Black and White (Short Story – Part 3)

She tried to ask him again but then stopped. Maybe he needed sometime she thought. She waited until his tears went dry and his smile crawled up to his lips.

“Did you see the red color?” She asked quietly. “No!” He answered bluntly.
“Why were you crying then?” She asked back. “I… I felt overwhelmed.” He answered remotely. “What? Why?” She inquired.

He didn’t answer. All he did was waving his hand gently in front of her face and whispering: “Close your eyes and eat your cotton candy”.

She did as he said and as soon as tears started to slide out of her united eyelids he walked away slowly and silently.

Walking further away from the girl he could only hear her yelling and asking him where he went and why he left.

He arrived home and went directly to bed. He didn’t feel alright, everything was weakening him and ripping away his power. He laid down trying not to think of anything and faded away in his sleep.

“Fire is orange.”

He woke up repeating those words. They came out of nowhere in his dream. He squeezed his head trying to remember what he was dreaming about but all he could remember was darkness and those whispers about fire.

He got up, walked to his desk and pulled out a cigarette then grabbed the lighter and lit his cigarette.


That was what he heard in his dream. He lit up his lighter again and looked at the humble and little fire dancing on top. To him it was light grey. He looked closely then pulled it closer to his eyes.

He, suddenly, screamed and covered his burning and aching eyes. He hardened his fingers on his closed eyes and screamed louder. They hurt him so much. He couldn’t open them or the burning will increase.

He kept on screaming until he realized that the pain is gone.

He opened his eyes slowly. No pain. He closed his eyes then opened them again. No pain. It was gone and he felt relieved.

He thought some more sleep would help him relax. He walked toward his bed and stopped after few steps. They told him before that his bed is green but he never imagined green looked this good and bright. What is it? Is he seeing colors now? He couldn’t believe
himself. That blue carpet on the floor. That brown door at the entrance. That gold vase on that table. Colors were gorgeous. He screamed trying to scare the illusion away but it didn’t go. It was reality. The colors he was seeing were real. As real as his five skinny fingers in his right hand. He couldn’t believe it. He went out of his room running. He reached the street and started to hop from one spot to another. Trees were beautiful with their new green colors. He was the happiest person on earth. How can he not be and now he can see all the colors he ever wanted?

That girl was right. The cotton candy was magical. That girl? Oh he must tell her. He ran crazily to the park, seeking the circus. Entering the park, he realized that it was silent. He looked here and there. Nothing. The circus was gone. His enthusiasm went low as he thought he might not find that girl again.

He turned back to leave the park when he heard a scream coming from the other side of the park. Another scream blew again and he started running toward the source. The screams got louder as he was getting closer. And he saw the girl. She was fighting with two robber. One of the robbers was holding a knife and waving it in her face while the other robber was trying to pull out what was in her handbag.

He shouted and screamed at the robbers and ran toward them. When they saw him running their way, the robber with the knife stabbed the girl and ran away while the second robber pushed the girl down to the floor and pulled what he could of money out of her bag dropping a few dollars on the ground while running away.

All that mattered back then was to save the girl. He ran faster to reach her and maybe he can save her. A few meters away from the girl, he stopped. That terribly red blood was sprouting out of her chest in a fascinating speed. it was red but agonizing. He got closer to her. He sat next to her, held her head and tried to wake her up. That red blood seems so evil. It was draining her life away.

He started to cry and looking away. If colors were as fierce and evil as the girl’s blood he doesn’t want to see colors anymore. He looked away. He looked away and where the robbers headed. He thought of running after them, avenging the girl, but then he saw the money that one of the robbers dropped. It was green. Money on the floor was green. That green was evil too. Unbelievable. Now that he is able to see colors, things turned out to be evil and deadly.

He closed his eyes. He doesn’t want to see colors again. He just doesn’t want them anymore. He wants his peaceful black and white world again. He opened his eyes and looked at the girl. She is dead now, her red blood is getting dry and the green money is still on the ground. It hurt him. He screamed. He screamed louder and louder until his voice was gone.

