Zahra Daya

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2020

Stories (22)

22 Stories

1003 karma pts

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“The Toy We Couldn't Roll Over” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #110

Traveling down this road is too much. I know where it ends. The little bumps and crevices and rusty toys left on the road are our fights. The frustration, lies, hurt, anger. Those stupid toys. Our car rolls smoothly over a toy car just now; I only notice it because my eyes are stone-cold, set on the road in front. But we rolled over like it was nothing. Kept going. In hindsight, it was nothing more than a stupid toy. So why can’t he see that? He’ll take me home, I want to think. He’s left you on the road before. That was different, and I kn...

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“Thoughts Kill” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #103

I held in my cough as I entered the bathroom, senses already on high alert. Smoke unfurled around, blinding me for a moment. It took a second to gauge my surroundings, but once I had, it came as no surprise to see my older brother standing in their group. The only boy in here. After all, this was a ladies' bathroom.  I watched in the mirror as the cigarette got passed around. A girl with pouting lips caked in maroon lipstick passed it to my brother. His lazy smile at her and the smoke around were in competition to make me nauseous.&nbsp...

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“Fish Blood” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #89

The words on the textbook page blur into opaque black lines as my eyes fixate on one point. My biology professor’s monotone voice drones on despite my apparent lack of interest.  I morph the black lines into words, ones that have been crafted by me and edited by the very best. I imagine looking over the front cover, seeing my name occupy the bottom. My mind conjures up multiple options for pseudonyms. The plush chair I sit at is the only perpetrator for my drowsiness—not a boring voice. I take solace in the fact that a tall mug of coff...

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“Back To London” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #85

TW: AbuseMeet at Banana Tree for dinner, 7:30, my calendar reads. I inhale as my eyes gloss over the words, my mind already running a million miles an hour. Breathe. Birmingham is far enough away from London that my past there doesn’t clash with my present. I didn’t want to move that far away from London; there are parts of it I love, really, so I ended up here, in banal Birmingham. Nothing to complain about, but all the same, not much to praise. Now, I stand on the train platform at Bayswater station, people hustling and bustling all a...

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“Mommy Comes First” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #84

Shrieks pierce the morning silence, slicing me out of my tranquil dreams and leaving me disoriented in my dimly-lit room. The dream had been good; I remember the warm sand beneath my feet and the cool breeze playing on my face and lifting my hair in its wake. And most of all, the complete silence that had allowed for my thoughts to flow. My reverie is short-lived though as the shrieks perpetuate, forcing me to roll out of bed and drag my feet down the stairs. They feel like pieces of heavy lead stuck to the bottom of my legs and seem to ha...

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“Sincerely, Mama and Papa” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #83

I brush a piece of seaweed from my neck, it grazes my cheek and reluctantly falls, withering back into the depths of the churning sea. The sea spews out more seaweed that clings to my ankles and sends goosebumps down my neck. I close my eyes, trying to block out the events of the past couple of hours. No. I try to force the thoughts out of my fragile mind, but they persist, wiggling through little apertures and bringing an orphic ambiance with it. Chaos. It was complete chaos and the only pocket of peace I held was the kiss on my f...

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“Metal v. Flesh” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #82

Master and Mistress let me out of the car, already starting the ignition before both my feet hit the concrete.  “Hurry,” Mistress calls from the front, her fingers impatiently tapping the dashboard. “Sorry, Mistress.” I scurry out of the car, making sure to balance all five library books in my arms carefully. The tower of books sway precariously, and I wobble, trying to keep them steady. With a thud the books fall to the floor, sending up several mini plumes of dust after it. Master casts a glance back at me, then tells Mistres...

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“The Curl at The Nape of His Neck” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #81

Golden flecks adorn the honey brown of my iris. Only my eyes pierce through it all. I stare into the mirror, at the bright pink concealing my natural, plump lips, at the tight dress, revealing too many curves than I’m comfortable with, at the heavily caked-on makeup, obscuring my soft, blemished skin holding all the memorable scars of my past. I gaze at my now-unrecognizable hair, curled and sprayed into a trending fashion. I wouldn’t realize it was me staring back if it weren’t for the eyes. My eyes pierce through the whole facade, begging ...

