Accéder au contenu principal

Whistle

Artiste : Wissal Boulouah

The little kid was blowing on his little plastic toy, letting out loud shrieking whistles. His mom, having a migraine from a long day of house chores, told him to stop whistling because it will bring demons his way. The kid didn’t believe his mom. Why would demons step into a house with quran playing the whole time? Why would demons dare approach a neighborhood that has a big mosque and an old, long bearded Imam? When his mom couldn’t bear the noise anymore, he took his toy and ran out of the house to call his friends out to play. 

The street was empty but from some old men playing cards on the café's table. The kid called his friends, but they were all busy with homework or napping the afternoon away. He walked around, whistling and whistling, waiting for a friend, or even a demon, to keep him company. The sun was scorching hot, and the humid air suffocating. The kid didn’t notice the silhouette following him around, waiting for the opportunity to attack. A hand came out of nowhere and held the kid’s arm in a bruising grasp, and before he could scream for help, another hand was on his small mouth, stopping him. His whistling toy fell to the ground, and he struggled to escape the embrace of the stranger, that was way older than him, way stronger. 

And while the stranger’s fingers crept downwards, the kid wondered if this was the demon his mom warned him about.


Marwa Daman
I read to feel better about the world, I write to feel better about myself.

Commentaires

Enregistrer un commentaire

Posts les plus consultés de ce blog

À ceux qui rêvent de bottes mal cirées, de veston médiocre et de chapeaux bas-de-forme (2)

    Le videur me scrute avec ce regard d’homme habitué à voir les âmes chavirer. Il n’a pas besoin de parler. Son corps massif est une injonction silencieuse : l’heure est venue de quitter ce refuge de misère, d’aller s’effondrer ailleurs. Je lui rends un sourire absent, un rictus d’homme qui sait qu’il n’a plus rien à perdre. J’ai dépassé l’heure où l’on tolère les âmes trop pleines de regrets. Alors je me lève, lentement, comme si la nuit elle-même pesait sur mes épaules. Mon verre est vide, ma poche aussi. Je jette quelques pièces sur la table, mais elles ne font qu’un bruit sourd, comme un écho lointain. Dehors, la nuit s’étire, indifférente. La brume danse sur les pavés humides, et les réverbères projettent des ombres déformées sur les façades. L’air sent le bois mouillé et le charbon, un parfum d’hiver qui s’attarde. J’enfonce mes mains dans les poches de ma redingote élimée et me laisse avaler par la rue. Les pavés brillent sous l’humidité, scintillent comme s’ils reten...
Enregistrer un commentaire
Read more »

Dirty Work

  It was never supposed to get this complicated. The goal was pretty clear, with a plan that left no room for mistakes or last minute changes. She would summon a demon, he would help her get rid of her bully, and her high school life would finally be less of a nightmare. She got her ritual down to the tiniest of details, bought everything she would need, and started the meticulously crafted event. For someone that came from a lineage of witches, this was easy for her, almost natural. The low-grade demon was eager to serve her, and he did a perfect job, killing the jock and disposing of his body so that nobody would be able to find him, or pin the incident on her. The thing is, she forgot how clingy these creatures can get once they’ve done you a favour.  The demon refused to leave her side, waking up with her and following her to school, back home, out with friends and back in the confines of her own bed. He sat on her shoulder, his weight light yet insistent, whispering in he...
Enregistrer un commentaire
Read more »
TRIGGER WARNING : SUICIDE, BODY DYSMORPHIA  ليلةَ أمس أصابني أرق شديد منعني من النوم حتى السادسة صباحاً ومن شدة بؤسي أني سمعت أصوات العصافير النشيطة قبل نومي، الثانية عشر ظهراً يرِنُّ المنبه للمرة المئة وأنا مُتظاهرٌ أني لا أريدُ سماعهُ، أنظرُ له بنصف عين ثم أعود إلى غفوتي، أخيراً أيقظني الجوع من السبات، نظرتُ إلى الخزانة لا يوجدُ أي لباسٍ مرتب، ألم أرتب خزانتي من قبل؟ نظرتُ إلى نفسي في المرآة، فشعرت ببعض القبح، ما هذه السمنة المفرطة؟ لماذا شكلي هكذا؟ تباً للجينات التي أحملها، الثانية بعد الظهر متوجهٌ إلى أقرب مطعم من أجل الإفطار، الثالثة بعد الظهر عدت إلى المنزل بعد جولة في شوارع المدينة شعرت فيها بالازدراء حيث كانت نظراتُ الناس لي غريبة، ومن شدة الانزعاج اخذت علبة السجائر بدأت بالتدخين بشكل مفرط، الخامسة عصراً، لدي إختبار في نهاية الأسبوع لكن الدروس كثيرة والأستاذ دائماً ما يطلب مني أن أحلق شعري المجعد، الدرسُ الأول عنوانهُ غريب، للأسف نسيت القهوة تغلي، هذه الحياة ليست لي، الخامسة وربع بعد تنظيف المكان من القهوة المحروقة، يطرق أبي الباب فتحتُ له أحضر لي بعض الطعام وأخب...
Enregistrer un commentaire
Read more »