It was like his mind was shut down. His face turned hard. He let go of the girl and stood up. Raising his hands to his face, he saw the blood on his hands and went into a frenzy.

Not thinking and unconsciously he started to hit his face. He kept on his his face and his eyes. He just wanted to take the colors out and they were not leaving. There was only one way. Hitting his eyes was not enough, he put the tips of his fingers on his eyes and started to push as hard as he could until his skin was wounded. He didn’t stop, he then started pulling his eyes until he couldn’t handle the pain anymore. But, death was more painful. He kept on pulling and disconnecting his eyes completely.

And everything went dark. No more eyes to see colors and no clue what to do next except walking endlessly.

He kept on walking until he suddenly bumped into someone.
“I am sorry.” He managed to speak out of his pain.
“But, I am sorry, stranger.” The old woman he bumped into replied.
“I didn’t hear you coming, I am sorry again.” He apologized.
“You needed no ears to hear me coming, stranger.
What you had was a blessing, and what you couldn’t see was a bigger blessing. It is a shame that you have wasted that.”
She yelled and went away silently leaving him standing alone with no clue at all.

The End

Black and White (Short Story – Part 2)

He was running on the road like crazy. He stumbled upon a rock and fell to the ground with his cheek perfectly uniting with the asphalt. At this level, he saw the rain drops falling and the so many shy and sparkling bits were glittering before hitting the ground. It was perfect. He, then, remembered the lightening. He stood up and ran faster. He kept running until he reached his desired destination. And nothing was there. It was all gone. The colors he somehow managed to see were gone. Nothing but a small hole in the ground. Disappointment conquered his facial details. Turning back home, he bumped into a young lady who just arrived to his spot. She startled him and made him freeze in place.

“Where are they?” she asked.

“Are they gone?” She insisted.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“The black and white dust, where did it go?” She asked again.

“What black and white dust?” He asked in confusion.

“Ah, never-mind.” She replied.

She turned back and started to walk when he suddenly realized what she was talking about. He ran to her and stood right in front of her.

“Did you see them in black and white? The Rays, were they black and white to you?” He asked with enthusiasm.

“Forget about it, it was just an illusion, I guess.” She turned him down.

“No, it wasn’t. Do you have a problem with your eyes? Do you not see colors?” He asked happily, thinking he found someone like him.

“No dear, What I don’t see are Black and White.” She answered.

“Amazing. I don’t see colors.” He commented.

“I guess you are as fortunate as I am then.” She answered and walked away, not leaving the man with any chance to talk again.

He went back home with sadness all over his tears. That night confusion laid on his pillow as he desperately tried to sleep.

Many nights passed. Many rainy nights, and not one single hit of lightening visited again.

Winter was coming to an end and so were his hopes. He surrendered to his destiny and let go of the whole idea. Colors were never meant to visit his eyes. Colors will never be a part of his world.

With sadness, he took his cigarettes pack and went down the road walking silently. He kept walking and smoking relentlessly until some kind of musical noise approached his hearing. It was a circus. Right in the middle of a beautiful dark grey park. A park which trees were black and grass was grey. And the circus was there. Just there. He entered and started marking the smiles that everyone there was putting on face.

“Hey, black and white guy!” a female voice came from behind.

He turned around and the smile replaced his dry lips at that moment. It was that girl. The girls who only saw colors.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I was trying to have some fun. What about you?” She asked back.

“Well, I don’t know. I just arrived and thought I might wander around a bit.” He answered.

“Oh then, hope you have fun.” She answered and turned around leaving.


Do… Can… Can you help… me?” He asked.

“Help you with what exactly?” She murmured.

“Make me see colors. You might be the only one who understand what this means. I need colors. I want to color my life. Please!” He answered begging.

“Dear, I have no idea how to make that happen.” She blocked him.

“Please, just try!” He begged again.

She thought for a moment and looked around then said:

“Come, I have an idea.”

She grabbed him and started walking until they reached a Cotton Candy Kiosk. She gave some money to the vendor and bought 2 sticks of colored cotton candy spheres. She, then, handed in one stick to him and took the second.

