Gretly's Mind

My name is Ahmed Gretly, and I live in Cairo, Egypt. I'm a published writer, a Civil Engineer, a poet, a freelancer, a researcher, a daydreamer, and a psychopath. I write fiction, mostly short stories and novellas. I also enjoy reading, photography, and art in general.

Welcome to my blog.

I'll be posting things I like and that inspire me.

Go to this link if you wanna check out my writings: http://anadergretly.wordpress.com/
#CurrentlyReading: The Possession of Mr. Cave by Matt Haig (@matthaig1).

#Books #Reading #Hardcover

#CurrentlyReading: The Possession of Mr. Cave by Matt Haig (@matthaig1).

#Books #Reading #Hardcover

Never ending pour. I can’t feel my face. Or anything.

Never ending pour. I can’t feel my face. Or anything.

I think I died. Yeah. I think the sun just got me. Bye-bye. Bye…

I think I died. Yeah. I think the sun just got me. Bye-bye. Bye…

Some Kerouac.

Some Kerouac.

#Reading

#Reading

I’m using that Snapchat thingy now, so, hit me up.

I’m using that Snapchat thingy now, so, hit me up.

Vintage hardcovers are the best.

Vintage hardcovers are the best.

#NopeNopeNopeNopeNopeNope #Nope #NopeNope! #Nope!

#NopeNopeNopeNopeNopeNope #Nope #NopeNope! #Nope!

I had to buy this edition of On The Road, I just had to. #Kerouac #OntheRoad

I had to buy this edition of On The Road, I just had to. #Kerouac #OntheRoad

#READ:

Staggering these hallways once more, walls plastered in madness, I wonder. Older memories have darkened the walls with filthy footprints of those who have lost themselves long ago, but found something to clench on to in their own wicked minds, something that growls and gnaws, something that snaps its rabid jaws and drools down its scarred chin, and the sick yellowish saliva matches the colour of its bulging eyeballs, and its tobacco stained fingernails. Staggering these hallways once more, walls plastered in madness, I wonder. And I hear them now, those incoherent mumbles that linger in your mind even though you strive to ignore them, and the screams, like sharp claws scratching the insides of your skull, leaving horrid markings like the ones left within Nazi gas chambers, and the sound echos, it rebounds off the once white walls like a stray bullet that finally gets lodged into your weary heart. Black blood oozes from your wound, tainting your straightjacket crimson, a jacket worn by many others like you, but you do not mind, not at all, for you welcome them on your skin, you welcome their ghosts inside your pores. Staggering these hallways once more, walls plastered in madness, I wonder. And I peer now at these corridors, empty, desolate, but alive with tell-tales of the ones who walked through them at one point or another. Bug-eyed, mad, beautiful. And the neon lights buzz their insect buzz, like they did before, and I am lost in this abyss at the end of the tunnel. Staggering these hallways once more, walls plastered in madness, I wonder; this is it.


#Writing #CreativeWriting #Prose #ShortProse

#READ:

Staggering these hallways once more, walls plastered in madness, I wonder. Older memories have darkened the walls with filthy footprints of those who have lost themselves long ago, but found something to clench on to in their own wicked minds, something that growls and gnaws, something that snaps its rabid jaws and drools down its scarred chin, and the sick yellowish saliva matches the colour of its bulging eyeballs, and its tobacco stained fingernails. Staggering these hallways once more, walls plastered in madness, I wonder. And I hear them now, those incoherent mumbles that linger in your mind even though you strive to ignore them, and the screams, like sharp claws scratching the insides of your skull, leaving horrid markings like the ones left within Nazi gas chambers, and the sound echos, it rebounds off the once white walls like a stray bullet that finally gets lodged into your weary heart. Black blood oozes from your wound, tainting your straightjacket crimson, a jacket worn by many others like you, but you do not mind, not at all, for you welcome them on your skin, you welcome their ghosts inside your pores. Staggering these hallways once more, walls plastered in madness, I wonder. And I peer now at these corridors, empty, desolate, but alive with tell-tales of the ones who walked through them at one point or another. Bug-eyed, mad, beautiful. And the neon lights buzz their insect buzz, like they did before, and I am lost in this abyss at the end of the tunnel. Staggering these hallways once more, walls plastered in madness, I wonder; this is it.


#Writing #CreativeWriting #Prose #ShortProse