Exoquilt in Love
A mixed feeling amidst excitement, quitting, and/or guilt.
It was Covid time. The world was quiet and empty. But amid fear and horror of life and death. She gave her heart to someone unknown yet so kind, who wanted to know her equally. They confessed their love, thinking the world would end with them, wrapped in the truest of truth and purest of pure love. But the world recovered from Covid. Life went back to normal. He got serious about her, and she remained crazy about him. He introduced her to his Catholic family in Milan city, somewhere near the Alps, where snow and mist dance. She was from Kabul and a Muslim. Recently, she had lost a country and wanted to belong somewhere, where her heart felt at home.
The time had come. Her displaced family moved to America. Joyously yet hesitantly, she reclaimed her sense of home. She tried to take the charge in her own hand and introduced him to her family. Words over words felt like mountains of unmoved rocks. Her father asked about his name. Her mother wanted to know his religion. Brother was keen about his intentions. Sister wanted to be her bridesmaid. The world felt black and white, thin and thick, raw and cooked. Father insisted on changing his name. Mother wanted to hide his religion. Brother started singing wedding songs. Sister already bought her dress. But all that she remained with was a strange feeling: exoquilt in the totality of love. A little excitement, a little quitting, a little guilt, in the universe of her love.
About the Creator
Parwana Fayyaz
I am an Afghan writer. Forty Names, my first collection of poetry, was published in 2021 and named a New Statesman Book of the Year and a White Review Book of the Year. I also translate both poetry and fiction from Persian into English.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from Parwana Fayyaz and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Maceen and Al-khatoo . Second Place in the Under a Spell Challenge.
Antar bantar, goft or daftar, choof, choof. The old lady said for the last time under her ‘second tongue,’ as the people of the town would say, so no one could hear her. The baby disappeared from her gahwara crib. “Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I warn you all? Not to give her milk and honey. She is al-khatoo. She is the one and only alive otherworldly old woman, deceiving death…” Maceen kept screaming. But no one seemed to listen or mind her. Hunger and thirst had spread in the entire country by now. People cared more about food and water than their babies. “If you think, you have sacrificed her for this year’s harvest, you are wrong. Al-khatoo cannot do anything with God’s misery set upon us. She cannot bring us prosperity. She only takes it.” Still, nobody was listening to Maceen. The crowd now started dispersing. The twilight had disappeared somewhere in the darkness. The late autumn air felt cold around the village mountains. Only a few thoughtful parents locked their young kids in their empty tableee khana, where their livestock once used to spend evenings so that the insane members of the village do not snatch their babies at night to deliver them to Al-khatoo.
By Parwana Fayyaz8 months ago in Fiction
The Spring
The sun was high when Lance pulled off the road and into the dusty lot of the service station. The sign back at the hairpin--the first sign in a long time--said they just rolled into Hatter’s Creek, Population 63. It was small enough it didn’t appear on the handmap in Shelby’s lap, yet here it stood, the first backwater township on the fringes of the National Park. The plan was to gas up, restock the snack bag, and press on into the wilderness.
By Zack Graham6 days ago in Fiction
Shadow of Love
Shadows Behind the Window (Continued) Months turned into years, and Aisha's novel, titled *Shadows Behind the Window*, became a bestseller. Her gripping tale of love, betrayal, and mystery captivated readers worldwide. Despite her literary success, Aisha still carried the scars of her past, though she found solace in her writing.
By layali mumtaz8 days ago in Fiction
All Hail King Trump
BOISE — In a move that has political scientists reaching for the whiskey bottle, Idaho has officially declared itself Trump’s Personal Playground following the Supreme Court’s ruling that presidents are above the law, common sense, and basic human decency.
By Gael MacLeana day ago in Humor
Comments (3)
Ugh, my heart. I'm hoping it was a happy ending for the couple. This word is such a mood, like how often do we find ourselves with mixed emotions and not knowing what to call it? There's ambiguity, but that makes me think that the person is left unresolved. There's muddled, but, again, it makes me feel they don't know how to sort out the feelings warring inside them. Neither captures the essence of feeling many things at once yet still be content.
Great job! Keep up the fantastic work—congratulations!
I couldn't stop reading. Your writing was really well done!