ZACH DIED IN THE EPILOGUE.
Jus sayin' cause I've been asked a million times already. I fixed it up, because apparently that wasn't clear enough.
Now don't kill me.
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Competition Winner
OK, so first off, let me just say it was VERY hard to choose a winner, since they were all so very good, masha'Allah! But alas, I did have to choose one. A massive thank you to everyone who attempted, if only you guys knew how much I loved reading it and how much I loved seeing your perspective. It meant so much to me, because it shows you took the story to heart!
I do have a few people still sending in their late entries, so I may decide to do a second and third place.
Anyways, the person who got first place, did for a number of reasons...
1. They submitted their entry impeccably fast.
2. The writing is amazingly good.
3. There is a sentence in this work that just latched onto my heart [shout out to whoever can guess what that sentence is lol]
4. They managed to encompass all the feels [lol] and most of the important characters in only a short amount of writing and let me tell you, that is very hard to do.
5. It wasn't overdone in any way.
6. They included references to past chapters.
7. It's obvious a lot of thought and effort went into the writing.
And much, much more. I'm sure the author realises anyhow, how great their writing is :)
Anyway!
A BIG round of applause for.....
Starryepiphany! Read on to see how he portrayed Zach and Yasmine's future...
“Daddy!”
I was broken out of my trance by the sound of the voice of my little girl emerging from behind the clump of bushes. It was an autumn day in Canterbury, Melbourne with an uncanny shade of orange all around. She ran over to the bench I was sitting on and wiggled herself up beside me.
“Daddy, are you upset?”
Oh no! Was it too obvious? After all, she’s the little version of my… I smiled at her. “Why would you think that?” I ruffled her hair and looked at her delicate features, those same features that I got to look at every day for only two years. My daughter is the exact replica of my… I feel the hollowness building up inside me again. Some wounds take time to heal…
“Um…,” she looked upward furrowing her eyebrows as she pressed her forefinger to her lips. “I dunno, maybe because you’re like a, like a, statue! Yes! You’re like a statue! Statues always look sad.” Innocence dripping out of her three-year-old eyes as she looked at me, searching me. I suddenly feel self-conscious. I saw her lips twitch into a mischievous smile. “STATUE!” She exclaimed suddenly.
I stopped moving and stared blankly ahead. Out of the corner my eye I could see she did the same. Our little game was on. The first one to move loses. And like always, the desire to scratch some part of the body heightens during these games. Like right now I felt like scratching my elbow. Why? Why now of all times? Yes, I’m a grown man, but still I don’t want to lose to my daughter!
Grow up Zach. Oh shut up, it’s just a father-daughter thing. Tell you what? The two monkeys inside me had started picking on each other again. Their fights usually turned into a heated quarrel especially when I thought about those two years.
I could see she was peering at me from time to time. At one point our glances met and we both suppressed our urges to burst out laughing. Then she threw up her hands and groaned. “This is sooo boring. And I feel like scratching my back!”
I laughed hard. Yes, it was a genuine, carefree laughter. I felt the hollowness inside me getting filled bit by bit. But then again, did I really want the wounds to close? Those were the only remaining connection. I want them to stay. I want to hold onto them, instead of pretending I’ve moved on which I clearly haven’t and I don’t want to.
“Daddy, I’m bored.” She yawned.
I just felt like someone stabbed at my innards. She’s bored! My little Tasneem’s bored. I felt the eerie sensation of a déjà vu setting in. A little girl had gotten bored and had shaved off part of my hair. That was ages ago. But it all felt like yesterday.
I was at a loss for words. I just look fondly at her trailing her soft features with my eyes.
All of a sudden she flipped her hair and squealed. “Catch me if you can Daddy!” She jumped down from the bench onto the ground and scurried away, with the sound of the fallen leaves getting crushed beneath her little feet.
I laughed as I got up to chase her. “I’ll get you Tasneem!”
As I started running after her, time slowed down. With every step I took, I heard voices, the shrill sound of missiles and the pulsating explosions, the cries, the laughter. The potpourri of memories came crashing in. It wasn’t nostalgia, nor an illusion, but somewhere in between. More on the lines of a lucid dream when you know it’s not true, yet you refuse to let go. I wanted to shake them off, yet a part of me wanted to cling onto them. The only connection to my…Yasmine…the only connection to my beloved Palestine!
“Catch me Daddy!” The peaceful ambience amid the radiant autumn glow tried to pull me out of the daze.
“I’ll get you Tasneem! Try and hide!” But I intentionally slowed down for her to feel she was winning. Heck, I myself didn’t want to the bliss to end- the addictive feeling of being caught between the past and the present. It’s so bittersweet, yet it relieves you.
I was a little boy again, back in Gaza, running down the streets, chasing after my best friend…
One fine day the people came in and reported that a part of the tunnel had caved in. Jacob didn’t return home. But no one really saw him going down or anything. But when he didn’t turn up for three days we had to put two and two together. I couldn’t bare the loss. I was already half-dead with guilt. The assumption and the emptiness accompanying it was terrible.
