Prologue

The sight of body after body streaming down from hundreds of conveyor belts all over the country as they enter the processor, then flowing into and filling giant tubes of the centrifuge for organelle purification has been nothing less than a nightmare. As a distinguished O.R.E. inspector with the highest level of clearance unknown to the public, I’ve had to visit and become part of various projects on black sites all over the continent. The numbing and constant desensitization is the least disturbing aspect of my job. After we turn on the centrifuge, we separate pieces of the organelles into fragments; the purified remains are used as samples for genetic splicing- -for the elites- -while the rest is for the creation of clean chemical energy C.C.E., which is the crucial component to the public as organic renewable energy or so-called, O.R.E.

A little over 250 years ago, around the 2050s' the world was divided into 195 countries, and their leaders and policies governed each. At the time, there were world superpowers: The United States of America, located in North America, Russia, and China were both located in Asia; they were the top three countries with a formidable military, economy, international alliances, and political influence. Other honorable mentions, such as Germany and The United Kingdom, are still around today and continue to reside in Europe. As you know today, six continents with countries within their borders still exist, but after the last World War, not many countries had much of a choice; they had to align themselves with one of the five superpowers. Most countries chose to side with the United States or China, some sided with Russia, and the remainder either went neutral or found themselves part of Germany or The United Kingdom.

As of today, in 2301, only one world government controls the world. The UN disbanded, and then a year later, Russia and China cyberattacked the United States, knocking out the entire power grid. Washington D.C. was the first location to get its power back up and running, and then the tech giants in San Francisco managed to be the first city. The top tech companies rebuilt and fortified every military, bank, and government firewall nationwide. Working on powering and protecting New York City was crucial due to the Stock Market plummeting. Individuals and companies lost so much money, and those who didn’t have cash were hopeless. The banks had no control or access to facilitate any form of business. Credit and Debit cards held no value anymore, plastic mementos with random numbers that used to mean something.

By the time the Stock Market was fully functional, which took 33 days, almost 10 million people committed suicide after 14 days, then another 40 million by the 30th day; in total, a little over 50 million people took their own lives. In Chicago and Los Angeles, grocery stores were raided, mass shootings skyrocketed, and homes/apartments were burned to ashes after the cash, food, and weapons were stolen. Several citizens in the cities throughout the country followed suit, and almost 100 million people fell victim to heinous crimes; at least 70 million people were killed before the military became involved. The police did as much as they could, but with their reputation in the eyes of the public tarnished, the amount of respect and authority dwindled after a couple of weeks.

Almost half of the United States population was decimated before the terrorist attacks on American soil. The country was in shambles, cities were burning, and the streets were littered with debris and the bodies of innocent victims. Unfortunately for China and Russia, the Allies joined forces. The alliance, which was formed during World War II emerged once again, but this time, they came in to assist and save the United States. The previous allied countries, the United Kingdom and France came together with Germany and Japan, the former Axis powers. Germany and Japan replaced Russia and China in this War and vice versa. Japan had boots on the ground in China 54 days after the cyberattacks, taking over the island of Hainan and then destroying a significant amount of their navy in Zhanjiang. As the Japanese continued their strike, the French, British, and Israeli Air Forces flew into Belarus and bombed their military bases out of existence. This is where Germany would take their tanks, artillery, and infantry into Ukraine as they made their way to Moscow. The Ukrainian Army gave as much help as possible even after the war with Russia. At the same time, the Polish armed forces sent their troops into Belarus to prevent any aid or communications with the Russian Military.

Once Belarus was out of play, the German and Ukrainian Forces began their march into Moscow. As they fought and gained ground,  making their way into the Capital, The British and the French Air Force got more reinforcements, ammo, and fuel in Belarus. After Poland had taken control, they helped clear the way for the German and Ukrainian infantry. Moscow was under the control of the Allies within days. Japan was doing everything it could to keep control of both naval bases, but they were fighting a losing battle. As they were retreating to regroup, then sending in a second wave to finish the job, Tawaiin’s navy showed up, giving the Japanese forces a massive boost in morale to propel them to take control over both Hainan and Zhanjiang, crippling China’s Naval Forces.

From that point forward, all the Allies needed was time and patience after a couple of years of fighting against the Axis powers. They were overwhelmed, and eventually, the confiscation of nuclear weapons gave their leaders nothing to threaten the world with; a treaty between the Allies and Axis powers was agreed upon and signed with several conditions, which took over 30 days to finalize. It seemed like for a few years, the world held its breath, waiting for the same countries to revolt and abandon the terms and conditions of the treaty, but for the next century, everything stayed the same. The world will always need opposition if there is only peace and no war. We will be left with nothing if there is only war and no peace. A balance, one way or another, must be sought and protected at all costs.

