Fictions by Ima.

The trip was long,  very long and her feet were swollen because she had sat for too long. Looking at them, she was glad she wore a pair of slippers because her feet looked like they had air blown into them. She didn't regret the distance, she knew why she had travelled out in the first place; she wanted to go as far away from her dad as she could. When she finally got into the town, she first wanted to go back home, just to see the old place before heading out to the hospital. When she got there, the smell in the air brought back all sorts of memories. The nostalgic feeling followed her into the house which was unlocked. Nothing much had changed, nothing at all. The chairs were still there, the lamp stands too, everything was where it had been twelve years ago. It's like he didn't move a thing. She walked into the kitchen and the smell of her mother's cooking was everywhere. Her mother? Was she here or is she hallucinating? But then again, she recalled the night h...

While in the state of despair, she recalled that she had gotten a letter earlier. As a result of her work schedule, she hadn't had the time to read the letter until now. She wasn't sure whether to be happy about the news in the letter or to be sad. She knew that her new nature wasn't to accommodate any feeling of hatred but something inside her was a little bit happy that his end was near. If he died it seemed all her problems would go with him,  all her fears, her sorrow, her low self-esteem, all the baggage she had been lounging on her shoulder- a burden no one else but she knew about. She was crying again. She had gotten used to crying, it had been her companion all her life and that's why there was a box of tissue at every turn in her little home. Later at night, she struggled to fall asleep but sleep just wouldn't come. And why was she sweating? Why was she troubled? Her thoughts trailed back to the letter. What was it about the letter? Maybe she should go s...

There was something about the voice on the radio but she was finding it really hard to place her finger on it. The voice sounded really familiar to her and as she paced back and forth in her kitchen it hit her. She now remembered the voice. How could she forget? It was the same voice on the same radio station that she heard twelve years ago that changed her life. You see,  he was a preacher of Christ's gospel and this same voice led her to Christ twelve years ago. It wasn't her conversion that she remembered now, it was the days before that, the years before that. Hana's father was a remarkable man, neat and full of integrity or so the people who didn't know him closely said. Hana knew differently, she knew him more than anyone else. The tremors were back in her fingers as she travelled down memory lane. He always had that effect on her. He was the reason she ran away, he was the reason she could not have one meaningful relationship with another man all these thi...