Sarazeen Saif Ahana

These are books that invite you to pause over a line, to linger in a paragraph, to lose yourself not in spectacle but in rhythm

Long, long ago, when the world was younger, wiser, softer, when the animals were braver and the people were gentler, when art lived and music sailed, and the skies were a true, honest blue, there lived a man who loved a woman, and they lived in a little house they loved very much. How they met o

I know my engine is dying. I know that, by the time the next Eid rolls around, the busy little humans will have taken me apart to create something new.

Bolstered, the six little mice lead their army up–up–up the trunk of the poor, ravaged oak they were so desperate to save. 

I was a Twilight girl.

Feeling guilty about something? After reading this story, you might think you feel guilty, but you'll never be quite sure if it's guilt or if your heart is just going to explode from sheer terror.

This is the third and final part of “Storm Child”, serialised here on Star Literature

You must have heard the story of your birth a thousand times by now, sweetheart. Your mother and I—home alone.