“Here you go. Take this, its red.” She implemented.

“I see it as black…” He replied with disappointment.

“Oh, just taste it dear. It is magical.” She smiled.

He smelled it first, looked the girl in the eyes and grabbed a tender bite of the candy stick.

His facial expressions softened in a way that felt like he was traveling out of this world. He smiled and closed his eyes. He took another bite and opened his eyes.

The girl was excited but all of a sudden was shocked when he opened his eyes and saw the tears popping out of them.

“What? Do you see it?

Do you see the red?

Whats wrong?

Why are you crying?

Do you see it?

Do you?” She asked repeatedly while he kept eating and crying.

To be continued…

Black and White (Short Story – Part 1)

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” He exhaled heavily, stood up, left the room and closed the door behind him silently.

He was so tired of trying with no luck. It has been years of trying and trying with no luck at all.

He is different. He is not lost among options. He only has two extremes to worry about. Black and White. He was born with a fault in his eyes, Monochromacy. No one noticed at first, no one knew he couldn’t see colors, no one until he once named the red color black.

His parents went to different doctors, tried many kinds of medicine but he couldn’t know what the word “colors” meant. He was doomed to stay like this for the rest of his life.

Now he is all grown up, ready to exploring life in every available aspect but without colors. It was long ago when he forgot and became desperate about colors. It really didn’t matter to him. Life was really nice and peaceful. He could sort out things the way that suited him best. It is just that others keep worrying and feeling sorry for him. Why don’t they just go solve their own problems? At this point, he locked his door and went walking on the street.

He was told that these grey tree are actually green. He was told that this light grey sky is actually light blue. And, he concluded that those roses in that shop are not originally black, but they are colored.

It was corky though. The idea seemed to be appealing somehow to him. How would things look like if they were colored? Will colors hurt his eyes? Will he be forced to close his eyes when any colors hits his eye? He must find out. He must see life in full colors.

And for this exact reason, he came to this so called “Magician”. They told him that this magician can make him see colors, but they were wrong. He was born this way. If it was

meant for him to see his life in colors, he would have been born as a very normal person with a normal vision.

On his way, wandering on the streets, he bumped into an old beggar. An old woman with a face wrinkled by time so brutally. What actually drew his attention was her eyes. She was blind, but her eyes were so penetrating to his soul. Clear greyed out eyes. He could swear that she looked into his heart and saw his agony. He approached her and sat on the floor in front of her.

“Welcome stranger!” she said.
“Can you see me?” he said.
“I can see through you, if that is what you mean.” she replied.
He sighed, bent his head and said: “ And I thought you could help me… but I guess you need help more than I do.”
“Young man, we all need help, and we all can help as well.” She commented.
“I envy you, old lady.” he murmured.

“And I envy you in return, young man. What you see is a blessing, and what you can’t see is a bigger blessing.” she stated.
“The last thing I need right now is wisdom.” He pulled himself together and started walking away.

“What you seek is in you, just embrace it…” she yelled back and raised her head up to the sky.

He arrived home, tired and grumpy. What is in him that he is searching for? How on earth he can make himself see colors? That old creepy lady and her wisdom…

Tucking himself into bed, he couldn’t but press the sides of his head with fingers, squeezing the headache away. And then he fell asleep.

His sleep was not a nice journey at all that night. He dreamt of colors, so many amazing and breathtaking colors. But to him, they were all black. He dreamt of being shot, by a

black gun, that sent a grey bullet to his heart, leaving a hole with traces of black gunpowder on the edges. It pained him, it hurt him, it made him scream and wake up. He woke up and screamed more. He screamed until his voice left him with a mouth wide open and silent. He got up and out of his bed.

