flashed before my eyes. I grasped tightly the gilded locket that felt like sand between my fingers. The familiar letters etched into the heart shaped medallion were etched even deeper into my mind as I struggled desperately to hold fast to the evanescent memory of the only love I had left towards the end.
By Mir Shajee5 years ago in Fiction
