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by Ahsan Yousaf
The hours of the devil is a story about a boy who has stitched the past to his existence like a vital organ. And due to this adamant idiosyncrasy, he lays entrapped in the sickly and impalpable world of Prozonia, from which there is only but one escape.
“Only she could bring a ruddy autumn smile to my teary-eyed face, no one else, especially not my father.”
“The memory brought a tepid smile to my face, only managing to lift the upper left corner of my lips that had blackened due to excessive intake of medication.”
“With the pills, I was in Prozonia; a sickly and impalpable greyness and without them, I was buffeting inside the sound waves of a cacophonous melody.”
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