Palestwinians.

|Competition Winner|

 ZACH DIED IN THE EPILOGUE.  

Jus sayin' cause I've been asked a million times already. I fixed it up, because apparently that wasn't clear enough.  

Now don't kill me.

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Competition Winner

OK, so first off, let me just say it was VERY hard to choose a winner, since they were all so very good, masha'Allah! But alas, I did have to choose one. A massive thank you to everyone who attempted, if only you guys knew how much I loved reading it and how much I loved seeing your perspective. It meant so much to me, because it shows you took the story to heart!

I do have a few people still sending in their late entries, so I may decide to do a second and third place. 

Anyways, the person who got first place, did for a number of reasons...

1. They submitted their entry impeccably fast.

2. The writing is amazingly good. 

3. There is a sentence in this work that just latched onto my heart [shout out to whoever can guess what that sentence is lol]

4. They managed to encompass all the feels [lol] and most of the important characters in only a short amount of writing and let me tell you, that is very hard to do. 

5. It wasn't overdone in any way.

6. They included references to past chapters.

7. It's obvious a lot of thought and effort went into the writing. 

And much, much more. I'm sure the author realises anyhow, how great their writing is :) 

Anyway! 

A BIG round of applause for..... 

Starryepiphany! Read on to see how he portrayed Zach and Yasmine's future... 

“Daddy!” 

I was broken out of my trance by the sound of the voice of my little girl emerging from behind the clump of bushes. It was an autumn day in Canterbury, Melbourne with an uncanny shade of orange all around. She ran over to the bench I was sitting on and wiggled herself up beside me. 

“Daddy, are you upset?” 

Oh no! Was it too obvious? After all, she’s the little version of my… I smiled at her. “Why would you think that?” I ruffled her hair and looked at her delicate features, those same features that I got to look at every day for only two years. My daughter is the exact replica of my… I feel the hollowness building up inside me again. Some wounds take time to heal…

“Um…,” she looked upward furrowing her eyebrows as she pressed her forefinger to her lips. “I dunno, maybe because you’re like a, like a, statue! Yes! You’re like a statue! Statues always look sad.” Innocence dripping out of her three-year-old eyes as she looked at me, searching me. I suddenly feel self-conscious. I saw her lips twitch into a mischievous smile. “STATUE!” She exclaimed suddenly.

I stopped moving and stared blankly ahead. Out of the corner my eye I could see she did the same. Our little game was on. The first one to move loses. And like always, the desire to scratch some part of the body heightens during these games. Like right now I felt like scratching my elbow. Why? Why now of all times? Yes, I’m a grown man, but still I don’t want to lose to my daughter!  

Grow up Zach. Oh shut up, it’s just a father-daughter thing. Tell you what? The two monkeys inside me had started picking on each other again. Their fights usually turned into a heated quarrel especially when I thought about those two years.