It was raining that night and thunder rumbled in the sky. He lit up a cigarette and went out to the balcony of his room. Rain drops were fast. They splashed heavily on the ground. His headache stroke again, and while closing his eyes in pain, one of the rain drops splashed on the ground reflecting a color that he never saw before. It startled him, a glimpse of a color that didn’t last for more than a second. His eyes froze, his breath paused, and he became all focused on the ground. Thunder rumbled and lightening stroke in a place that is not far from him. He looked at the point where the silver lightening fell. His heart almost stopped at what he saw. Dusty fragments of colors were flying up to the sky. It was something that he never saw before. It was not black, it was not white and certainly it was not grey.

As fast as a bullet, he entered his room, grabbed his jacked and umbrella and ran out of his room to the source of colors he saw.

To be continued…

Notebook (Short Story – Part 1)

A police officer inspecting a room with a floor floating with pink water and numerous tiny bits of burnt papers.

An old man looking cautiously at the police office when all of a sudden the officer turned to the old man and asked for a reminder of what happened.

“There were so much screaming and sounds of pain in the room. Me and the lady outside went out of our houses at the screaming sounds in the room and came knocking on the door. When there was no response to our knocks, I started to break in. “ The old man declared.

“And what did you find when you broke in?” The officer interrupted the old man.

“It was a total mess in here. Blood all over the floor, water spraying around from the roof, papers burning and a pair of boots in the middle of the room. We searched the whole room and we couldn’t find the young man. Maybe we were hallucinating when we heard the screaming, but this mess??!” The old man answered.

“Hallucinating, huh? And the blood just sprout out of the cobble???” The officer mocked the old man.

“Sir, I’m just telling you what happened with us. I am not making anything up, officer.” The old man objected.

“Oh, well, you are old, and that is enough for me. Supposedly, the young man will show up after all to clean his own mess. Get out please and keep an eye in the future.” The officer turned away from the old man and left the room.

The old man looked slyly at the leaving officer, went to the door and locked it firmly. He took off his slippers, put them on the wooden desk and started humming a soft melody while waving his hands in the air with the melody.

The melody stopped, “And you thought I would never help you, my friend” the old man mumbled slowly while sprinting to a corner of the room, moved the little dry plant away and removed the top of a steal sewer.

Suddenly all the blood that turned into pink water and the burnt pieces of the notebook ran magically to the sewer opening and started to pour in.

“There you go… Have a nice life, my friend.”

To be continued…

Notebook (Short Story – Part 3)

Hardly crawling out of the bathroom, he had to recline on his elbows for his hands turned powerless. It was blood all over the ground. He was swimming in his own blood when he realized that his crawling is peeling his skin off. He looked back to see some skin of his arms and legs floating on the pool that was feeding on his blood.

He cried. He cried so hard that he fainted after a few moments and a few tears…

It was dark when he woke up again. Pain was roaming all over his body, a pain that was more like fire burning him from the inside. He wanted to scream, to call for help, but his voice abandoned him long time ago. He choked on the word “help” and despair overwhelmed him directly.

He pulled the strings of his strength from every inch of his body to crawl out of the bathroom. It hurt him so much but the desire to get out and seek help made him endure the severe pain. He kept on crawling, he didn’t even stop to check the hair that was falling off his head now. Hair didn’t matter now, breathing mattered more.

He crawled harder and harder to reach his small desk in his room. He tried to stand up but failed at the first attempt. He cried. He started to hit the bottom of his desk until a notebook fell down on his head, pulling his ear off. At the sight of his ear right next to him, he went on a frenzy and started to scream and hitting his desk harder and harder. His pack of cigarettes and lighter fell off to the ground in front of him. What the heck should he do with a pack of cigarettes?

Thunder stroke again and a harder squeak came along to meet a sever pain in his legs. It felt like they were burning. “Burning”, the word came to him like a crystal drop of water after a long time thirst. And he knew what to do for help.

He grabbed his lighter from the ground with what’s left of his right hand and grabbed his notebook with the remaining strength and bones of his left hand. He took a deep breath and within his pain, he found strength to light up his lighter. He moved his lighter enough to reach the notebook to burn it. The smoke must trigger the fire alarm and someone, anyone would come to his help.

