.Silent screams
Everything around her was a blur, thick and dark. The curtains of the cold room seemed for a moment just like prison bars capturing her inside. She tried to figure out where she was, how she ended up being here. But her memory wasn’t too much of an ally to her. Upon dying to let go with all of those oxygen annulas that were tying her hands so ruthlessly, chances kept slipping away from her reach. Something about the room puzzled her as if it were a racetrack holding untold strangers whose long sweeping motion was struck in a rush as they were jostling one another much as deplorable fools. A few steps away, there was a high-pitched wail that invaded the whole place, piercing her broken heart before her weary ears whom she was straining to catch the familiar sound for a lucid utterance and a clear sight. Later on, she felt a hand patting on her shoulder. She turned around and her eyes smiled from her cheeks as she caught her mum’s plain face wearing her usual warm grin.
-" Good morning little princess !" said she pulling her in and squeezing her hand twice, dripping with sweat as she was dodging her countless questions that she was soon swamped with.
After a terse talk, the five-year-old Abigail was a bit relieved, chuckling with a frail voice, when she knew that she just caught a light cold that will soon go away. But little did she know that fate has recently written down her name in a heart-wrenching storyline, soon to be written-off. As days glided past, Susan hit the ground running just to paint a soft smile on her little girl’s sallow face. She filled her hospital room with colorful ballons, hanged her favorite cartoon posters on every wall, kept her plastic dinosaurs in every corner then placed her small piano across the room so that she would bang its keys from time to time. And that’s how she turned that grisly hell into a lush paradise hoping it would add a few extra breaths for her princess in this unfair world.
With blue eyes red underneath and dark circles beneath, it was too embellished to learn that Susan had a big dark secret stitched beneath her tongue with no one to pull its weight with her. Only The walls leaned getting closer to squeeze her as she lied on the cold hard ground, pillowing the infinite ocean of her crushing disillusions. A brutal war was raging on inside of her. Hell gate broke loose, leaving her soul torn in ashes much as a cigarette butt stepped on. Deep down, it shaded all of her, that malignant colorectal Cancer that was preying on her one and only princess’s body just like a Kodiak bear brandishing its lethal claws at her face.
With no shoulder to cry on, she was wearing that sombre secret much as a choker necklace with thousands of words tied-up around her treacherous heart that was pumping sirens in every heavy beat breaking through her brittle ribs. As she was resting her elbows on her knees, the traits of her little girl ran fadingly through her mind : Her wispy side-swept fringe, coal black eyes, ruddy freckled cheeks and Azalea-like lips. Her screams came silent in the void of her midnights as the tidal waves of the wild ocean dragged her down, down onto the inky depths of her memory suitcase, filling her corrupted lungs and pummeling her messy brain with no hope of making it out alive, unless with a vivid scar run all across her slender silhouette. Sitting by the window with spaces roaming in her hot cup of coffee woven through her tiny fingers, the world outside seemed to make sense to Abigail’s young eyes through the astral dusk for the very first time. The stars were floating just like shimmering crystal shards glitter in the endless Blue. There was a flame of magic captured in each gleam. Once their spell haunted her spirit, a straggering thunderbolt roared tearing open a rift in the limitless sky, reminding her that this stardust is mere millions of subtle beads away from her reach, cutting through the heavenly milky way farther hundred miles. As she swept skies aligned with those dazzling diamonds, deeply, she heard a beckoning serenade echo through pouring raindrops dribbling from the celestial panaroma :" We are all born of stardust, that is rutedly gifted at the bottom of our fearless souls. The true challenge lies in dusting ourselves off and aiming at an eye-catching sparkle for an inebriant burst ! ". Even though that unwritten taboo was perfectly shrouded in secrecy, Abigail could easily tell that there was some mystery revolving around her little body, eating her alive piece by piece. Sometimes, it just felt like worlds above her shoulders. Amid this dismal labyrinth, she trod lightly counting her footsteps, praying that the rickety floor won’t fall through wrapping mightily around her delicate waist. As the ramifications came to limelight, her only solace was the endless flow streaming down her sallow cheeks. That grueling chemotherapy had plain stolen the light from her eyes, drained the glow of her visage and torn out her hair tufts by tufts. However, it was never strong enough to cast a shadow over her angelic smile. Wide-eyed in her countless sleepless nights, insistent questions crept into her mind. What if it was the last breath she exhaled so deeply in this world?. Would her body system fight for some other minutes to capture this mad mess in her chest forever tangled in her long nights?. And if it did, would she have a moment to raise her head up, look at the horizon and scream out loud so mindlessly that she may shake the ground beneath her feet?. But wouldn't the sun get so mad at her for shutting its own peace of mind?. wouldn't it curse her name, throw billions of embers at her devastated body and burn her broken heart ... just turn her all into crumpled-up scraps of paper merely like Autumn leaves?.