As the years passed, A.I. had taken over the world completely, but not in the way we all thought. Some robots became sentient, while others were confined by the strict boundaries that lie within their coding. As a species, we thrived even more than anyone could have imagined. Many of us, possibly the entire human race, had their bets on AI destroying and siphoning our lives from us for their benefit or vindication. Don’t get me wrong, several years were stained by the blood of men, women, children, and the essence of sentient beings, but in the end, the AI and humans created a symbiotic relationship that saved Earth and everything that had life from within. As more time passed, our civilization grew to a point where the world needed one governing body, one with humans and AI as one, making everything under the sun, shine as bright as the stars above when it sets.

A century has passed, and with the evergrowing success of our world government, EROS, we’ve performed what people a few hundred years ago would call miracles. Our civilization has colonized the Moon and reached undiscovered planets near the edges of the Milky Way and distant planets we could only see through telescopes of the highest caliber. Advanced forms of energy do not take and destroy the life filling our ecosystems but provide them with the resistance to elements that once plagued them. The life expectancy of humans has risen to almost 150 years of age. Diseases come and go because cures and treatments are so advanced that the deadliest illnesses and pandemics haven’t existed since the late 21st century. Hunger, the starving of nations and their people has almost vanished entirely. Technology flourishes like a plant that has control over the sun and provides its own warmth, waters that feed the soil where it grows, and the earth where the roots dig into building a foundation strong enough never to perish.

She transfers to a new boarding school, and is met with silence.

(Sry if I take long uploading chapters 🫠🥲)

Hi! I just felt like writing these. These are not ordered like a story. Each poem carries a different story. Some might seem to relate. This is just a random assortment of my poems. Whenever I get a new idea I'll keep writing it. If you like these then do comment your feedback.

After a misunderstanding with her boyfriend, Summer falls asleep with a heavy heart—only to wake up in the year 1770. Gone are the city lights and noise; in their place is a quiet village… and Dominador, a mysterious man with kind eyes and a calming presence.

As Summer navigates this strange world, she begins to question what’s real: the past she’s fallen into or the present she left behind.

Will she return to fix what was broken… or stay where her heart feels whole?

Some dreams feel too real—others, maybe, are meant to be lived.

As soon as Qing Liqing opened her eyes, she found herself in the master bedroom of the villa she had purchased at a low price before the end of the world.　　The shock and anger after being betrayed by his most trusted friend lingered in his heart for a long time, the　　Hatred made him lose his usual composure, and he lost control of himself and swatted away the things on the bedside table.　　Then he heard a man's emotionless voice: You hurt me.　　Qing Liqing: ???!　　Zhen Li stretched out his arm, a small red mark on it.　　Qing Liqing: Wait, just now here ...... someone ......?　　Zhen Li expressionless: I'm not a person, I'm this villa you're living in right now.　　Qing Liqing: I'm sure either you're crazy or I am.

All of my contest entries I have done for various competitions across Penana.

Each will be an issue on thier own, with awards won.

The Tragedy in the Bakery

It was the night of negotiations when I saw my guest off. With a weariness in my body, I sat on the cushion on the floor and gazed at the candles flickering softly in the corners of the house. The snacks on the plate still sparkled, my head was heavy and my heart full. I started crying, as if every time a guest comes or goes, I wait for a (different) someone to open the door for them or close it for their sake. The sound of the news came from my phone, and every few minutes, the word (negotiation) was repeated. I pick up my phone and write to him:

“Mr. so-and-so, indirect negotiations between Iran and the US took place, but there was no message from you for negotiations, communication, sending smoke, whistles, shots, sounds, bells, bangs, or any kind of news. If you think you're clever, you're not. I'm still on the cold wooden stairs, watching with my head tilted right toward you. You in the hut, and I in the narrow house. I am sweet, you are the good Khosrow. I cried a lot... I mean really a lot. If I'm alive, it's just because I want you to be less and for your fears to fade into the ground. Otherwise, I've been pulled back into the Adenosine injection again! I was in the hospital. See, I'm going to die! Don't feel bad, okay? If my letter reached you, how could you be so cruel not to write a single line in reply? Since (so-and-so date), I've been missing you like lightning struck me. Why, man? Why did you hurt me? Why did you break my heart?

‘We’ve washed, with the blood of the liver, the robe of the soul / No thread of his remains, nor any warp, O cupbearer!’

I am the stone of the kick,

Your production."

I sent it, thinking how I wish I could ride on the wings of technology and send it into his phone or into his ears at that speed! I remember Saadi’s poem: "There is peace between infidelity and Islam, yet you still fight with us."

