Nehan, page 1
Ash Khatibi
Copyright © 2017
Ash Khatibi
Cover Design
Lesia / GermanCreative
Illustrations
3dmentat
All rights reserved.
Dedicated to my family and friends for their endless support.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER I
The phone rings as the towering candle in front of me continues to burn. The flames had pulled me into my own mind and the loud ringing noise is the only thing able to bring me back into reality. My dad is sitting in front of me, not moving at all. The light of the flame bounces off his teary eyes and he is quick to look down at the table. As always, he is contemplating whether to answer the phone. A slight frown forms on his face, but it's obvious he's trying to hide it. That's the way it has been every year.
My dad gets up and walks towards the phone. The expression on his face is blank as always, and a tiny tear streams down his face as he greets the other end.
The darkness in the room suddenly exposes itself to me. All my focus had been on the candle while the darkness had enshrouded me. I'm supposed to be the light on a day like this, but my joy is impossible to manifest. Too many memories are associated with this day that I'm not able to bury. I force myself to conjure a smile as my dad walks over to me, but my eyes reveal me.
"Will, I'm sorry," he says. "I don't know how to sa—"
"What is it?" I say, expecting the answer.
"I have to go. Work needs me."
"Why?"
"I have a responsibility."
"Today of all days?"
"What do you want me to do?"
"To stay here!"
"I can't."
"Why are you so selfish?" I accidentally scream.
My dad breaks eye contact and turns his back to me. His heavy breathing is loud enough to reveal a hint of sorrow. I look down at my cake, unsure of how to feel. I thought it might be different this year. He's only been here for fifteen minutes, and already, he needs to go back. My chin trembles and I clench my fist. I try to form the words of an apology, but they don't come out. Instead, a thickness grows in my throat. I finally manage to spit out some words.
"Just go."
My dad looks back at me with a steady gaze, but I refuse to look him in the eyes. The sound of the clock ticking on the wall behind me is the only thing louder than my heartbeat. I blow out the candle and get up to walk towards my room. My steps are heavier than they normally are, but I don't mind the noise.
As I enter my room, the familiar sight of my desk greets me. I had hoped to write the final chapter of my first novel tonight, but that won't happen now. My head is too full, and while that usually helps me, the chapter I'd write now would be unorganized and complicated. The idea for my novel had come to me in a dream. I had woken up in the middle of the night and written the essence of it down on a pad that I keep next to my bed.
I take my shirt off and lay in my bed. I squeeze my eyes shut and roll to my side. I shouldn't have said that. He's only working long hours because of me. Because of us. I let the heat of the moment get the better of me, an occurrence that is happening more often lately.
The bookshelf that stores all my books is at the end of my bed. Every night, I focus on one book and imagine myself being the protagonist as I fall asleep. Every time, the world of the book appears in my dream. It's my way of escaping into a reality greater than my current one. But I’m not ready to fall asleep yet. I need to clear my mind.
On this whole planet, only one place allows me to calm down and focus. I put on my shirt and grab a coat from my closet. My own eyes catch me off guard in the mirror on the closet door. They're darker than I'm used to. So full of confusion and doubt. Or maybe I just haven't looked into a mirror for a long time. It seems I'm becoming less familiar with myself the more I live. I take one last look at my room before I walk out.
My dad has already left and the cake he bought is still on the table, succumbing to the darkness that we left in the room. The clock continues to tick loudly and the face reads 11:23 PM. I have to leave now to get there in good time.
The streets at this time of night are barely lit, but I've walked this way too many times to get lost. The road in front of me stretches beyond the horizon, and the end is shrouded in a looming mist. The houses on each side are all similar and discerning them from one another is an impossible task. I often wonder what would happen if I walked up to one of the houses and rang the doorbell. What kind of person would answer the door? Would their situation be similar to mine and my dad's or would they be a normal family? I've never had the courage to walk through the driveway, but my imagination will have to suffice. Finally, the large plain reveals itself up ahead.
Walking through the gates seems a feat every time, even though I've done it hundreds of times. The simple wooden gate turns into a huge metal door, constructed to deny entry to the weaker. I always consider turning back, but never once have I surrendered. The overwhelming stones enlarge the actual size of the graveyard, and it almost seems like a maze. But I continue in.
The whole place is under the dominance of an eerie and mysterious mist. The stones I walk past have no meaning to me. Even so, I can't help but wonder who these people were. What if I was walking past one of the greatest astrophysicists to ever live and didn't know it? What if I was walking past a big philanthropist who shaped the world into its current state? Or my soulmate? Priests and preachers will have us believe that burying our loved ones will guarantee eternal peace after their passing, but walking past these stones, I feel no energy surfacing. Is that because of me? I don't know if I should believe that lying in a wooden box means eternal peace. My heart wants it to be true, but the more I experience my own life, the less sure I become of the next one. Maybe we feel empty because we leave pieces of ourselves in people we used to love. If so, this should be a joyful place, but it never has been.