As years rolled around, our eight-year-old heartbeats came undone much as a rollercoaster slowing down the acme. Yet, her soft hands were still holding on to the dim light flickering at the end of her room tunnel. One night as everyone fell asleep, she seized the chance to travel back to the arms of her dear friend. Tiptoeing out of the hospital lobby with a brimming watering pot tangled around her palm, she walked into a little garden ... a thumbnail of Eden that dresses sun-kissed daisies to broken ribs, alignes steady beats to failing hearts. In the middle of a chaotic site, she was spinning in her gorgeous dress sewn Indigo, teleporting to the depths of her promised land. The phonograph behind the walls was yawning Bob Dylan's Blowin' in the wind, blooming flowers that were once withered on derelict walls. With admiring eyes and generous hands, she began her journey leaping from one budding rose to another, kissing the soft petals of every violet and filling her corrupted lungs with the refreshing fragrance of jasmines. Her mellow lullaby had her paradise heave a euphoric sigh of nostalgia. This intimate setting, for her, never embraced a tight-knit family only. Nevertheless, it held such a magnitude within her soul as it was her secret treasure, her getaway land. Enamored with her company, a snowy dove burst through the horizon spinning around in a flutter of peace, weaving a majestic symphony of love that she had always craved. Chained to the rhythm, Abigail sang along followed by a wave of leaves plucking the strings of an endless serenity, putting fire of hope into her brooding eyes, never to be quenched again and heralding glad tidings to her world long-built up with walls of gray. Yearning for a fresh start, she witnessed the sun stretching its rays all over that empty city, scorching the tin roofs and wiping off the dewy surfaces. Fleet of foot down the deep puddles, she crept into her room then crawled into her bed, hiding an assortment of flowers, leaves and twigs under her pillow with a thought up her sleeve. And in the middle of a light doze, she heard a wild echo of unfathomable words haunting her mind :"Nothing lasts forever" . It was that time when the last morsel was thrust down the throttles, the staid laughter was struck from the hearts. The sky was cloaked in sable, invoking bleak prophecies of death. As all hostage to the restless dream, Abigail was dying for a close glimpse of that mythic archaic library. That desolate plain of clefts that had all the city smatter about it, passing its intricate mystery through the prism of their endless speculations and writing down a history that fits perfectly the short insight of each. With an afire heart, our little spy crept out of the window mere moments before the sky would lay its silver moon bare at full. Far away, the leaves were restlessly rustling and the crickets were eagerly chirping, all in grace. A boarded up archway was the very first build that burst through the twilight for her agog eyes. As she barely climbed the high crossed fences that had her hospital gown all in shred, her tiny feet finally touched the bleak ground. A few steps ahead, a true enigma had the unfamiliar face puzzled : a lantern hanging at the endpoint, lofty in defiance of the run-out hourglass with its black color obliterated into shades of gray, grappling with the countless bricks long-trown at it as if it has always been mighty against the whole world. Yet still firm with its flickering light vowing to forever shine, but to never blind anyone. The moment that her ears caught the birds chirping outside, she dashed into the door, waded through the classic leather-bound books carelessly-thrown on the floor then snatched her black umbrella, heading back for her curtained prison. Yet, the chorus of the roaring woods drew her attention. She was gasping for the sweet perfume of mountain grass in the thick darkness with her cold hands tucked in a ragged jacket pockets. As the gusts of the rushing winds were hardly pushing her bare feet down the valley, the cold air seeped over her bald head and somehow found its way to her broken heart. Standing on a rugged cliff with a shrewd knowingness, she found herself crowned with a flock of vultures circling a dark giant cumulonimbus that soon morphed into a Kaleidoscope of screaming memories, forever alive in the back of her mind. Gripped by a wild hysteria, she broke down, in agony, miscarrying a shrill laugh that shook Tartarus beneath her feet as she had relived that excruciating pain. With