The
Night That Everything was Lost
Okay, I hate the title, so if you can think of anything better, please help me! Also, I realize that this is kind of a weird and confusing piece; it's supposed to be like that, so if it's absolutely too confusing, please help me there too! Thanks!!
The night had been
one of silence and serenity, filling the empty streets of his beloved
city with enough darkness to hide its secrets. He traversed them
alone, his shoulders slumped and his saunter poignant but his pace
undaunted. Somehow he knew what he was going to find, and yet for
some reason he refused to believe. He stared at the gravel beneath
his feet with such focus that his eyes began to dry out and tears
streamed down his cheeks, and the entire way home he kept muttering
to himself that it wasn’t to be.
When he finally came
upon the street of his residency he was overcome with that horrifying
feeling of dread that had been bubbling beneath the surface of his
emotions for what felt like years. The air around him seemed to
change into that of hell, ripping at his skin with its tenacious
claws of devilish heat. The ground beneath him seemed to shift, and
the world around him began to spin and contort itself into
overwhelming shapes that shook his heart. It took all of his might to
keep his feet moving at a steady pace until he finally stood upon the
front steps of his house.
For some odd reason
he felt as though he should knock, as though he might be interrupting
something. He felt as if behind that door there was no longer the
place he had called home for nearly a year now, but a whole new world
entirely. That small, wooden entrance was no longer a gateway to his
place of peace and security, but instead now a gateway to hell.
He finally summoned
up the courage to reach a shaky hand forward and turn the knob o f
the door, pushing it open and revealing to himself nothing but a dark
and empty living room. The emptiness of the place reverberated
through his being as though possessing it and a voice inside of him
was telling him that his family was gone; left somewhere.
That was when he
heard the crying.
It was high and it
was pitiful, ringing through the halls of the house like the
incessant toll of a church bell. It struck at his heart and he
instantly went running for the back door.
Stop, his
mind told him. Don’t go running out there like an idiot. You
know what’s happening. You know all too well. Be smart about
this.
He went up to the
kitchen window, and peered out into the backyard. The dim light of
the moon was cast down upon the people outside, alighting the sad
scene with its pale white glow.
He couldn’t
believe what he was seeing… He just couldn’t.
He rushed outside as
fast as he could, slamming the back door behind him. One of the men
looked up instantly; the other too turned their heads nonchalantly,
then glared at him with hate.
More screaming. More
crying.
“It’s
another one,” one of the men whispered to the others, not
taking his eyes off of Ali for a second. “I thought there were
only three.”
“No, there are
four,” answered one. “We were waiting for this one.
Wouldn’t want him to be unable to say goodbye to his sweetie
pie, now would we?”
The other two
chuckled maniacally at this. Ali felt like throwing up.
Her face was
contorted into a terrified grimace. Her body lay crumbled on the
ground in an agonized mess. Her voice begged him to go; to leave.
But, he could never do that. Not to her; his love.
“Why?”
was all he was able to choke out. Stuttered and stammered, the word
came out weak, but it came out none the less.
“We think you
know why,” snapped back one of the men, shifting his gun around
in his arms casually. “They all seem to know why; they just
don’t want to accept it.”
At this Ali did not
argue, for it was true, he did know why.
Her eyes looked up
at them, wide and glassy, pleading for mercy from some unknown
entity. She was begging for her life.
“Let her go,”
Ali demanded weakly.
The three men
laughed at his request. “You’re a funny man,” one
of them snapped, hoisting his gun onto his shoulder. “But
neither of you get to go.”
Ali put his hands in
the air in surrender, and slowly made his way over to his wife. He
knelt down beside her and gently kissed the side of her head, tears
streaking down his cheeks and into her hair as he did so. “I
love you,” he whispered into her ear. “I have always
loved you.”
“Shut-up!”
Shouted one of the men who came up to Ali and violently jammed his
gun to the side of his head. “Dead people cannot talk.”