“Zach, I’m pregnant!” She had whispered in my ear. That had to be the most passionate and enduring embrace we ever had in the two brief years we spent together. That was the happiest moment of my life. I smothered her with kisses. She was carrying my child! Our child! She looked all the more beautiful. Yeah, they talk about that legendary glow and all. But trust me, she had that glow. I could feel it. It was just magical to think that she had the seal of our love within her. I felt like hugging her forever. There she stood, my wife, my best friend.
The complications started after eight months. I had exhausted myself trying to get medicines and food. The Israelis had decided to block the exits once again. The midwives did their best. Yasmine breathed her last, rather I should say screamed her last as she pushed Tasneem out into the cruel, ugly world. She died without treatment. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save Jacob. But I couldn’t cry. Not yet. I still haven’t cried over the loss of my brother and my wife.
I just felt angry, frustrated and choked. I felt that weird urge again. The same urge that I had felt when I was considering moving to Sweden. Only I knew deep down it had to do more with escaping than studying. I wanted to leave everything behind and just disappear somewhere. Seriously my daughter deserved a life. AND THAT WON’T BE HERE. What’s the meaning of all this suffering? She’s innocent and I couldn’t let anything or anyone steal that from her. She deserved much better. I had to live for her.
I was locked up in my room for over a week after that. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. I was on the verge of losing my sanity. It wasn’t until my friends broke open the door and my Mum force-fed me that I felt a little human and actually cared to hold and hug my newborn daughter. I was heartbroken. I was insane. I don’t think there’s any word the described what state I was in. I had developed bedsores. Sometimes I had wondered whether I was alive. I had pinched myself. I just couldn’t bring myself to accept that Yasmine was gone, Jacob was gone.
And then I had poured everything out over Mum’s shoulder as she held me and rubbed my back. “I hate this place Mum. What’s the point living here? Dad’s gone. Jacob’s gone. My Yasmine’s gone. The same thing’s going to happen to us. We’re just dying without doing anything substantial in our lives. We’re just playthings being tossed and kicked around. I can’t let this happen to you, to Tasneem. She deserves much better. Let’s just leave. There’re enough places in this world to make a living.”
She had given me a hard look. Then she sobbed. We didn’t speak for two days after that. But then she had told me. She was firm but I knew her heart was getting broken to bits with every word she spoke. “I have too many memories in here to leave. You want to escape the memories but I want to hold onto them till my last breath. I can’t and I won’t leave this place. But I beg you do. Take Tasneem with you. Yes, she deserves much better.”
“Mum, she needs a grandmother too!”
She had kissed Tasneem and handed her to me. “Go Zach.” That was the last time I saw her.
Next came the escaping phase. Noah had got me connected with sources. I felt so bad for him. After Yasmine’s death, he just changed. The shock was too much for him to bear. And the other kids, especially Deana and Adam, I just can’t express how miserable I felt. Every time I looked into their hollow eyes, my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. I had forgotten how to form words of consolation, being myself in need for it! Khalto and Amu had mixed feelings about what I was going to do but left the decision with me.
Noah had become rather impassive. When I had told him of my plan of leaving Palestine, he had just shrugged and helped me out, never for once asking why or speaking out what he thought. I terribly missed the old Noah.
I had actually crossed over into Lebanon on foot, death looming over me every second. I was starved. Tasneem was starved. I never for once let her go of my arms although they felt numb and paralysed. At times I felt like a coward for leaving Gaza. I remembered what I had promised Yasmine when we were kids. But I was too selfish right now. I would do anything to protect Tasneem. It didn’t matter how many times I berated myself with each step I took towards the border. Then began the journey on water.
I don’t know how devious a course we refugees had to take to escape the law. The ship was way over capacity. Food and provisions were scarce. After a gruelling spell of fifteen days, the nightmare finally came to an end when we saw the stark white of the Sydney Opera House against the backdrop of the blue sky. But I was wrong. The nightmare wasn’t over. It was just another fresh start.
I have no idea how many jobs I have switched in these three years, from a driver, to a construction worker to even a janitor. The first year had been especially tough. I had to carry Tasneem to work. Well, sometimes got fired for that very reason. You know what my inspiration was? Those women toiling the lives out them in the plantations just to make a bare pittance, all the while carrying their children on their backs. But now after all these three years, alhamdulillah I have a stable job and I can at least pay rent, for Tasneem’s school and daycare.
And sometimes it was so weird. Like I’m on a bus and then I see someone vaguely similar to Jacob or Yasmine and I get gooseflesh, only to be reminded the next instant, that they were no more. Well, I still look at random faces half expecting Jacob to pop out of nowhere and pull me into a hug… What if he were NOT dead? What if he too escaped to Egypt through a tunnel or something?
“I got you!” I grabbed Tasneem from behind and drew her into a tight hug. She shrieked, giggled and tried to escape. No, I’m not letting her go. The sweet fragrance of her dress hammered onto my bottled up emotions. I suddenly felt claustrophobic. But then the tears started. I finally cried! I wish you were here Yasmine… The wounds were finally getting closed. Tasneem tried to wiggle around and face me. Oh no! I need to hide my tears before she sees me! But it was too late!
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A/N
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