her left fist clutching her silvery locket hanging from her neck, her heart was pounding out of her chest, skipping a couple of beats as she was staring at the sea glowing rosily in the dawn with flames burning within her brittle ribs. Across the slinky waves of high waters lapping against the rocks, a trawler glided past with its sail wavering in the gales. And in the soft light of the scattering sunrays, she trudged towards the ledge, said a prayer for gratitude for each chink in her armor, took a deep breath then threw herself headlong onto a rushing riptide, quite stripped from all her fears with a look on her face that emphatically says :" I brave your highest waves, Ô mother nature, to prey on the left pieces of my soul". Skies apart, Susan was driving at 200 km/h with one hand on a broken steering wheel, diving in a hail of vivid embers of her starless past up to her neck with countless rough snowflakes stuck in her throat. In dim shades, the tires were rolling across the wet streets swallowing up broken glass, crashing down breatheless cigarettes. She heard obscure voices coming in gasps, felt bloodshot eyes haunting her. Miles away, she saw the silhouette of her little angel running away, tripping in the mist, leaving loose ropes on the cold ground. And as she mindlessly ran the red light with both of her feet pressing the brakes in a rush, a startling shake came along, piercing her heart that was painfully sinking lower and lower to her stomach. Thus, her skull came headlong shattering her 1969 Ford Mustang glass, leaving countless bloody shards on all the sprawling highway and a spiral wreath made of petals, leaves and twigs, with no other breath to be exhaled nor other echo to be heard. Right here there was nothing left to figure … nothing left to hold on to except for a lost head hanging slowly on the right lane, sipping the cold warmth from its generous asphalt .
Siwar Bouabana
.Silent screams
Everything around her was a blur, thick and dark. The curtains of the cold room seemed for a moment just like prison bars capturing her inside. She tried to figure out where she was, how she ended up being here. But her memory wasn’t too much of an ally to her. Upon dying to let go with all of those oxygen annulas that were tying her hands so ruthlessly, chances kept slipping away from her reach. Something about the room puzzled her as if it were a racetrack holding untold strangers whose long sweeping motion was struck in a rush as they were jostling one another much as deplorable fools. A few steps away, there was a high-pitched wail that invaded the whole place, piercing her broken heart before her weary ears whom she was straining to catch the familiar sound for a lucid utterance and a clear sight. Later on, she felt a hand patting on her shoulder. She turned around and her eyes smiled from her cheeks as she caught her mum’s plain face wearing her usual warm grin.
-" Good morning little princess !" said she pulling her in and squeezing her hand twice, dripping with sweat as she was dodging her countless questions that she was soon swamped with.
After a terse talk, the five-year-old Abigail was a bit relieved, chuckling with a frail voice, when she knew that she just caught a light cold that will soon go away. But little did she know that fate has recently written down her name in a heart-wrenching storyline, soon to be written-off. As days glided past, Susan hit the ground running just to paint a soft smile on her little girl’s sallow face. She filled her hospital room with colorful ballons, hanged her favorite cartoon posters on every wall, kept her plastic dinosaurs in every corner then placed her small piano across the room so that she would bang its keys from time to time. And that’s how she turned that grisly hell into a lush paradise hoping it would add a few extra breaths for her princess in this unfair world.
With blue eyes red underneath and dark circles beneath, it was too embellished to learn that Susan had a big dark secret stitched beneath her tongue with no one to pull its weight with her. Only The walls leaned getting closer to squeeze her as she lied on the cold hard ground, pillowing the infinite ocean of her crushing disillusions. A brutal war was raging on inside of her. Hell gate broke loose, leaving her soul torn in ashes much as a cigarette butt stepped on. Deep down, it shaded all of her, that malignant colorectal Cancer that was preying on her one and only princess’s body just like a Kodiak bear brandishing its lethal claws at her face.
