This is Sherif’s first contribution and was written in response to a writing exercise on an online course. One of the stipulations of the exercise was to use at least six of the following 12 words:
All I wanted was to try on my late brother’s sunglasses, who would never have minded. I asked my mother a lot to give them to me, but she always refused firmly, telling me they were the only memory that remained. As much as I loved him, sometimes I did not. Mother always compared me to him and said she had lost her “only” son, and I would pretend to be him to impress her. Struggles day and night. I would eat a carrot everyday though I hate carrots.
I sneaked at night into her bedroom, searched carefully the wardrobe and got the glasses. In the morning, after she commuted aboard the bus to work, I put them on in the yard. Nature call urged me to the house leaving them on the table. As I came back, a flying crow snatched them and headed east. I chased it in panic towards the filthy swamps outside the village where it let them go. The sunlight reflected on the lenses and I could see them drowning sluggishly in contradiction to my heart beats. In a flash, I saw my mother’s injured tiger rage. I would prefer to be in its cage then. I rolled up my trousers and went in between the dead animals, old appliances and all kinds of trash. I reached for the glasses feeling my legs itching as hell. Now if she saw my clothes, she would explode in anger, but I believe I will figure out a trick. I’m safe, save some blisters on my legs, as the glasses are back in the drawer beside her precious rings.