The damned notebook burned slowly as his pain was growing rapidly. Desperation crawled to his body and mind and he started to faint. Then, suddenly, the fire alarm went on and started to scream for his aid. His consciousness was fully back now as water  sprayed all over the room while he enjoyed the voices yelling at his door. But his pain was severe that he couldn’t but check his legs. His pain was not even as severe as the terror he felt at what he saw. The spraying water was melting his body.

He started to scream as people outside were trying to break the door to get in. His legs are gone now, his screams are getting lower now, and it is his waist now that was melting. He cried again, screamed, and cried again and again. Why can’t they just break the door and get in before he is completely gone?

He was losing hope when he turned to look at his door for the last time.

The door was finally broken, and then it was moving open when darkness conquered his eyes and he was all gone…


Somewhere, in a place where no one walks at night, a dark ally, at the first right turn in the street, had a lamp that barely works with a very low light . It has always been hanging on the wall of the facing building.

That dark ally had a moderate sewer opening, with a barred top on it. The opening was making weird sounds, creepy sounds mixed with some pain and a lot of agony.

It was exactly the middd of the night when some pink water started to spurt out of the opening until the whole ally floor was soaked with this pink water accompanied with the usual creepy sound and a huge amount of tiny bits of burnt papers. When the water flow stopped, sudden silence conquered the place, and then nothing happened.

At dawn, sun-rays started to occupy the place, blowing darkness away. Sun-rays hit the wall, and with the sun slowly moving toward the middle of the sky, the rays went down to hit the floor. At this moment, the odd pink water turned into clear colorless water while the pink color was crawling to the center of the ally. Clear water went dry and pink turned to bloody red as the burnt pieces of the notebook were gathering next to the blood pool.

No one was there to witness the blood that started to become thicker and taking the shape of a human body. It kept on acting this way until it completely transformed into a human body with flesh and bones.

The naked man on the floor opened his eyes slowly. Light hit his eyes hard as no eyelashes existed yet. He felt cold and lonely, but happy and relieved. He doesn’t remember anything, he doesn’t know anything, he only knows that this old notebook with the burnt edges next to him actually belongs to him and will always be with him as long as he is alive.

And there, right there, at the end of the ally, a new pair of boots rested peacefully, awaiting the new comer to walk a new path in a new life.

The End

Notebook (Short Story – Part 2)

Heavy thunder broke into his dream, scattered its beauty like broken glass, and he woke up. Rolling his eyes in the surrounding darkness, he couldn’t but wait to get used to it.

It wasn’t raining!

If it wasn’t raining, then, where did that thunder come from?

Was it really thunder? Or was it a roar? But he lives high in this building that no roar of any wild animal can be heard…

He closed his eyes trying to go back to sleep, but something that squeezed his heart made his eyes scream as wide as a wild sea. Then, it went back to normal after a heavy exhale, making his heart play its beats again. His body trembled endlessly, his lips shivered with the speed of a dying man and his fists became as solid as rocks.

It was everything in him that turned solid. He still felt the blood running through every bit of his shivering body. At that thought, everything went back to normal. He is relaxed again and his eyes are so heavy that he can fall asleep in a few seconds.

He roughly shook his head, kicking away the weight that invaded his eyelashes. He doesn’t want to go back to sleep with the pain he is holding within right now. It doesn’t hurt him, but he feels its presence, he feels the pain. Or maybe it wasn’t pain, it was some kind of agony getting back at him every now and then.

With those thoughts playing the strings of his mind, he got up, scrubbed his heavy head with his hands and pulled a tissue from the side of his bed to wipe some sweat drops on his forehead. It was weird anyway, he never had such thick sweat before, he thought, but maybe those drops get thicker as his thoughts get heavier.

He walked toward the toilet, turned on the lights and headed to the sink for a quick wash. Stretched his hand to the tap, and stopped with a shock. His whole body froze for a few seconds.

It was blood on his hands. That red slow liquid on his hands must definitely be blood. Where did it come from now and he just woke up?

