Part 1
Memoir | Saintly Matriarchs | Part I of VI
In my formative years, I witnessed the awe-inspiring sight of the saintly matriarchs in the projects gathering for Friday night prayer services at Sister Ella’s house. This spectacle left a profound impact on me and ultimately led to my decision to embrace Christianity at the age of 26.
By Mia Z. Edwardsabout a year ago in Chapters
Memoir | The Housing Projects | Part I of VI
The Whispers Whispers of doubt echo through the streets of Washington, District of Columbia (D.C.), casting skepticism on whether anything positive can emerge from the section of the city Southeast (S.E.), the urban housing projects predominantly populated by low-income African Americans, which is often underestimated and overlooked. These speculations, though harsh, persisted. Like the biblical scripture that questions the possibility of anything good coming out of the City of Nazareth, the response to these doubts is an invitation to witness the truth for oneself. Just as Nazareth was deemed a place from which nothing good could emerge, the Southeast section of the city in Washington, DC faced similar misconceptions.
By Mia Z. Edwardsabout a year ago in Chapters
Not That Woman
I was always enamored by Mary Kay ladies and the women at church potlucks. They were always pressed and perfumed, powdered and primped- like Lucy & Desi’s neighbors had walked out of the screen. Even then, they were a bit old-fashioned. But that Doris Day, Barbie aesthetic was powerful. It was reinforced by the Girl Scout Den Mother, who smelled like Aqua Net and Pine-Sol. The tidiest, prettiest ladies were the most listened to. They could walk for days in high heels and A-line skirts, then wash dishes in frilly aprons without breaking stride.
By Danielle Katsourosabout a year ago in Chapters
Wulfwyn’s Blōdbōc (Part 1). Content Warning.
I stole this book when I realised I would long outlive my memories. For decades, I had only scraps - parchments, loose papers, even the backs of market receipts - bundled together with string, fading as quickly as the ink itself. At first, it seemed enough. But it soon became clear I would need something more permanent. A true record. A proof that I had once been more than the monster I have become.
By Stace Oddityabout a year ago in Chapters
Podunk
I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. I wanted to lie on my side, knees curled up in the fetal position, and watch made-for-TV movies with the bedroom lit up through the blinds. My body wanted the rest, but my brain fought suffocating thoughts, so I went for a walk.
By Jeremiah Gardnerabout a year ago in Chapters
MY CRUEL LOVE, CHAPTER 3
My Cruel Love That same night, with her mind still reeling from the club owner's words, Maya stood before the towering gates of the Shahriyar estate.. Maya stepped out of the local taxi. and stood before the towering iron gate of the Shahriyar estate. This was the house she was meant to enter as a bride. Instead, she was arriving as something else — a woman bought and delivered. After the wedding, Arman had never brought her here. The ceremony had taken place at her father's modest home. He had uttered the words "I accept" and vanished. Just like that. He went straight back to his upscale flat and left a final warning — if she ever stepped foot in his family home, he'd leave the country and never return. Arman's mother, unwilling to risk losing her only son, had left Maya at her father's doorstep. Maya had been devastated, but she had held herself together. For her father. He was all she had left in this world. Now, standing at the entrance of a home that had once symbolized a dream, she called out to the guard. When he asked who she was, she hesitated. What could she say? After a pause, she finally managed, "Mr. Arman asked me to come. He wants to talk. The guard made a call, and after a brief exchange with the housemaid, the gate opened. Maya walked in. The sight before her was surreal — like something from a movie. A royal-style duplex mansion bathed in warm lights, surrounded by a manicured garden and stone pathways leading in different directions. In the center, a marble fountain sparkled under the night sky. The garden trees were strung with fairy lights, lighting up the night like daylight. For a moment, Maya forgot why she was here. As she neared the main door, the weight of reality returned. Her fingers trembled as she pressed the bell. Inside, Arman sat on a plush sofa in his bedroom, head tilted back, eyes shut, one hand resting on his forehead. His thoughts were a chaotic mess. After leaving the club, he'd gone to his office but couldn't focus. Maya's voice kept echoing in his mind. Her words. her attitude. the way she said she'd moved on. He couldn't believe it. The same woman who had returned his money and handed him divorce papers — was now selling herself? Willingly? He knew she hadn't been with anyone before. The bloodstains on the bed told him everything. And yet, she had lied — claimed she wasn't a virgin. Why? Why would she make herself look cheap in his eyes? Restless and furious, he'd made a call. One call to the club owner, and he'd bought Maya. For a month. She should be arriving any minute now. Arman leaned back, annoyed with himself. Why had he done this? Why had he dragged her back into his life? This wasn't about love anymore. Or was it? He tried to clear his head. He had divorced Maya for one reason: Maisha. His first and only love. The woman who had vanished without