Home by Bader A. Shehab

I am not sure if it was the carrot stew or the parsley diced thinly over the potatoes… Maybe it was that sprinkle of sea salt I saw him apply swiftly and with skillful hands. The cucumber melting into the olives as it swims in the streams of freshly squeezed organic tomatoes. In a shallow pool of lava emanating from the oven flamed potato stuffed with vine leaves; my God, was I in heaven from the first bite!  Continue reading

Home by Menasi

Prologue: this is the journey of a soldier in the army, suffering from PTSD, and not willing to open up to even family members. This was written following the Uri attacks, in which 18 Indian soldiers died.

Dear Aditi,

How are you doing? I’m fine. Well, a bit exhausted. Missing your dal, the rations they give us aren’t that great. Black rajma beans and rice that has lost its flavor after being packaged, with poppadoms adding a crunch of excitement from time to time. I saw the photo you sent, of Neha in the school play. Tell her she makes a beautiful butterfly, and daddy will take her and fly her over the boardwalk soon! Ah, not now though. My muscles ache from the rigorous training we are subject to. Puts our honorable countrymen into perspective, ha?  Continue reading

Home by Fatma Al Shehab

“To love me is to love a haunted house; it’s fun to visit once a year, but no one wants to live there.”
The first time you approached me, your incessant pounding on my front door frightened me because nothing good ever comes from an unwanted visitor.
But you slept on my doorstep and one day when the rain was coming down tremendously hard, I decided to invite you in.
You didn’t mind that my floorboards were creaky and you never winced even once at the cobwebs covering the majority of my ceiling.
I knew because I was watching.  Continue reading