As I reflect on my past, I’m reminded of the pleasant day that turned into a never-ending nightmare. The sun was hiding behind clouds as if afraid to show itself. The sky was more observant than vocal. My five-year-old sister, Ayesha, and I were playing in a garden near our house when she felt thirsty and went towards the house. But she came back running and shouting, “Ahmed Bhai Ma-Mama-ma, Bhai Baba…” Her pale face and faint voice still haunts me. I took her into my arms and rushed back to the house, only to find it reduced to debris and engulfed in fire. I felt like, I was going to suffocate. When, I tried to enter the house, but my neighbor grabbed me and took me and my sister Ayesha to his house. I was sitting numb. The spring inside me turned into a dark night, where thunder was at its peak.
I didn’t shed a single tear, but Ayesha was screaming with fear. I held her close to me, and hugged her tightly. And simply said, “Don’t worry, they will be back. I am with you”. Days passed, and I realized that our parents were gone. I was looking out of the window at the sky without anything in mind. For me it was a labyrinth, which I was trying to solve.The neighbors’ cruel words still echo in my mind: “We should keep Ayesha as a maid, and Ahmed can go to an orphanage.” That’s when I knew I had to escape.
My feet were hurting as I was carrying Ayesha on my back. The only place of comfort I knew was under the bridge, where no one would catch us. We spent the night holding each other. In the morning, buzzing flies woke me up. The darkness of night and subtle music of demons outside played lullaby for us.In the morning she asked me for food, which I hadn’t. I saw a stream of innocence flowing in her eyes, which could be filthy soon because of hunger. So, I make her understand to stay at the corner and don’t go anywhere until I’m back. I kept her safe like a mother bird, trying to save the baby from vultures.When I came back after begging food for us, she was bleeding, and her clothes were torn apart As I saw her wounded body, I felt a wave of grief wash over me.Delicate wings had been plucked brutally, I screamed so loudly, as if my lungs were out. With shaky hands, I dug her little grave. Soon, she was resting with my parents. I put my head on her grave and longed to pray for my death, to escape the pain that had become my constant companion. Since then, I haven’t cried. Survival slapped me and kicked me on the stomach to come out of fantasy, as no one would come to feed me. I emerged from the cemetery, blinking in the scorching heat that seemed ready to suck my blood. Hunger cast a spell upon me to beg, which I did. However, after some days, a guy asked me to come with him to get me a job, so I went. And the last string of hope was torn when I found myself with other beggar children from ages 3 to 15.
Many of them were handicapped. I was silent and asked myself why I was not panicking. A guard with a gruesome face fetched me with an arm and took me to another room, where a chubby man with a sinister face asked me about myself. He took a stamp, put it in Kin, and stamped me. I just closed my eyes. He was a bit shocked at my audacity and asked me to help him supervise kids instead of begging. One day my boss was with a little girl in an office, and I saw Ayesha in her. I was 17 years old by then. He started touching her inappropriately, which triggered a demon inside me, lulled by fate. I took pistol, shot him right at the head, and emptied the chamber. That was my first murder, and since then I have removed every hurdle to my success in becoming rich. The captain, who was investigating him, for a moment saw the innocence of 14-year-old Ahmed, which soon turned into a body, a skeleton. He cried with full force and tried to remember each and every incident. Soon, the captain saw him smiling, and he put his head on the table. When, after 10 minutes, he didn’t put his head up, the captain put his head up, which suddenly fell on the table. He was happy now, because the soul, which was bleeding, was now untangled from the body, which was the cause of his misery.
Zeemal Fatima
Zeemalfatima345@gmail.com
Short story
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