idea| Killing with Words
Into my dim and innocent chamber, she entered, without knocking. Even she didn’t speak one single word with me. She didn’t recognize my presence, but just came in! I didn’t care. I considered her not a whore, although every filthy detail suggested that. Who cares? She stayed there for a while and thoughts began to boil in my mind. Who is she? Where did she come from? Why did she come to me? O forget that!
By time I got used to her presence and silence. I recognized this latter being broken from time to time by uttering irrelevant letters, words, sentences, and texts. All the rubbish she said I discovered to be a vicious game played on the barren playground of my desire.
Unexpectedly, she caught my heart & mind. I turned to be her Romeo – She made my soul saturated by her satanic scent. I wasn’t much aware of the real nature of my beloved so I surrendered. A stream of hallucination, taking place in my closed essence. A sense of guilt. Suppression. A raging lion I became, being out of breath, and wanting to have his grip strongly put on his cunning prey. She introduced my thought to black magic. But is it so important to mention that?
Things from “outside” conspired with her. They formed a great team; both started to contact each other regularly. I neither found where the origin of that link is located, nor did I know how to deal with it. How can brains do that?!
Recently, I was subjected to the light of a sacred candle I found in a deserted temple. It gave me the power to decide. I saw her retreating, afraid of the beast in me which has been tamed. But, still, beasts are beasts.
Feeling the taste of success, I put my hands on her. “Darling, the time has come to tell me who you are.” I said, burning with carelessness. Like a corpse she behaved. “Mmm.. let’s see how I can make her confess” a soft voice within me shouted. I made her strip her fake cloths to see her on her truth. Not enough! Well, I turned to calm violence, which was effective. Therefore, her whorish language began to fade away and I started to sense few logical words in her dictionary, however, she refused to go any further. Who are you? Where did you come from? Why did you come to me? “O for God’s sake, don’t let me torture you.” I told her, with a smile on my face. I remember that nothing afterwards came out of her mouth except blood. I made my compassionate claws mark her everything – her body, her soul, her nerves, her emotions, and her mind. “Am I not a lenient lion?” I asked myself. My words didn’t kill her but I became happy for suffocating her nerves. “Ok this time you have survived, but I sear there will come a day when I will cut your throat, filthy beast!”
[كلمات مفتاحية] idea, insanity, lust, madness, prison [التصنيف] English
[ قرأها 255 ] [ نسخة للطباعة ]
3 قرّاء علّقوا على التدوينة بملء إرادتهم
I do respect what your saying, there is nobody or anything in this world which deserves to be worshiped but God. However I am afraid you completely misunderstood what I was trying to say in this short story.
The story is a description of an “experience” which many people undergo, often when they lack spirituality. In the past, I underwent such experience where certain ideas dominated my mind to an extent I wasn’t able to get rid of them, because on the one hand, I wasn’t much educationally mature and I lacked spirituality, and on the other hand, between “me and myself” I found pleasure in them. The woman which I talk about in the story is a metaphor for those dominating ideas; I don’t really know why I chose the “woman” where I could have chosen something else.
Now when someone wants to get rid of a harmful thing he likes, but doesn’t succeed, he surrenders and turns to be the worshiper of that thing. You may think of a cocaine addict as an example. If he doesn’t resist and strife to abandon it then he is a worshiper of cocaine, etc…
Of course it will be unrealistic to tell you that at this stage a person in such a situation will be pious & religious & strictly believe in “la ilah illa Allah”. Does it make any sense to you?
So, what’s the function of this short story? The answer is in it’s title: To kill that past, which I lived, with words (words = writing about that past). I derived that concept from psychology.
Finally, I would like to present few personal viewpoints on criticism in general, which you’re free not to adopt:
1- You’ll HARDLY find a text which has one viewpoint.
2- It’s better to say “I think” instead of “We” when commenting on a text, for what you say is ONLY your opinion and NOT the opinion of everybody (Sometimes wrong use of words may result in absurd meaning.)
3- An excerpt from any literary text may never be taken as the true message of that text. It’s the same in religion; some Quranic verses can never be interpreted solely without relating them to other verses. I am sure you know that. In addition, for the sake of reality and honesty it is necessary sometimes to give a literal account of what you’re talking about, or else a writer would be distorting facts and denying commonsense.
That’s all. I hope you enjoy reading my other writings.
Good luck.
and for the advice of not using the word “we”
(although I meant by “we”: the group of people who share with me the same principles)
We like to call your attention that this statement for instance is dangerous:
“But I turned to worship her later on”
We suppose you are a “brother” in islam, and as a muslim one shouldn’t say such statement.
Dear muslim brother,please learn, there’s no one that deserves to be worshiped but Allah.
This is the true meaning of : La Ilaha Illa Allah.
May ALlah lead you and eliaghten you.
Salam.