With no shoulder to cry on, she was wearing that sombre secret much as a choker necklace with thousands of words tied-up around her treacherous heart that was pumping sirens in every heavy beat breaking through her brittle ribs. As she was resting her elbows on her knees, the traits of her little girl ran fadingly through her mind : Her wispy side-swept fringe, coal black eyes, ruddy freckled cheeks and Azalea-like lips. Her screams came silent in the void of her midnights as the tidal waves of the wild ocean dragged her down, down onto the inky depths of her memory suitcase, filling her corrupted lungs and pummeling her messy brain with no hope of making it out alive, unless with a vivid scar run all across her slender silhouette. Sitting by the window with spaces roaming in her hot cup of coffee woven through her tiny fingers, the world outside seemed to make sense to Abigail’s young eyes through the astral dusk for the very first time. The stars were floating just like shimmering crystal shards glitter in the endless Blue. There was a flame of magic captured in each gleam. Once their spell haunted her spirit, a straggering thunderbolt roared tearing open a rift in the limitless sky, reminding her that this stardust is mere millions of subtle beads away from her reach, cutting through the heavenly milky way farther hundred miles. As she swept skies aligned with those dazzling diamonds, deeply, she heard a beckoning serenade echo through pouring raindrops dribbling from the celestial panaroma :" We are all born of stardust, that is rutedly gifted at the bottom of our fearless souls. The true challenge lies in dusting ourselves off and aiming at an eye-catching sparkle for an inebriant burst ! ". Even though that unwritten taboo was perfectly shrouded in secrecy, Abigail could easily tell that there was some mystery revolving around her little body, eating her alive piece by piece. Sometimes, it just felt like worlds above her shoulders. Amid this dismal labyrinth, she trod lightly counting her footsteps, praying that the rickety floor won’t fall through wrapping mightily around her delicate waist. As the ramifications came to limelight, her only solace was the endless flow streaming down her sallow cheeks. That grueling chemotherapy had plain stolen the light from her eyes, drained the glow of her visage and torn out her hair tufts by tufts. However, it was never strong enough to cast a shadow over her angelic smile. Wide-eyed in her countless sleepless nights, insistent questions crept into her mind. What if it was the last breath she exhaled so deeply in this world?. Would her body system fight for some other minutes to capture this mad mess in her chest forever tangled in her long nights?. And if it did, would she have a moment to raise her head up, look at the horizon and scream out loud so mindlessly that she may shake the ground beneath her feet?. But wouldn't the sun get so mad at her for shutting its own peace of mind?. wouldn't it curse her name, throw billions of embers at her devastated body and burn her broken heart ... just turn her all into crumpled-up scraps of paper merely like Autumn leaves?.
As years rolled around, our eight-year-old heartbeats came undone much as a rollercoaster slowing down the acme. Yet, her soft hands were still holding on to the dim light flickering at the end of her room tunnel. One night as everyone fell asleep, she seized the chance to travel back to the arms of her dear friend. Tiptoeing out of the hospital lobby with a brimming watering pot tangled around her palm, she walked into a little garden ... a thumbnail of Eden that dresses sun-kissed daisies to broken ribs, alignes steady beats to failing hearts. In the middle of a chaotic site, she was spinning in her gorgeous dress sewn Indigo, teleporting to the depths of her promised land. The phonograph behind the walls was yawning Bob Dylan's Blowin' in the wind, blooming flowers that were once withered on derelict walls. With admiring eyes and generous hands, she began her journey leaping from one budding rose to another, kissing the soft petals of every violet and filling her corrupted lungs with the refreshing fragrance of jasmines. Her mellow lullaby had her paradise heave a euphoric sigh of nostalgia. This intimate setting, for her, never embraced a tight-knit family only. Nevertheless, it held such a magnitude within her soul as it was her secret treasure, her getaway land. Enamored with her company, a snowy dove burst through the horizon spinning around in a flutter of peace, weaving a majestic symphony of love that she had always craved. Chained to the rhythm, Abigail sang along followed by a wave of leaves plucking the strings of an endless serenity, putting fire of hope into her brooding eyes, never to be quenched again and heralding glad tidings to her world