a trace. Where was she? Was she even alive? He shook the thought away. No — she had to be alive. He'd find her. One day. A knock broke his chain of thought. "Come in," he said. Ruby, his personal maid, entered. She was in her mid-twenties and took care of everything in the house — cooking, laundry, cleaning. Everything. "Sir, the girl you were expecting has arrived," she said politely. Arman didn't need to ask who. He nodded. "Send her to my room. And if I need anything, I'll call. "Yes, sir. Ruby left, and moments later, another knock came. This time, it was Maya. "Come in," Arman said. She stepped in slowly. Her eyes immediately found him sitting there, calm and cold. Arman didn't look at her. "So. you finally made it. Took your sweet time. Maya gave him a crooked smile. Well, according to my manager, you rented me for a full month, Mr. Arman Shahriyar. I didn't realize my services were that impressive. Because of you, my other clients were disappointed tonight. I had someone else scheduled, actually. Got ready and everything. But when I reached the club, they said I had to come to you. So. here I am. Every word was a calculated jab. Arman stood up, clenching his fists, scanning her from head to toe. "This is what you wore for someone else?" he asked, voice laced with sarcasm. "She was dressed modestly — in ethnic wear, her hair partially covered with a long scarf. "I was going to change at the hotel," she said, stammering slightly. "You can't walk around in a sexy outfit on the street. Arman let out a dry laugh. "So, you're ashamed of the job, but not ashamed to sell yourself? And still have the decency to care about public decency? That's rich. Maya's heart twisted, but she didn't flinch. "Let's just get this over with, shall we? I'd like to finish what I'm here for and leave. Arman's eyes darkened. "You're in such a rush? Fine. Make me dinner. And I want it from you — not a maid. And I don't want a maid touching it. I want you to cook it. With your own hands. Maya blinked, stunned. "I'm sorry — what did you just say? "You heard me," Arman said, stepping closer. "I said cook. Maya frowned. "Do I look like your maid? That's not what I was brought here for. You know exactly why I'm here — and it's not to be your personal chef. Arman leaned in, his voice dangerously soft, brushing past her ear." I've paid for your time. For one month. From now on, you're mine — and mine alone. Your job is to satisfy me. In every way. You'll do exactly as I say. No questions. No attitude. No other men. Got it? Maya stepped back, chilled to her core. "Yes, Yes, you paid for my time—but not to be your servant. We both know what this deal was supposed to be. The rest? That's not in the deal. Arman raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you read the contract before signing? It clearly says — for thirty days, you follow all my instructions. Whether it's cooking, cleaning, or anything else — you do it. Maya's face twisted in confusion. "What contract? I didn't see anything like that. "Really?" he challenged. "Didn't your boss give you a file before you left the club? Didn't he ask you to sign it? And just like that — the memory came crashing back. Before she left the lounge, her manager had stopped her. Handed her a document and said it was just routine paperwork for all employees. Without thinking much, she had signed it. He had also given her a file to deliver to Arman. She quickly reached into her bag and pulled it out. There it was. A legal-looking contract — signed by her. As her eyes scanned the terms, her entire world crumbled. To be continued.
By Story writesabout a year ago in Chapters
MY CRUEL LOVE,CHAPTER 2
My Cruel Love That same night, after Maya agreed to Arman's cruel deal, He kissed her with a brutal hunger, leaving her lips torn. It wasn't passion—it was punishment. A cruel release of the rage he had bottled up inside him. But Maya didn't fight it. She just. took it. Silent. Still. Broken. What followed was primitive, carnal—but completely loveless. Just Arman's fury, unleashed on her like poison, draining what little strength she had left. And still, Maya smiled. She bore it all without flinching, hiding her agony behind a practiced calm. Arman stayed the entire night. Morning. Arman stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp, shirt buttoned, face emotionless. Maya went in next and locked the door. As soon as she turned the tap, the tears began. Hot. Heavy. Endless. Covering her mouth with one hand, she sobbed quietly under the running water. Red and blue bruises lined her skin—proof of Arman's cruelty. Her body ached. But her heart. that hurt more. When she finally emerged, her pain still radiated from her fragile frame. Arman was already dressed, ready to leave. Without a word, he pulled a check from his coat pocket and tossed it at her. "Here," he said, tossing a check without emotion. "For your time. Maya bent down and picked up the check. Not a flicker of shame. Only a bitter smile as she read the amount. She looked up and said softly, "Thank you, sir. I hope the performance was satisfactory—just like any business transaction. Feel free to call again. Arman's jaw clenched. He stormed toward her, grabbed her hair, and yanked her close. She gasped but didn't resist. His eyes burned into hers. "Never," he spat. "Arman Shahriar doesn't sleep with the same woman twice. Feigning mild disappointment, Maya shrugged. "Oh, really? "I suppose I'll just take on someone else. This city never runs out