The Elahim Brothers

Extinguished

Fateh was on a phone call with Dad. He did not talk to me. Grandma patted my back. Somewhere inside she hasn't forgiven me yet. Somewhere inside I haven't forgiven myself. I locked the windows, the air takes a dangerous form in the night.
No matter how much I try, they come back, these feels. The sensation of past horrors, the sound of melancholy. The voices of my parents banging my door, my damp cheeks restricting the rude breeze but before I would sink again I floated on the surface as I heard a peal of thunder. I looked beside. Grandma and Fateh were asleep. I looked at the clock. It strikes 2 am. Dar-al-maqamah sleeps early. It has been too late. The sound of a loud bang jerked me on my feet. I tried not to panic. I heard faint cries....slowly those cries turned into screams. I was frightened as I sprang on the door know and opened it. I saw Al-Wais rushing upstairs from the library and in the way he gestures Mrs. Salma who stood at the corner to put me back to my bed which she did. She pushed back the door and locked me from outside. Nobody in the room had open eyes yet. I marched in the room worried but no shadow was to be seen.
Who could it be? This place is getting mysterious by days. The next day at breakfast I eagerly waited. They all sat in the usual fashion and ate silently. Mrs. Kasheefa never serves, in fact, I've never seen Mrs. Salma or Mrs. Kasheefa inside the house until last night and today they are setting our breakfast.
I softly asked her about the incident, she just blankly refused to me saying nothing of any sort happened and that I had a nightmare. I know myself it did happen. Them I looked at them all. They have no worry nor reason on the face. They avoid me like usual. Was it a dream?
Al-Hassan looks pale.
"I would like some more" Souffian ate the rest of the eggs as I stared that Hassan shifted his remainder to his.
That day like all other days faded into the grey walls and paintings of the house. Dar-Al-Maqamah is strange.
I sat with Wildan on the garden bench. "How do they speak in the city? Is it any different dialect from ours?" He asked.

"They do not speak like you. They are very different. There are slangs and bad words thrown as a greeting"
I said remembering that this century does not like the century I see here.

"And what do they say to insult someone in your city?" Shizad asked.

There were a lot of bad words that came into my mind but I did not want to corrupt their speech so I found subtle one "low life, weirdo"

"You're a low life weirdo ni'sa," he said to me with a frown.

I did not speak. A helper requested Wildan and Shizad to present themselves in the living room where a man and a woman had come to see them.

It would great to see other humans here I thought to myself.

A man, his wife, and two daughters were seen leaving the Manor. Shizad grunts "Ni'sa" and growls like a lion at their leave. Others sharpen their eyes. What is it with their resentment with women?
Day by Day I lament my dismal. In the garden where the fresh bloom had arrived with sweet smell spreading like a rising addictive offering an unwavering high. I trudged along The bloom.

"I love these flowers Wildan, what are they called?" I asked him.

"Foxgloves. They are brother Al-Wais's favorite"