long-built up with walls of gray. Yearning for a fresh start, she witnessed the sun stretching its rays all over that empty city, scorching the tin roofs and wiping off the dewy surfaces. Fleet of foot down the deep puddles, she crept into her room then crawled into her bed, hiding an assortment of flowers, leaves and twigs under her pillow with a thought up her sleeve. And in the middle of a light doze, she heard a wild echo of unfathomable words haunting her mind :"Nothing lasts forever" . It was that time when the last morsel was thrust down the throttles, the staid laughter was struck from the hearts. The sky was cloaked in sable, invoking bleak prophecies of death. As all hostage to the restless dream, Abigail was dying for a close glimpse of that mythic archaic library. That desolate plain of clefts that had all the city smatter about it, passing its intricate mystery through the prism of their endless speculations and writing down a history that fits perfectly the short insight of each. With an afire heart, our little spy crept out of the window mere moments before the sky would lay its silver moon bare at full. Far away, the leaves were restlessly rustling and the crickets were eagerly chirping, all in grace. A boarded up archway was the very first build that burst through the twilight for her agog eyes. As she barely climbed the high crossed fences that had her hospital gown all in shred, her tiny feet finally touched the bleak ground. A few steps ahead, a true enigma had the unfamiliar face puzzled : a lantern hanging at the endpoint, lofty in defiance of the run-out hourglass with its black color obliterated into shades of gray, grappling with the countless bricks long-trown at it as if it has always been mighty against the whole world. Yet still firm with its flickering light vowing to forever shine, but to never blind anyone. The moment that her ears caught the birds chirping outside, she dashed into the door, waded through the classic leather-bound books carelessly-thrown on the floor then snatched her black umbrella, heading back for her curtained prison. Yet, the chorus of the roaring woods drew her attention. She was gasping for the sweet perfume of mountain grass in the thick darkness with her cold hands tucked in a ragged jacket pockets. As the gusts of the rushing winds were hardly pushing her bare feet down the valley, the cold air seeped over her bald head and somehow found its way to her broken heart. Standing on a rugged cliff with a shrewd knowingness, she found herself crowned with a flock of vultures circling a dark giant cumulonimbus that soon morphed into a Kaleidoscope of screaming memories, forever alive in the back of her mind. Gripped by a wild hysteria, she broke down, in agony, miscarrying a shrill laugh that shook Tartarus beneath her feet as she had relived that excruciating pain. With her left fist clutching her silvery locket hanging from her neck, her heart was pounding out of her chest, skipping a couple of beats as she was staring at the sea glowing rosily in the dawn with flames burning within her brittle ribs. Across the slinky waves of high waters lapping against the rocks, a trawler glided past with its sail wavering in the gales. And in the soft light of the scattering sunrays, she trudged towards the ledge, said a prayer for gratitude for each chink in her armor, took a deep breath then threw herself headlong onto a rushing riptide, quite stripped from all her fears with a look on her face that emphatically says :" I brave your highest waves, Ô mother nature, to prey on the left pieces of my soul". Skies apart, Susan was driving at 200 km/h with one hand on a broken steering wheel, diving in a hail of vivid embers of her starless past up to her neck with countless rough snowflakes stuck in her throat. In dim shades, the tires were rolling across the wet streets swallowing up broken glass, crashing down breatheless cigarettes. She heard obscure voices coming in gasps, felt bloodshot eyes haunting her. Miles away, she saw the silhouette of her little angel running away, tripping in the mist, leaving loose ropes on the cold ground. And as she mindlessly ran the red light with both of her feet pressing the brakes in a rush, a startling shake came along, piercing her heart that was painfully sinking lower and lower to her stomach. Thus, her skull came headlong shattering her 1969 Ford Mustang glass, leaving countless bloody shards on all the sprawling highway and a spiral wreath made of petals, leaves and twigs, with no other breath to be exhaled nor other echo to be heard. Right here there was nothing left to figure … nothing left to hold on to except for a lost head hanging slowly on the right lane, sipping the cold warmth from its generous asphalt .
Siwar Bouabana
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