Inner Voice - Short Story - Chapter 8

Inner Voice - Short Story - Chapter 8

    I have a whole month until the next confrontation, and as usual, I planned to stay committed, to pray and stay away from sins so that God might be gentle with me during the next registration .But before I could even do that, I started adding one 🙂 mark after another, I returned to my ordinary life, to my dark room, to the small hall, to Miss Hanaa and my friend Youssef. Strangely enough, I felt that attending this session was far better than attending the top students’ session, especially in terms of the number of people present. The bigger the crowd, the more afraid I felt. And I do not mean fear of stammering, but fear of crowds themselves. I feel invisible, especially because the teachers do not know our names or anything about us. I do not think they communicate with us well, unlike how things were in Upper Egypt. Why do Upper Egyptians and peasants always feel inferior to Cairenes and Alexandrians despite having so many qualities that do not exist in cities?

    Let us return to what happened yesterday. I do not know what I wanted from Father. I did not want to talk, yet I could not keep it inside. I do not know what I wanted. Maybe I wanted to cry for help, even though I know they have no solutions. What happened has already happened, and many similar things will happen again, and all we can do is ignore it, suppress it, and masturbate! But until when? Maybe until I completely lose my ability to speak and lose my organ, or die from grief!

- He felt angry, but he said to himself, “I’m too small to do anything.”

I heard this sentence, which I had studied yesterday in Gulliver's Travels, echoing in my ears, and how true it was. But why, despite everything, is there still an inner voice telling me that one day all this will end? By the light that reached my room despite the darkness, by the drop of white inside me despite all the blackness, I feel that one day I will be able to speak. I will be attractive, and I will be famous. But for what exactly? Maybe as a writer. I will study medicine for my father’s sake, and then I will turn to writing.

- The handsome writer Alaa Moussa

That is how a female host introduces me on a famous TV show. I walk in as the audience applauds and looks at me with admiration, especially the women. My body is fit, and my beard is thick. The host asks me:

- Do you know anyone here?

- Um... one person

My beloved appears sitting among the audience. I search for her for a few moments before she raises her hand at me. The host invites her to come forward, making it the first appearance of the wife of the handsome, beloved writer, Alaa Moussa. And at the home, my family and friends are watching me as well, Ali, Mostafa, and the others. Everyone envies me for my success and my beautiful wife.

My tears slowly flowed until they touched the pillow I sleep on, yet I smiled before I closed my eyes upon this beautiful dream and fell asleep.

He is me and I am him

It is a war raging inside

Inside me.. killing me

No matter how much I run or escape

*(Lyrics from A Drop Of White by Cairokee)

The End.

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