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Md Monir109
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In eighth grade, I wore tons of make-up to Catholic school. I was a rebel. Trying to hide my outbreaks, I covered them with a layer of Clearasil beneath my beige foundation and powder. But it wasn’t just about my bad complexion. Oh no. I wanted to look like a movie star, like Elizabeth Taylor or Sophia Loren. I penciled in my eyebrows with black eyebrow pencil, jet-black eyeliner thickly lining my eyes, and I topped it all off with jade green eye-shadow that came in a long tube something like a lipstick. My mouth I left blank. This made my eyes stand out more. The fact that we weren’t allowed to wear make-up to school created all this excitement in me, and one day when Sister Theonilla was walking down the aisle in her long black robe, her wire-rim glasses perched on her nose and her skin the color of oatmeal, she stopped at my desk, moved in closer and slowly ran her index finger across my eyelid. The tip of her finger came back green. “I’m not wearing make-up,” I said defiantly. Oh, the thrill of it. This was the beginning of my long career as a liar.
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Confusion and chaos lifted. All was still and clear in his mind. Only hours earlier he was filled with misery, self-loathing and desperation. But now the lycanthropic curse had taken control, freed from its chains and eager to make up for lost time. Jagged claws easily removed the clothes from his body. He would have no more use for them. He had emerged beside a small, shallow river which was painted silver under the clear sky. It was cold, the dead of winter, and his breath misted before his eyes. The weather did not bother him. This body was made for endurance. His long, wiry limbs held easy strength. He felt a buzzing run through his whole body. An electrically charged energy that needed to be unleashed. His magnified senses announced the presence of all living creatures within running distance. None could defy him, none could oppose him. All would flee before him. But it would make no difference. This night would be coloured in blood. He threw back his head and let out a howl of hysteria, elation and fervour. The night belonged to him. The full moon was risen and the chase was on.
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We buried my brother with his dreams. On colored scraps of paper my young son, Teddy, and I scrawled all the fantasies Abe never achieved for lack of trying: hero, quarterback, singer, actor and more and crammed them in the satin folds of his coffin along with his favorite bottle of Jack and a pack of Camels. Teddy, a budding artist, sketched Abe throwing a football. “Can you imagine Uncle Abe throwing long on a cloud?” Teddy asked as he gingerly dropped in the drawing. “Might piss off the angels if he gets too rowdy,” I shrugged. “Same goes for showing off his bravery or acting like he’s better than all the other souls.” “Everyone sings in heaven. He can sing, huh?” Teddy pressed. “Not off-key. God has sensitive ears.” “So, Uncle Abe doesn’t get to live his dreams after all? That sucks,” Teddy gathered his crayons and paper, sat on the floor of the funeral parlor and begin drawing in earnest. “What the hell are you doing, Teddy?” Teddy put a finishing flourish on a portrait of himself painting. “Going for my dreams while I can just in case I run out of time and end up in heaven.”
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The Magic Hole Penny was a little girl who lived in Alaska. It was ice-cold there. She kept praying that she could play in the lush, green and warm gardens like we do but of course, she couldn't. Her father, like all the men there, didn't have a job. He hunted seals and caught fishes as was the custom. So her father hadn't even heard of money and even if he had money, there weren't any aeroplane to take them abroad. Now, somewhere near Penny's house was a deep, dark forest. Everyone was afraid to enter it. They said that whoever entered it would be sucked in by a great hole. One day, Penny was playing with her Eskimo friends when one of the boys shouted, "Hey, I dare one of you to enter the magic forest." No one dared. Penny picked up a twig and threw it at the edge of the forest. Nothing happened. Penny was astonished. It's all a legend! We can play hide and seek in the woods if we want, she thought. She walked slowly towards the woods. It was getting colder and colder she took each step. She walked right into the middle of the forest
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𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀!🖤🌸 —🤫জীবন মানেই অপূর্ণতার গল্প!🖤😇
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