The Monster Above the Boy's Bed

Boom! I am a monster, bellowed the monster above the bed

     I am not afraid, says the boy with dry eyes

But it's my job to scare you, says the monster

     Who gave you this job? Asks the boy

My creator, answers the monster. He made you, too.

     Why? Asks the boy

So I would have someone to scare, answers the monster

     Who did He make first, me or you? Asks the boy

Me, of course, huffs the monster. I am mighty. I am older and bigger than you.

     But you do not scare me, says the boy. Your job is useless.

Why do you not fear me? Asks the monster

     Because He spoke to me, this Creator, answers the boy

When? Asks the monster

     When you turned my home into dust and mixed it with my blood, answers the boy

What did He tell you? Asks the monster

     He said once I have seen who is stronger than you, I should not fear you, says the boy

Who is stronger than me? Huffs the monster

     Him, cries the boy


Lilas Taha is a novelist, winner of the 2017 International Book Awards  and is the author of Shadows of Damascus and Bitter Almonds.

The Toddler And The Sea

So I’m two years-old and, because I’m special, I was given a miracle: I can tell you my thoughts. I don’t know where I’m from, or where I am now, or where I’m going. I can only tell you what I’ve experienced so far.

Are you ready?

Here we go:

I filled my stomach on my mother’s milk when I was smaller. It was warm and plenty.

I slept on my father’s shoulder when I was too tired to walk. It was comfortable and wide.

I smelled my grandmother’s breath when she kissed me every morning. It was fruity and sweet.

I bounced on my grandfather’s lap when he tried to stop my crying. It was soft and a bit awkward.

I popped soap bubbles my older brother blew in my face when we bathed. It was fun and magical.

I kicked a football around and didn’t fall on my face for the first time. Everyone clapped for me.

I danced with my cousins to derbakkeh drums and oud strings. I liked the way their music moved my body.

I heard noises coming from the sky. They sounded like thunder, but were not followed by rain, only ash and cement chunks. It was too loud.

I hid in a closet to wait for the man with the heavy boots and long shiny rifle to leave our house. It was scary.

I crawled under metal wire with sharp spikes. They hurt when my skin caught on them.

I felt the sun burn too close, too hot. The only moisture came from my mother’s eyes.

I saw my uncle lie very still in the street, a circle of red paint spread around his head.

I bobbed up and down on a boat. I was sick. I only saw water.

I slipped through my father’s hands. I didn’t float.

I heard him cry. His voice went hoarse.

I swallowed water. It was too salty.

I breathed sand through my nose.

I am cold, very cold.

I’ve arrived.


Lilas Taha is a novelist, winner of the 2017 International Book Awards  and is the author of Shadows of Damascus and Bitter Almonds.