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Aya Mahmoud

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2024

Stories (4)

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1 Followers

3 Following

4 Stories

26 karma pts

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Forgive Me

Aya Mahmoud

“Forgive me”Cold sweat started engulfing me, drenching me in dread I avoid like the plague. There is no escaping this, it had to be said, and even if he wouldn’t say anything, wouldn’t engage, wouldn’t forgive me, wouldn’t change… I thought that I owed him at least that, some truth and honesty for sticking with me all these years, for staying besides me in times when I was repulsive…“I can’t do it anymore, no I cannot, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I tried everything, I am nothing you are looking for, I am nothing you want me to be, you gave me e...

0 likes

Nature's Orphan

Aya Mahmoud

Submitted to Contest #291

“Burn that wretched woman!” Chants, howls, screams and whistles erupted just as the pale white girl was dragged bound by her hands, with her bare legs dragged behind her, her cotton white nightgown, now painted with shades of black and brown from soot and dirt, dragged behind her. Her albino features, with white hair, purple blue eyes, and translucent milky skin, along with her nightgown made her look like tragic ghost or a lost angel that by some twisted fate, fell into the claws of monsters. However, her curse and salvation is the fact tha...

14 likes

Silly Shivers

Aya Mahmoud

Globophobia… That is what I am stuck with. Many people have enough dignity to develop phobias of things that make sense to fear, like fear of darkness, high places, blood, closed spaces, and even oceans… all valid and acknowledged irrational fears that a person could understand a meltdown over if it happened. Not me though, I have globophobia, which, for those fortunate enough not to have it, is the fear of balloons. Those inflated squeaky time sound bombs had me running in a different direction the second I encountered one. When I was ...

1 like

Her Muse and Misery

Aya Mahmoud

Kira allowed her eyes once more to sweep over the oil-painted canvases, feeling… feeling what exactly? Numb, that’s how she could describe it, and how it has been for a while now. Broken glass threatening to break through the confines of the drawing, a bloodied bat about to swing out of the canvas, a black raven over the cast of a broken arm, and 15 other paintings seem so distant now, like the works of a stranger that she no longer can recognize. She fought with the urge to do something about it, the urge to bring back the force that made h...

1 like