Sarab_A Novel by Raja Alem & Leri Price

Author:Raja Alem & Leri Price [Alem, Raja & Price, Leri]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789774168765
Amazon: 9774168763
Publisher: Hoopoe
Published: 2018-10-16T00:00:00+00:00

Unseen Ghosts

That night, in her sleep, Sarab was slowly drawn out onto the rooftop. Bewildering whispers made her look down at her feet, and she saw a large, dark stain sticking to them like a second shadow. At once she knew it was traces of dried blood she hadn’t noticed before. Something in the air was making her eyes sting and she wiped away tears as she tried to focus on the stain, which slowly began to turn dark red, then to pulse and gradually condense, until it took the shape of human bodies. Seven girls ranging in age from two to twelve years old poured forth; laughing and holding hands, they formed a circle and began to go round. The youngest snatched Sarab’s hand without warning and dragged her to join in their game.

Suddenly, gunfire broke out around them; it came from the tallest minaret in the Grand Mosque, where Sayf had been stationed throughout the siege.

Sarab knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was Sayf who was firing. She shouted at him over the rooftops to stop. She raised her voice as the bullets rained down and the girls fell, screaming, into their own blood. Everything was happening in slow motion. Their round-faced mother loomed in the background, bearing witness to the scene while voices urged her not to look, to leave the girls to be buried.

Sarab was screaming hysterically, surrounded by the still-bleeding bodies, when Raphael’s hand pulled her out of the nightmare.

She sat up, staring at the blackened spot where she still saw the girls writhing. The bodies she had seen in the Grand Mosque were nothing in comparison with those young girls, bleeding to death forever. Their blood stirred and became a wave, which descended on the quivering Sarab as she finally emerged out of the nightmare.

“There were children in this house . . .” That meaningless comment remained on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to convey what she had seen to Raphael, what that spot represented. She needed someone else to share the ghosts that haunted the silent roof terrace.

Suddenly she caught a nauseating smell; it was the smell of bodies rotting, and it came from the boxes where she had imprisoned the butchered dolls. Sarab turned delirious, imagining bodies inside those boxes, whispering and accusing her and her brother of murder.

“I never killed anyone!” she burst out, to Raphael’s surprise.

He wanted to tell her how many people he had killed, in case it was some consolation to her, but Sarab pressed on with her denials.

“I have betrayed my comrades. I carried a weapon like a medal on my shoulder, just so they would admire me. How am I a real believer? Even I doubted my faith, so I decided to kill you to make up for my cowardice during the siege. But I failed again; you’re still alive.”

“I don’t understand. Why kill, when a girl like you is supposed to create and nurture life? If war is necessary, it’s the trade of men like me.

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