The thought of her
dead was too much for him to bear. The image of her lifeless body
lying on the ground like those of his mother and father chilled him
to the bone and made his stomach churn. Her shaky breaths called out
her fear to him, and it was a fear that he would not stand to witness
any longer.
Ali turned his head
slowly so as to look the man in the eye. His face was mean and
distorted with hatred, his large nose scrunched up and his dark eyes
beady like the devil’s. It was a face that Ali could look at no
longer. He shot up from where he knelt so as to look the man
squarely in the eye.
You can do this,
Ali.
He straightened his
back and licked his dry lips.
No more being a
coward, tonight you will be a man and fight for the woman you love.
“No more of
this,” He growled under his breath, cracking his knuckles. “You
will not hurt her.”
Now, go for this.
Give him what he deserves and do what you know is right.
He lunged forward,
his hands reaching for the gun in the man’s hands. There was
the distant sound of gunfire, the momentary crying of a woman, and
then all was silent and white. Ali lay on the ground with no gun in
his hand, and looked about helplessly as small white feathers floated
down from the air and landed across his yard. They were soft to the
touch and brushed against his skin with a daunting grace. He felt the
sorrowful sensation of tears streaming down his face as he watched
the body of his poor wife being covered in a blanket of cowardly
white.
~
He awoke with a
startle, sitting up atop the shifting sand that sat beneath him. The
hot desert air blew his matted black hair from his shoulders and
filled his lungs with its nauseating warmth. The sun burned like a
fire above him, causing driblets of sweat to roll down his face and
fall lifelessly into the sand.
He knew where he was
and yet he didn’t have a clue. He was exactly where he had been
the day before and the day before that and yet he had been traveling
the entire time.
“Oh, dear
Allah,” he mumbled under his breath as he his eyes scanned the
endless dunes of the Sahara. The vastness of it was daunting and
horrifying, filling his heart with the same sort of wonder he held
when he first saw the endless Mediteranean.
Remember how she
reached over and held your hand?
Ali shook his head
and forced himself to his feet, begging himself to forget it; to
forget everything.
Remember what she
whispered in your ear? Remember?
His legs were shaky
and his head was spinning. His throat was as dry as the ground
beneath him. He knew he didn’t have much longer.
She told you she
had never seen something so beautiful.
At that he fell to
the ground in agonized defeat, his face drowning in the sand. He
tried to get up; with all of his might he tried, but the most he
could get was his face out of the sand.
It was as he was
fading off into the darkness that before him emerged the city he had
once called home. In his ears erupted the familiar sound of commotion
and conversation, and instead of smelling nothing but the dry
emptiness of desert he smelt the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked
Khubz. His lips suddenly curved up into a smile –an expression
that seemed unnaturally foreign to him- and he began to close his
eyes.
~
“Wake up,
Ali,” a familiar voice called to him from the depths of the
darkness. “Wake up.”
Her voice seemed so
close he could nearly see her face. He tried to fight off the shadows
that held him down in the obscurity, but he was unable to break free.
He tried to call out to the woman that he needed help, he needed help
so badly.
“Ali, darling,
wake up.” This time the voice seemed closer, and Ali felt a
nudge on his shoulder. The darkness remained for what felt like an
eternity until it finally succumbed and gave way to life. Around him
appeared a dimly lit hut with walls made of sandstone, and before him
knelt a small Arabian woman with large eyes that were as dark as
night. She smiled down at him that smile he had come to love so
dearly, and her long, black hair trailed down her shoulders like a
drapery of silk.
“It’s
you,” was all that he was capable of saying, his voice rasping
as though it were made of sandpaper. His throat ached and felt as dry
as the desert outside, but he pushed his pain away in order to enjoy
the beauty that sat before him. He had nearly forgotten how she had
looked. It had almost eluded him how her eyes appeared as big as the
moon and how her lips curved into the shape of a blooming rose. “I…
I have missed you.”