My head is dizzy, I pick a piece of cheese with my fork and eat it. I light my cigarette, go to the window, and as I puff on the cigarette, I think to myself: why did I send this message? Didn't the doctor tell me: 'You, my sweet, perfect lady, a fragile glass, a pearl of mine, why are you even thinking of him? This man has no existence outside, no life, no soul. You're imagining him. He doesn't even have a heart. He is not alive! His lack of response means nothing to you.' I hear the doctor's voice in my head, and I remember telling him, 'You, who have no existence, something has settled in my bones...'

Dr. Hiz's eyes always lingered on my hennaed hands. Once he asked me where else I apply henna besides my hands, and I said, "On my feet, a little above my ankles, on my chest, my lips, my hair, and on both hands a little above the wrists..." And he said, "How has this man not been enchanted by a woman as ethereal as you?" I replied, naïvely like Baytai Hejiri, "Well, he likes whiskey." The doctor said, "In your letter, you called him a superman, but he's not even made of clouds, cotton, or sponge. He's just a joker. Forgive him." I replied, "I won't forgive him." All of these conversations paraded in front of me, and I struggled within myself because, as Mokhtari said, a human being’s bag is not milk; it leaves a place for pain.

The ash from my cigarette fell to the floor and crumbled. I crushed it under my shoe on the tiles. Without paying attention to this mess, I reached for the bowl on the table and ate the remaining chips. When I came to my senses, my face was wet with tears. The blue flickering lights in my home slowly turned off and on again, inviting me to sleep. "Oh woman, come, sleep, you’re so tired." But "What’s sleep to the eyes of a lover?" I am a servant of long nights. I am a woman of the night. If there is any light in life, it's a tiny spark that warms my heart during these nights, insomnia, and madness.

The bruises on the skin of my left hand, where the veins from the IV needle had been connected, were still visible. A bruise like a violet flower had made its mark on the whiteness of my skin. I thought of deleting my message, as I’m a writer in this country and being left without a response crushes my heart. But I was too tired to do anything, so I told myself, “To hell with it! One day, I will die, and everything will be read all at once. A day when it’s too late, and the tea has gone cold.”

The next day, I wake up. I feel weak, and my blood pressure is low. The air is turning dark. I quickly get out of bed, eat a quick breakfast so I don’t faint from weakness. In the hallway, the smell of fresh bread fills the air, and even though I haven’t eaten bread for years, I crave going to the bakery to buy a piece of hot, oven-fresh bread. I put on my cotton jacket and tightly fasten my belt so my pants won’t fall down from my thin waist. I angrily check my phone, and I see my message still unread... I curse myself. I walk out of the house with firm steps. I tell myself, tonight I won’t let my feelings control me. I’ll open my ears and let myself be humiliated as much as he wants. Maybe I’ll become a better person. As he said, “Maybe you haven’t been humiliated enough yet.” No... the traces of the important men in my life have been so deep that I haven’t been humiliated enough.

I run my hand along the springtime hedges and breathe in the scent of blossoms. My hair is tied up in a cherry-colored bun, and for a piece of bread, I’m going out of my way, hoping my soul doesn’t melt from the craving for fresh, hot bread. The night falls. The call to prayer sounds, and I find myself in the bakery with my shoulders slumping in the dusk. I want to call him from there and tell him, “Mr. so-and-so, stranger, good-for-nothing, you left me behind. Is this how you treat people?”

But his voice rings in my ears:

"Ah, I saw you called, but when my photo pops up on my phone, I just turn it off. Ha ha ha."

I think of my face. How seeing my photo bothers him or how easily he opens his mouth to lash out at me. I tell my guardian angel, "You are my witness." This man, like those who have drunk magic water or locked their seven bonds, did everything in his power to torture me. The thought of the tears I’ve shed, the nights I stayed awake, and the cigarettes we never shared together disgusts me. I wish I could scoop all these ruthless words from my memory and throw them into the well, but alas...

I’m in the bakery now, and the heat from the oven touches my face. I think my heart is burning like the oven, and I miss him terribly. The kind bakers with smiles on their faces, far from the weakness of the wealthy and obsessed with money, invite me to sit with them. I’ve seen one or two of them before. I had brought them sweets, and we had kneaded dough together and talked about flowers. The bakery, where life flows among the pure-hearted people, I turned to them and said, “I came for a fresh, hot loaf, but first, can someone lend me their phone to make a call?”

Like in gangster movies, five phones appeared in front of me. They said, “Call anyone you want, say whatever you need. Go ahead.” I laughed. It felt like an old film. I chose the oldest phone and said, “I want to call my teacher who’s mad at me.”