Looking up at the mirror, the fear that portrayed his face now is replaced with terror. One side of his face is covered with blood, just like an eclipse caused by a bloody sun. He turned on the tap and started to each his face and hands. The pouring water turned red and the white sink is now pointed with pink spots. He washed his face quickly and got closer to the mirror. His face was still the same, not a single wound.

Where did that blood come from? He shook his head again, this time kicking away the heavy thoughts that crashed his brain.

He turned off the lights and went back to bed. He must have been dreaming or probably hallucinating. His face is clear and totally free of any scratch. “What’s happening to me?” He mumbled with an agonized cry and closed his eyes thinking of an end. An end to something, anything! Maybe, the end of his constant rigid feelings, or maybe, his life.

And the heavy thunder broke into his dream again tearing apart his tender eyelids.

He opened his eyes and listened carefully. Will that thunder strike again? His pupils ran on every side of his eyes as if trying to catch something in darkness. It wasn’t thunder this time, he was sure. It was a heavy sound, a loud sound, but it was in his head.

He raised his hand up to his face and a warm drop fell off to his lips. It startled him at first, but then it tasted like iron. It was blood again. On his hand, again. He jumped in no time to his bathroom, turned on the lights and checked his face out in the mirror. No blood on the face, but only on the hand. He started washing his hand, cleaning all the running blood.

He examined his hand thoroughly. The Palm was clean, but the tips of his fingers were torn apart, creaked at the top like a line connected on every fingertip. It was a knife cut, but how did this cut happen?

Thunder stroke again… No! Wait, it was a heavy squeak blowing in his head. It was a painful one. Another squeak stroke and his arms hurt like fire. He took off his shirt only to be shocked with what he saw. His arms were creaked from the shoulder to the tips of each finger. It was like his body became dry and started to fall apart. He could see his own bones within these wounds.

Right at that moment, blood exploded out of his wounds like a fountain, splashing the blood drops around him. He put his hands on his arms to block the blood from popping outside, only to make it worse. The blood popped out of his fingers as well. He was losing blood rapidly that he became dizzy and fell down to the ground.

His head hit the ground and thunder stroke harder another time. It was met by a harder squeak in his head. He screamed so loud and with his voice coming out, his teeth fell out of his mouth. The sound of his teeth hitting the solid ground under him hurt his ears as needles hurt the skin.

He screamed again, louder and louder until his scream was interrupted by blood coming out of his mouth. He was losing so much blood, he must call an ambulance.

To be continued…

When She Smiled

When she smiled, his whole life smiled back. She meant the whole world to him, but he never knew why! She was his dream girl, and she dreamt a lot. He rolled back in time remembering when he first met her…

A girl walking on the road wearing a fabulous smile. She smiled at everyone, she smiled at him and that’s when he fell for her. Why did she smile that much? How happy was she to smile? That night barely had its minutes rolling. He searched for sleep among all the questions roaring about her in his head, but the roaring was much louder. He barely noticed the alarming agreement between sun rays and morning light to sneak into his room. That day was never like any other day that passed before, it was the day to start with a shiny smile. The idea was enough to dust the night off his eyes, and get ready to meet that fascinating smile.

His foot steps were uncertain, his heart almost stayed behind, but only his determination went along for this curious adventure. The bus stop was near and empty. Had she passed by already? No, his world deserved a smile that day and he was good enough to earn such a loving smile. He arrived early and time conspired with its own moments to pass slower than ever…

Steady footsteps came from behind, and he smiled. He turned back to welcome the queen of his smiling world, but he was mistaken. Those steps were the company of a young man disturbing his world. Suddenly, steps started to pay his surrounding more frequent visits. There was an old lady passing with her slow footsteps, that was the young student sliding his bag behind him, and there she came. Her smile was more shiny than the bright sun. Her eyes mesmerized him, his determination took over control of his legs, and he waited for her to reach him. She looked at him, her eyes questioning and her smiling more persistent…

His words choked in his throat, and he couldn’t speak. He only stared and focused on her smile. He tried so hard to speak, but his lips were as if stapled with silence. She waited for a moment, but he never spoke, then she left.

