General

As the moon rose, the graveyard of my ancestors transformed. The translucent light breathed life into the worn, faceless statues of praying children and winged angels. It smoothed away fissures and softened broken edges. In the moonlight, the crooked headstones stood proud, keeping to their duty even as time wore away the messages they bore. I walked through the tangled weeds until I reached the back gate and an empty plot. This space, beneath the bower of an old oak, was my own. How odd to stand here in the dewy grass, knowing someday I would not leave it.

By OSAMA HASSAN, May 1, 2014.
General

It was as if the playground had been taken away at dusk and replaced with something sinister. As the colors drained away the swings became a gallows. There was no sound other than the crickets, no bird song or baying dogs. Every rustle of the leaves foretold of danger, and even the sound of a twig snap beneath my feet made my pulse thump in my ears.

By chun, October 17, 2014.