The baker said, “My phone is yours, sister.”

I turned my back on them and dialed his number. My hand trembled as if connected to electricity. My eyelid began to twitch. On the second ring, he picks up, cheerful and carefree, waiting to talk to an unknown number. Without saying hello, I say, “We washed, with the blood of the liver, the robe of the soul / No thread of his remains, nor any warp, O cupbearer... I won’t wait to see what he says. I continue, ‘Not a moment passed without me thinking of you, not a page of the calendar turned without me writing about you...’” It seems he’s starting to understand. He falls silent and greets me, saying he’s been busy, very busy. I say, “Everyone’s busy, I wrote to you, you didn’t reply. I called, you didn’t answer. Is this how it works?”

He shoots me down, a professional marksman, saying, “Nothing happened, we only met twice.”

It feels like snakes twisting inside me. I get sick thinking of those nights, of all the laughs we had, and suddenly he looked at me and answered my question about whether he truly didn’t love me with a laugh: “Ha ha, no, I really don’t love you. Ha ha ha.”

My hand shakes, the juice of my soul pours out, and I can’t look at the bakers. Suddenly, he asks, “How are you?”

What should I say? That I’m dying? Does it even matter to someone who doesn’t make time for you? For someone who doesn’t care? So I censor the truth and only, relying on my latest test results, say, “You could have prevented this from happening with my test results!” And I remember my grandfather and continue, “I never thought after my grandfather, a great sorrow would knock me down. But you did. You turned your back on the light.”

I don’t continue. To someone who has fallen asleep, talking about energy, karma, dharma, and how tomorrow is too late, how tea is cold, and how indifference to others' suffering is useless – it wouldn’t help.

I want to hang up the phone abruptly, but to my surprise, the baker holds up a large frying pan with an omelet and offers it to me. He says, “It smells good, come eat with us. Don’t go, we’d feel indebted.”

I think about how the people here, with hearts as pure as crystal, embody nobility without attending philosophy or mysticism classes. In the same sacred bakery attire, with their white aprons, they are a true example of grandeur.

Months ago, I had wished to break my vegan diet on the Chalous road and treat myself to a couple of eggs or a roadside omelet. Now, why would I want to interrupt this moment for a little bread? From the other side, the phone asks, “Did you take the baker’s phone – and of course, laughing, like a gazelle in a pasture – ?”

I say, “I don’t know...” I turn to the bakers and ask, “Who is the baker here?”

My mind starts spinning. I feel like I could burst from joy. It’s like I have wings on my shoulders. Wow, I’m someone important enough to be asked!

I say, “Learn from these bakers, who are people of heart and purity...”

I hang up the phone, feeling braver than ever. As always, I’ve never owed or been indebted to my heart and feelings. I take the fresh bread in my hand and leave, thinking how much I want to go to that place where we smoked together and I sent my birthday balloon to the sky for him.

_______________________________________________________________________

sanaz seyed esfahani

When I look into the mirror

It is me, I guess

A girl looking back

Who is drowning in the mess

​​​​​​​

When I look into the mirror

I smile big

Because if I don’t

I can never win this

This story is an unusual concept. Each chapter is a short story that takes place in each of the 50 states. The states are selected in the order they joined the Union

Following the execution of her father, Norah Chamberlain's life turned upside down. Her impoverished mother to a position as a governess in faraway Romania. Travelling from England across the European continent, they come face to face with a dilapidated castle perched high on a crag. The eerie occupants frightened Norah. Nevertheless, her mother immediately falls under the thrall of Baron vonHelfin. Soon, Norah finds herself in his sights. Will she fall under the same spell as her mother? .

When the plague hits San Francisco's LGBTQ community, it is up to Lt Col Oliver Talbot to stop it. Unbeknown to him, his brother--formerly known as Ivan Talbot--has already succumbed to the rapidly spreading disease. With his team of experts, Oliver must penetrate into the Middle Eastern hideout of a fanatic who is on path to destroy not only the LGBTQ community but the entire Western Civilization.

We fell apart,

Like fallen leaves in October,

Even though we were from the same branch,

Our foolish promises and words spoken at whims couldn't anchor us to the tree,

So we flew apart with low blow of wind,

Now that I think,

Perhaps it was foolish of us,

To give our hearts to someone unknown,

But now so deep in love,

I wonder if we can call it a mistake,

Even though it only lasted for a season,

Perhaps it could sum up our lives.

----x----

My first poetry collection.

Some of the poems here are free verses.

I hope you like it. Thank you kind stranger or friend for reading!