When she left, she took his smile with her. He never smiled again, and she never knew what was going on.

He, also, never knew that her smile resided only on her lips and not in her heart. He never knew that she will be leaving this life soon, and all that she wanted was to be remembered with a smile. She was hoping that her smile would reach a writer someday, and that writer would be fascinated by that smile. It would conquer his heart and his mind. And he would finally write about it in one of his writings.

She never knew if her goal was ever achieved.
She never knew if her smile was the center of a bunch of words.
She never knew if she will be remembered or not…

Breaking the Silence “3 of 3”

The thick door thundered violently, announcing the beginning of a cruel isolation. His elbows were free again, but he was tied up with darkness. Standing in the middle of nowhere, he stretched his hands and moved them in every direction. His eyes scattered into pieces. His hands found nothing to touch and his eyes met no gaze but darkness. That’s it. He was locked up forever. This dark room was made for those who became forgotten, and he is now abandoned. His ears longed for nothing but a sound to hear, but there wasn’t anything at all. He was abandoned; his senses left him to suffer alone, and only his blood remained faithful to him as it marched through his head like an army determined to crash every obstacle on the way.

Her face flashed in head and he screamed. His eyes dug the surrounding darkness for any ray of light, but it was too dark even for hope to exist. He screamed. His knees went weak on him and he fell down.

Suddenly, he parted up from the floor and listened carefully. Soft humming carried his name along and a far ray of light came to life. That was not the hope he waited for. The ray of light grew bigger while it approached him. It carried a face, a loving angry face. Oh, he missed her so much, he felt. But something was not right. Those were not her eyes that sprinted with joy. Those were the eyes she wore when he gifted her the way out of life. Those lips were mumbling, and he couldn’t understand them just like the mumbling he didn’t understand when he helped her depart from this life. Those lips were moving fast, they pleaded him to understand. His heart went silent when that face moved toward the door. The face was telling him something and he couldn’t understand. He ran after it, but it disappeared without a trail to follow. He called her name, he shouted, and he yelled but she was gone again. “Let me out” he begged. “Grant me light” he cried. “I loved her” his tears splashed on the palm of his trembling hands. “She wanted to go away, to leave” his odd voice betrayed his sudden silence. His tears went dry, his palms wiped agony away from his face as he stood up and started to run. He must get out, he must leave this place, and he must go beg her for forgiveness. He ran and bumped into a wall that sent him back to the floor. He got up and ran again only for his heart to touch the floor beneath. He lost his mind. He got up and ran again. The sweetness of his blood tasted bitter when merged with agony. And he ran again and again until his strength surrendered to the floor and forced him to swallow his defeat. He couldn’t explain it, but darkness was getting darker, the room was spinning, his lips were mumbling, and his body was struggling. His ears failed to warn him, the door was opened, and the guards dressed in white came to him. They dressed him in white while denying him the sleeves and carried him away out of the white room that hosted him on its floor.

His eyes panicked and refused the sudden disturbing light in the passage; only to grow wide at the site of her crying eyes next to his mother’s bleeding eyes. The line that connected his confused gaze with their cries stretched until it broke when she hugged his mother and cried with pain as they took him to depart alone.

Breaking the Silence “2 of 3”

He was running, looking back every now and then, falling down, getting up, and running faster. Every breath he took called the next one so fast, he barely breathed enough.

He opened his eyes to find himself in his bed, sweat drew maps on his face, and his bed was shaking in harmony with his trembling body. And then he calmed down, convincing himself that this nightmare will not be a sign of a bad day. It was just a reflection of what he witnessed back then. He closed his eyes, remembering every detail he absorbed. A lot of details, scattered here and there like a field that is barely hosting few bundles of flowers here and there.

On that couch was the gun. On that table was the brief note she left. On that carpet was her blood, coloring the carpet with years of a life that ended on a desperate moment. She wanted her suffering to end, he gave her a hand in that, but she left this world for good, and she will not be able to return the favor. That left him no choice. He must disappear. That note was enough to clear him out in front of everyone, but not himself. He helped her out in this, and he was only helping. He couldn’t deny her an end of suffering.