“And I you,”
she whispered back to him as she rested her hand gently on his
forehead. Her hands were as hot as the air around them, yet they
still were able to send a chill down his spine. “I have been
away for so long; I was worried you wouldn’t be here when I
came back.”
Ali grabbed her hand
in his and kissed it softly, her skin so supple it felt as if nothing
was even there. “I nearly wasn’t, my lovely Shanze, but I
am now, and all is good again.”
For a long moment
the two of them just sat there, staring into each other’s eyes,
forgetting all else. The world seemed to melt away around them as
they reminisced without saying a word. It wasn’t until another
woman came bustling in that their concentration was finally broken.
“Is he
better?” Asked the small woman as she rushed in. Her face
beamed as she looked down at her son, and it seemed in just a split
second she had her arms around him and was nearly suffocating him in
her embrace. “Oh, Ali, I have missed you so much,” she
murmured in a quivering voice that made it sound as if she were
crying. “We never should have left you like that. We should
have stayed with you for always.”
Ali wrapped his arms
around her too, trying to hold back tears. “It is okay, mother.
I should have… I should have…”
His mother shushed
him and released him from her embrace. “Do not worry about it,
my son. You did what you had to do, you had no other option. Never
would we blame you for our departure.” Her eyes looked dead to
him. When he was a child they seemed endless and full of all the life
in the world, but now they seemed like nothing more than dark stones…
Fake…
“I need
water,” he stated suddenly, forcing himself to look away from
his mother and break that deadly trance.
“Well, of
course!” His wife exclaimed as she jumped up from his side and
started bustling around the hut for a glass. “How negligent are
we? Fawning over you without even asking if you needed anything!”
His mother laughed.
“You should be happy we left, son.”
Ali shook his head.
“Never. Never would I be happy for that.”
Shanze came running
back in with a glass in her hand, falling to her knees next to her
husband. She handed him the glass and patted him on the head. “There
you are, my dear. You surely must be thirsty after that long trek in
the desert! Why would you do such a thing, anyway?”
“I needed to
get away.” The glass was cold beneath his finger tips. He could
feel the condensation running down his hand. “I needed to
escape all of the pain.” He raised the glass to his lips and
tipped it up. For a second he was sure he felt that cool sensation of
water running down his throat, but he remained parched. He looked at
the glass for a long second, assuring himself that there was indeed
water within, and then tipped it back up again. Nothing. His throat
remained raspy and dry.
“What is wrong
with this glass?” He asked of the women. “I get nothing
from it. Is this some kind of trick?”
Shanze opened her
mouth to answer him, but before she could produce any words their
conversation was interrupted by the distinct sound of gunfire
outside. Their heads turned sharply towards the door and the women
began to shake.
“Oh, no,”
his mother mumbled as she grabbed her daughter-in-law by the elbow.
“They’re here.”
“I thought he
said they wouldn’t reach our town for several days yet?”
Demanded Shanze.
“I thought so
too.”
Then the door burst
open, in stepping a large man with a turban wrapped tightly around
his face. In his hands he held a machine gun, and his eyes glared at
all of them with endless hate. Without a word he raised the gun and
began to fire. As he did so waves of red broke through the soft mud
of the hut and flooded the floor. It hit Ali hard, and his mouth
filled with the thick water that felt like nothing more than sand.
The waves knocked out the weak legs of the bed beneath him and Ali
fell to the ground with a soft thud, the red water now rushing over
him endlessly.
The women screamed
and crumbled to the floor, praying to their God to save them. Ali was
immobilized with fear and could do nothing but simply sit there as
the man shot.
And then everything
went black.
~
He remembered being
mad at her, and yet for the life of him he couldn’t remember
why. He reminisced of that day as though a ghost traveling back in
time, watching him perform the acts of that fateful morning over and
over again as though rehearsing for a play. He had been storming
through the house, slamming things and swearing under his breath.