of men with money and egos. Anyway, I have an appointment tonight. Need to shop, dress up, be ready. So if you'll excuse me. Clutching the check, she walked out with a toss of her hair. Arman stood there, stunned. Another appointment tonight? His chest tightened. A wave of unfamiliar rage surged through him. She can sleep with the whole damn city for all I care, he told himself. What is she to me? And with that thought, he walked out. Later. At the hospital. Maya's phone had blown up with missed calls. She rushed in and entered a doctor's cabin. "There you are!" the doctor exclaimed. "We've been calling all night. Why didn't you answer? "I'm so sorry," Maya said, trying to catch her breath. "I was.caught up. How is he? The doctor's face turned somber. "He got worse last night. He kept asking for you. That's why we tried so many times. Maya's heart sank. "How is he now?" she whispered. "He's stable. For now. Chemotherapy has started, but. it's the final stage. We're trying a new treatment, but the odds—frankly—aren't good. Are you sure you want to keep spending so much money? Maya's eyes filled with tears. "What are you saying, doctor? He's my whole world. I can't lose him—not yet. The doctor nodded gently. "Then be strong. We've started the chemo. Please make sure the bills are cleared—the meds are very expensive. "I'll manage," Maya said softly. "Just keep the treatment going." She entered the hospital ward quietly. The man on the bed looked like a shadow of his former self—skin stretched thin over bones, most of his hair gone, breath shallow. Her father. Maya smiled through her heartbreak and sat beside him. When he saw her, his eyes lit up. His frail hand trembled as he reached out to her. "Dad" Maya whispered, taking his hand. "How are you feeling? I spoke to the doctor—he says you'll be up and dancing again soon. Just wait. Ashraf Talukder knew better. He wasn't afraid of dying. He was afraid for her. She was his daughter—his only one. Beautiful. Pure. And alone. He remembered how their families had once planned her marriage with Arman Shahriar, a childhood pact between two old friends. The wedding had happened, but Arman had never accepted her. He'd refused to even take her home. Arman's grandfather had believed Maya was the only woman who could handle him. But after his death, Arman shut her out completely. Back in the ward, Ashraf looked at his daughter and said weakly, "Don't give me false hope, sweet girl. I know what's coming. I'm not afraid of death—I'm afraid for you. This hospital. it's expensive. How are you affording this? "Dad, please." Maya interrupted quickly. "Don't say things like that. You'll recover. The doctor said the treatment's working. He pressed again, "Maya. where's this money coming from? You're not doing anything wrong, are you? Before he could finish, Maya said with a smile, "No, dad. I got a job. A multinational. Took a loan. Everything's legal. I promise. Ashraf frowned slightly, but Maya held his hand tighter. "You know how much I love you, right? I won't let anything happen to you. He stroked her hair gently. As she sat beside him, Maya's heart bled silently. Her mother had died when she was little. Her marriage had shattered. Now her father was the only person she had left. And even he was slipping away. She thought to herself: "I'm sorry, dad. I wish I could tell you the truth. But I can't. To keep you alive, I've crossed lines I never thought I would. I may not recognize myself anymore. But I can't watch you die. Please forgive me. That night. After feeding her father and giving him his medicine, Maya returned home. She popped a painkiller—her body still ached from Arman's cruelty. She forced herself to eat a little, then collapsed into bed, stifling a cry as pain rippled through her. Later, she arrived at the club. The owner called her over immediately. "Maya! Just in time. I sent you an address—check your phone. You've got a new client tonight. She checked. Her eyes widened. "Shahriar Mansion? The owner grinned. "Yep. What Arman told himself was simple: "She's a liar. A player. But I won't let her go that easy—not until I break her mask." So he made the call. Booked her—for a month. Looks like luck's finally on your side, Maya. Maya froze. A whole month. with Arman? She whispered, "Sir. a whole month? Isn't that.too much? He scoffed. "Too much? Girls line up for offers like this! You should be thankful. I've already taken the advance. You're going. Maya nodded silently. She had no choice. The money was too important. I don't know what more fate has in store for me, she thought bitterly. To be continued
By Story writesabout a year ago in Chapters
Maggie Goes Into Town. Content Warning.
Today was the day that Maggie would stop moping around the cottage, she’d told herself. She’s also told herself that yesterday and the day before. But yesterday the clouds looked a little concerning and it was hard to predict what they might do while she was out so she decided to play it safe and stay home. Again. And the day before her leg was acting up and she was concerned that she might get tired while she was out and didn’t want to risk that.
By Celia Olsonabout a year ago in Chapters
“The Room with No Name”
She walked into the room like a question begging to be answered. Barefoot, half-robed, skin tasting of lavender and doubt. Her name was Elizabeth — soft lips, storm eyes, and a tension in her step that betrayed everything she tried to hide.
By Randolphe Tanoguemabout a year ago in Chapters