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“Soul Connection” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #79

“Hiya” “Hi, may I help you?” “Yes, I lost my room key, are you able to give me a new one?” The sound of bubble gum popping. Then, after a moment’s silence, “Sure, name?” “Elisiana Tugab” The rhythmic tapping of acrylics on an old-fashioned, worn-in keyboard accompanies the usual din of a hotel lobby. The marble floors wink at me, reflecting the light cast by the majestic chandelier up ahead. Only one day here and I already know I will miss it when I leave in a week. Rio De Janeiro has invited me warmly, its city lights serving as a...

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“A Million in One” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #78

The vintage brown of the clay slithers past my hands, leaving a brown trail of residue. I press on the pedal with my foot, applying just a tad more pressure. The wheel spins around faster and I distort the clay with my nimble fingers. I pull it up; now resembling a wand (one that may stick out like a sore thumb if placed in a Harry Potter movie though) and push it back down with my palms.  The trick is to keep steady and be gentle. I’ve been doing ceramics for a month now and I can already feel the boredom in the pit of my stomach, t...

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“Snow of Rubies” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #77

TW: suicide The room spins round and round, getting blurrier by the second as he twirls me around and around. I clutch on tighter, the potential momentum making me feel like he could hurl me into outer space. I shake my head—there’s no reason for why he would want to do that. His hands shift to my waist, both of our socks slipping and sliding on the polished wooden floor of our cabin. A modern cabin maybe—save for the electricity or WiFi. Our phones lay forgotten by the mess of sheets on the floor. He had offered to sleep on the floor last n...

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“When The Weak Cry” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #76

Remnants of phlegm and salty pools of moisture create a path on my forearm as I hurriedly wipe my face with shaky movements. The footsteps increase in volume with each belligerent step. I stare at the shadow beneath my white-washed door. I practice turning up the corners of my mouth, endeavouring to rid myself of this tear-stained face. I should’ve known it was no use.  Aggressively, my door is flung open to reveal a middle-aged man with a protruding beer belly and furrowed eyebrows standing in my doorway. My dad steps in and I try -...

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“Victim of Drug Lords” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #75

Disclaimer: Talk of drug abuse. He clutched onto his mother’s arm tightly and staggered out the sliding panels. His mother seemed to be sighing and kept casting her amber eyes downward, as if embarrassed.  “Jason, I’m telling you that it happened.” “Don’t be daft mother, of course, it didn’t,” he said with a short, almost-nervous chuckle. He stole a sideways glance at his mum, only to be met with lowered eyes. Jason’s dirty blond hair whipped around his ears in the wind. It hadn’t been cut in a while and he desperately needed ...

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“The Crow of Spirit and Longing” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #73

I force the laugh out of my lips, clinging to the hope of it changing everything. It sounds harsh. Cold. Simply wrong. But no. It has to be right. I don’t allow the thought of it being incorrect to reach my brain. Because if it reaches, it will never leave. Like lice amongst hair. I will have to comb through it and even then I may have to cut it all off. No, it's too dangerous. I can’t risk it. I can’t I unwillingly force my head up and out of the hollow of my neck. My eyes meet my own in the mirror. They pierce back at me, black, cold....

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“The Deceivers Among Us” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #70

“Blue did it.”  Sweat glistens on my forehead, threatening to spill down. The slight tremble in my hands is no aid to me. I know that I should speak now to tell them. Tell them that I didn’t do it. The fact remains that the bloody knife lays at my feet next to the body. Pink’s body.  The blood glistens eerily back at me as it drips off the blade and stains the floor.  If only I knew. All I remember is a blinding flash of white - but white had been hurled out already. My eyes dart around the circle of crewmates, endeavorin...

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