Shanze followed a ways behind him, her deep eyes wide with concern,
and her hands holding each other with fear.
“Where is it?”
Ali shouted, slamming the drawer of the end table he had been
searching through and throwing his hands in the air. “Where in
the hell could it have gone?”
“Why do you
need it so urgently?” His wife asked of him, playing nervously
with the dark fabric of her khimar. “You act as if your father
is going to die today.”
Ali winced at the
thought and continued his search. Why did the probability of his
father’s death suddenly seem so imminent? The moment his feet
touched the floor that morning he had felt the incessant need to
locate the only gift he had received from his father on the day of
his 18th birthday. And, he wasn’t going to rest
until that pouch of silk sat safely in his hands and he could gaze
within at the glimmering emerald that should lay within. “I
know that it was inside of my night stand,” He grumbled as he
turned to all of the kitchen drawers. “I know for a fact that
was where I left it last.”
“Ali, darling,
why don’t you give it a rest?” Shanze took a step closer.
“You have to be to work soon. I’m sure it will turn up-”
“I need it
now!” Ali had screamed at her, spinning around
vehemently and glowering at her. “That’s worth a lot of
money, and It was one of the few gifts I ever received from my
father. If he found out I lost it… Oh, dear, If he found out I
lost it….” Ali’s hands gripped his head and he
sank into the nearest dining room chair. He lowered his face so that
he was staring at the ground, and he just sat there in silence for
what felt like an eternity.
Shanze quietly made
her way over to her husband and tentatively placed a fragile hand on
his back. “Darling, I’m sure it will turn up eventually.”
She massaged his shoulders tenderly and twirled her fingers through
his thick, black hair. “Besides,” she whispered. “Nothing
can be lost forever.”
Ali slowly raised
his head to look up at his beautiful wife with confused eyes. “Why,
sure they can. Everyone has something they lose and can never find
again.”
“Well, of
course. But, eventually ever thing is rediscovered by someone.”
She smiled and kissed him serenely on the cheek. “As I said,
nothing can be lost forever.”
~
He forced his eyes
open even though it hurt more than anything had before. His eyelashes
fought the sticky sand that tried to hold them together, and
eventually they gave way to the blinding light that sailed across the
endless desert. He opened his mouth to take in a deep gulp of air and
a dry pain reverberated through his throat. He coughed and sputtered,
pushing himself to his knees as he did so.
Then, he felt a
light tap on his shoulder. He slowly turned his head, his matted hair
flying in his face. With wide eyes he stared at the face of a man he
rarely ever got to see. He blinked several times and the old man did
not disappear.
“Hello, son”
the man greeted, showing off his rotting teeth as he smiled and held
out a hand to Ali. “I have missed you.”
Ali felt himself
gulping back his boyhood tears as he acquiesced to the help his
father offered and heaved himself to his feet. He stared with
disbelief at his father without saying a word. He stood there trying
to conjure the few childhood memories he had of that man but found it
nearly impossible. He gazed at his father’s face that seemed to
hold more wrinkles and his eyes that seemed to hold less soul and
wondered where all of the years have gone. He opened his mouth to say
something; to say anything, but found that he couldn’t. All
that escaped his dry lips was a soft crack as a lone tear trickled
down his face.
“You still
have that emerald I gave to you many years ago, correct?” The
old man asked with a joking grin. He patted his son lovingly on the
shoulder and laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, I know you would
never lose it. But, don’t you go selling it either. You see,
save it until you finally give us grandchildren and then use it to
pay for their college. They will not be like you or I. They will get
an education. They will need it, you know. Times will be different
then. I guarantee it.”
It took a moment for
Ali to break from his guilty trance and he nodded his head. “Yes,
sir.”
His father laughed
again and grabbed him by the elbow. “There are some people here
who have asked to see you,” His father announced quietly,
turning around to lead his son to a small garden that lay like an
oasis off in the distance. “So you will come and sit with us
and talk. It has been so long since we have talked.”