Picking his scattered pride and fear, he left the room silently and started to walk back home. He must hide his feelings, and act like he never committed her suicide.

Getting out of bed and opening the door to leave his room was to him like abandoning his fortified castle and facing the unknown, but he was embraced with the warmth of his mother’s eyes. That pained him so much. What if something happened and his actions were exposed? How would he meet the disappointment in those loving eyes? No one would ever imagine how hard he wanted to be a child again, to throw his head in his mother’s lap and cry his fear out.

A hard knock on the door moved his heart from its place. He wanted to scream, but the choke of his throat prevented him from pleading his mother not to answer that knock. And it was too late. They came in, running, as if he was a bird that needed to be captured before it flew away. His strength betrayed him, his body was carried by the harsh hands of those guards. Terror overwhelmed his body, prevented him from hosting the pain of being thrown in that iron-fenced vehicle. He stared through the iron bars, and the line that connected his sight to his mother’s started to stretch as the vehicle moved. Only her screams kept his company at first, then it was only the roaring of the vehicle that carried captivity on its back wherever it went. His house kept on growing smaller and smaller until it faded away. That made him alone and surrounded by guardians of fear.

Like an ignorant sheep being taken to slaughter, he was directed through the dark alleys only to sit on a cold iron chair and facing a man wearing a frown that carried all the cruelty of the world. This frown was the crown of two bright eyes that couldn’t be any darker. Those eyes demanded one thing. Only one thing. A confession…

Breaking the Silence “1 of 3”

They asked him to confess…

He grouped his fingers together, tightened his shoulders, and ducked his head. What do they want him to confess about? He didn’t know. Searching the roof corners for an answer, he opened his mouth, but words didn’t come out. They thought he was stalling and he thought they were pressuring him. “Lock him up” a scream exploded in the cold room, with anger radiating more than a nuclear bomb does. Two guards grabbed his elbows and buried him inside the four walls. He tried so hard to wake up, but it wasn’t a nightmare. It was a reality that tasted more bitter than pain itself. The cruel iron wall screamed before blending in with the walls. He roamed the room, chose the wall that faced the failing attempt of what they called a window. There was still some daylight. If they finished with him early, he can manage to go back home and pretend nothing had happened. No one would know about this, only if he got out on time.

They called him back again. The screamed harder this time, as if it hated being apart from the walls. As if it wanted his company for ever. Grabbed by his elbows again, he ducked his head, and threw his tears down as he walked forward. Maybe he will follow them back to his cell.

They sat him on that naked iron chair. IT was as hard and cold as the eyes of the one who was waiting for him to confess. His lips refused to split up, his voice denied his authority and left him to suffer alone. They waited for his words to come out, and waited for the confession. His eyes focused on the floor under his feet, he folded his hands and sighed. They sighed back. The man with the hard voice got up from his chair, and left the room. That was not a good sign. He didn’t order his men to take him back to his cell, then why is he being grabbed by his elbows again and again???

There was the last drop of tears that he left on the floor. Why then were they taking him? That passage was dark, too dark, but his eyes embraced the darkness, only to make it worse. That passage ended with a door. An iron thick door, that looked like it was made only to open once for every soul coming through. They stopped. One of the guards moved forward, worked his hands thoroughly, and with massive strength, the door finally opened. The darkness inside was darker than all the black ideas that took shelter in his head. The guard that opened the door retreated quickly, and the one next to him pushed him forward. As if the guards feared that door as well. As if that door saved severe agony behind it, only to serve it to its unique trembling guests.

He was pushed harder, and forward until they threw him inside. This door screamed as well. Screamed louder and harder than any agonizing wound. The door united with the walls, thundering a slam like no other. It was silence that conquered his ears inside, only to be disturbed by his rapid heartbeats and consecutive attempts to breath. The passage was empty. The thick door was peaceful, stable and strong enough to terminate every and any voice attempting to break the silence…