Zeenat Iqbal Hussain's Profile

Winner (Short Story) - July, 2024

The Final Plunge! (2nd Position- 6th International Writing Competition) by Zeenat Iqbal Hussain - Pakistan

The morning rays of the sun filter through the glass in the cell at Alcatraz; this is the only connection with the outside world. As Joseph, who is serving a death sentence, basks in the rays, he hears a shriek from a cell down the corridor. The sound is familiar. It is from an inmate who is mentally deranged. The attendant serves him breakfast consisting of dried toast and tea. With a wicked look on his face he tells Joseph, “eat up, you are lucky to get this”. Everybody in Alcatraz is wicked, thinks Joseph.

?The time for menial labour nears, but he has already ‘burnt’ his breakfast, so he prepares to work on an empty stomach. The warden opens his cell and leads him to where he will be breaking stones with a pick. The warden tells a young boy, “The more hours you put into your work, the shorter the time of your sentence shall be.” Joseph’s eye focuses on the boy. What could his crime be? He had stolen some goods from a grocer’s at gunpoint. The grocer had tried to stop him and the gun that the boy fired in panic had hit him. The boy was given a lawyer, who had lost the case to the grocer.

?Joseph’s son must be of the same age. His thoughts wander back to the times when he used to perch his son on the bicycle to drop him to school. “Come on son, we will stop on the way and you can buy yourself a chocolate.” He loved his children. He also had a daughter. His daughter loved to listen to the stories that he would tell. She sat on his lap, with her gaze fixed on him, devouring every word of the story, he uttered. As he reflected on the past, he felt his heart sink. But did it sink? The prison had really hardened him; hardened a man who was capable of being passionate about life, and how did this come about?

 

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Selected Poem - May, 2024

No More Tears! by Zeenat Iqbal Hussain - Pakistan

As you leave for greener pastures,

Tears flow down the cheeks at your departure.

The migrating bird flutters its wing,

Over for it is the season to sing...

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