Ali let out a deep
breath of exhaustion as they neared the garden. In the center of the
many shrubs sat a lone white table with two men sitting at one side.
Above them twined grape vines upon an archway, and on either side
were orange trees. Flowers bloomed all about, filling the area with a
rainbow of colors. And, at the corner sat a small pond filled with
koi. Ali felt the aching desire to run for it and gulp down the water
within by the mouthful.
As his father led
him towards a small white chair that was waiting for him at the
table, Ali noticed his mother and wife picking berries from a nearby
bush. He tried to call out to them but he found his voice to be lost.
His father smacked him on the shoulder and shook his head. “Do
not disturb them,” he whispered. “Besides, you have other
people you must talk to first.”
Ali sat down at the
table and faced the two visitors. They both stared back at him with
beady black eyes, and Ali instantly felt a surge of rage rush through
his veins. Their long, black beards were moist with their sweat, and
their thick hands gripped eagerly at the guns at their sides. They
both wore matching black turbans. They both had mocking smirks glued
to their faces.
Ali felt a sudden
blow to the back of his head and turned around to glare at his
father.
The old man furrowed
his eyebrows at his son and motioned to the two men. “Don’t
be rude,” he whispered angrily.
Ali looked over to
his mother and wife, hoping that one of them would recognize the men
and get him away from them, but they both remained fixated on their
chore. He grudgingly turned back to the men as his father had said
to, but he refused to utter a word. He simply glowered at the two of
them, waiting for them to back down.
“Would you
like some tea, gentleman?” His father asked without waiting for
an answer, setting down three cups and filling them with the
inviting, steaming liquid. Before leaving with the teapot he shot his
son an angry look and stormed off.
Ali glanced
momentarily down at the tea with an aching desire, but refused to
move. The presence of the two men struck him with a mixture of rage
and fear that rendered him immobile.
“We’re
sorry we took them from you,” one of them grumbled as he
grabbed the glass of tea and took a long gulp of it. Ali watched with
envy and could almost feel the sensation of the warm liquid rushing
down his throat himself. “But, you understand why we had to do
it, do you not?”
Ali’s eyes
wavered for a second as he looked down at the ground. The words of
his father rang through his head… “I don’t care
who the man thinks he is; he has no right to run this country
treating us like a bunch of dogs. I refuse to have my rights stolen
by somebody who thinks he is our leader. That man deserves to rule
nothing more than his own shit.” Ali shuddered at the
ignorance of the statement and returned his gaze back at the two men.
“Never speak poorly of our leader lest anyone find out,”
his friend had told him. ”I hear they stick people in
jail for that kind of thing. Even kill them sometimes, if they feel
like it.”…
“You took all
from me,” he growled at them, fighting back tears. “You
left me with nothing to live for and nothing to hope for. It is
because of you that I set out into this desert to find something in
this land of nothing.”
“As I said, it
was only orders.” The man’s face held no pity and no
remorse; it was as emotionless as ever. His beady eyes glared back at
Ali relentlessly, and his fingers drummed against the butt of his
machine gun rhythmically as if simply to remind Ali of his sins.
“They disobeyed, and we can’t let people who have
disobeyed go on unpunished.”
He remembered how
they had looked like as he stood inside that empty house, peering
through the kitchen window into the darkness. The bodies of his
parents lying lifelessly on the grass. His beautiful Shanze collapsed
on the ground, her frail body convulsing with vigorous sobs and fits
of agony… He had felt a slight inclination to run out there
and be with his wife. He had felt like it was his duty to sit with
her and tell her he loved her… That he had always loved
her. And, a small part of him refused to believe the fact that
instead of running out there to be with his family he had turned from
the kitchen window and ran out of the house in a pathetic fit of
panic. Part of him refused to believe that this desert was only a
desert instead of the vast sands of hell; that he was still alive
instead of dead from that night that everything was lost. Part of him
dreamed that he was a hero that was hailed instead of the selfish
sinner who ran away.
Ali closed his eyes
and looked away. If only I hadn’t been such a coward, he
thought. If only I had stayed and fought for them instead of
running off like a scared little boy. Even if I had died at least I
would have died with dignity. Now I may live, but I live only in
shame. “You left me with nothing and yet with so much,”
he whispered, his voice shaking. “Every day I crumbled beneath
my guilt, and it is because of you.”
The two of them
glanced at each other quickly and shrugged, standing up after doing
so. “As I said,” replied one of them, finishing up his
cup of tea before standing up. “It was what had to be done. I
was only doing the work of our beloved leader. “
Ali watched in
aggravated disbelief as the two men stalked off, their hands never
leaving the guns at their sides as they did so. Eventually they
walked off into the hazy desert and out of Ali’s sight. He
shook his head as he turned to his family, expecting some sort of
reaction but receiving none. His mother and wife continued their
berry-picking, and his father was now gazing off blankly in the
distance.
Ali sighed and
turned back to his tea. It stared back at him enticingly; begging him
to take a sip. He reached forward with shaky hands and cradled it
gently in his grasp, feeling a wave of excitement rush through him as
he imagined the warm tingle of the tea running down his throat. He
closed his eyes and raised the cup to his mouth, preparing himself
for the fantastic sensation. When he received nothing from it he
tipped his head far back and brought the cup with it, shaking it as
if to get the last droplet from it. Right before he lowered the cup
to inquire as to why he got no tea from it his mouth was filled with
a handful of sand and he sent the cup flying as he leaned forward
urgently to cough it all out. He began spluttering and gagging as
small granules of sand weaseled their way down his throat. Tears
rushed like rivers down his cheeks.
“Father,”
Ali demanded through coughing fits, wiping away at the sand stuck to
his face. “What happened, father? How did you turn my tea to
sand?” Ali opened his eyes in anticipation of his father’s
reply but when he looked around himself he was unable to find anyone.
The garden that had surrounded him was now gone, and the people he
had called his family were gone with it. He stood alone in the
endless dunes of the Sahara, staring blankly into the sunset with
tear-filled eyes. In between his fingers flowed the sand he had
poured into his mouth, and nowhere was the cup that he had thought he
had tossed to the side. The garden and family that he had come to
love in his youth was instead replaced by the vast desert and
deprived loneliness that he had come to know in his maturity.
His dehydration was
taking its toll and he felt himself crumbling helplessly to the
ground. He wondered hopelessly why he had ever truly set out into the
Sahara in the first place. He asked himself what his intentions truly
were. And yet, he had no real answer. He had set out on impulse,
without a second thought. He had brought nothing with him except for
his guilt and his shame. He had been an idiot, an ignorant, shameful
idiot. And yet he didn’t regret a bit of it.
Exhaustion finally got the best of him as he sprawled out of the
ground like a cat. He lay like that for a long time, murmuring little
nothings to himself as memories rolled across his vision in a
sweeping panic. Whether his murmurings were meant for God or for some
unseen mirage, even he didn’t know. He was far past the
line of insanity, nearing the line of the deceased. As he lay there
in the sand during his last precious moments of life he found himself
incapable of even remembering his own name.
Then she came to
him, and his sanity seemed to return to him for just another moment
longer. She kneeled down next to him and brushed his hair out of his
face with her long, delicate fingers. Her smile was as bright as the
brilliant moon of the night, and her deep eyes gazed down at him with
absolute, adoring love. Her lips pursed as she leaned forward and
kissed him gently on the forehead. “Nothing can be lost
forever, darling,” she whispered in his ear. “Nothing
can.”
“Oh, Shanze,
my desert rose,” he murmured, reaching a hand forward to brush
against her cheek. “Rid me of this suffering.”
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