The closer I get to the oak tree, the more overpowering it becomes. Many of its leaves have fallen to the ground, creating a unique contrast between the tree and the ground. The leaves crackle under my shoes and the sound reminds me of the fireplace we had in our old house. I used to sit in front of there, content while reading a book. The fire would instill a calmness and confidence in me that I haven't been able to reproduce since. I often wish for those days to return.
I stop in front of the two stones and take a deep breath that seems to last forever. Some leaves crackle behind me and I immediately turn my head, but no one is there. I've barely ever seen anyone here. The few times I have, they're only a shade. A remnant of a happiness that used to be, so I ignore them. The atmosphere is thick and ghastly tonight, as if exerting a force to enter my mind. I turn my head back and lower my eyes. I've been here many times before, but every time I'm within a few feet of the stones, I feel a disconnection to everything that defines me. The situation in the house forced me to spontaneously come tonight, so I have no idea what to say. A small smile sneaks its way onto my face, and my heart decides to do the speaking for me. I calmly exhale.
"Mom, it's me. Will. I know it's been a while and I'm sorry, but I've been trying to make you proud of me. You and Dad, both. I'm close to finishing my novel. I was planning on finishing it tonight, but I had a bad argument with Dad and I don't know what to do, so I came here. Even though you've been gone for so long, every day is unclear without you. On days where everything is hopeless, I look up to the stars and I see you. I look up so my tears will never fall. The future is still unclear, but I promise I will do whatever it takes to make you proud of me. I love you Mom."
Next to my mom lies my brother, but I've already said what I needed to. I angrily wipe the tears off my face and look up at the moon. It seems so far away yet so close. As if I can vanish in its light anytime I need to disappear, but when it truly matters, it leaves me to figure out things on my own. I have a habit of avoiding problems, which sta-
"Hello?" I blurt out as a large thump nearby shocks me. No one seems to be around. The sound of the wind has gotten louder. I must have heard wrong, so I turn back to the oak tree. The branches carry many of the cuts I've made over the years while spending time here. If given the opportunity, I could list out what I was thinking when I made each cut, but bringing up memories is something I've become good at avoiding. As I relax again, the sound of retreating footsteps in the distance catches my attention. This time, I'm sure I hadn't heard wrong.
I lower my breath to better hear and bend my knees to prevent me from snapping the leaves below me. I walk towards the source of the noise, which sounded like it came from near the exit of the graveyard. How ridiculous. How many times have I fooled myself with these things, and when have I ever acted on it? My imagination constantly conjures things to rile me up. Still, I continue.
The wind carries the mist away and reveals the place the sound was coming from. The light of the moon
I turn my head around. A dark figure is floating towards me. It doesn’t have a face, but its horns reign over its aura. I cease, blinking as chills go down my sweaty back, but I continue running. I need to get away before it reaches me. The wind is flying around me, making it hard to breathe and forces me to slow down as I approach the gate. The figure has disappeared, but it could be anywhere. I take a deep breath and leave the yard.
I step my feet into the ground and run towards my house. What the hell was that? Did I hallucinate? It seemed so real. As if I witnessed the spawning of a demon. A tormented soul rising from its long-forgotten grave, ready to terrorize anything in its path. But it disappeared as quickly as it had formed.
The road is empty, but I keep looking back with every house I pass to make sure it isn’t following me. Maybe someone was playing a prank on me. The retreating footsteps could have been from the culprits. But how can anyone control a shadow? The absence of light. Nothing should be able to conjure from it. I have to get home. Thinking about it will do me no good.
The houses around me are becoming familiar and I let out a relieved sigh. Maybe everything will be fine and tomorrow this will all just be a bad memory. My house in the distance gives me a sense of safety. But this sense is destroyed the moment I see my dad's black Nissan. Isn't he supposed to be at work? The car isn't parked in our garage as it usually is. It's parked in the middle of the street, with tire marks leading up to the car and an open door. A drop of sweat rolls down my forehead, and my chest hurts. He never abruptly comes home like this. Something must have happened.
The front door is wide open, so I rush in. All the lights are off and the window from the front door is shattered all across the entrance. My muscles tense up as my eyes scan for any form of movement. Sweat is still running down my back. I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight. I accidentally step on a piece of glass that breaks and makes a noise. My heart skips a beat as someone scrapes the floor in one of the rooms.
"Will! Run!"
My dad bursts out of one of the rooms in the hallway with his arms tied up and a loose piece of tape hanging from the side of his mouth.
"Get out of here!"
"Dad, what's happening?" I shriek and drop my phone.
"Listen to me, ru—"
A masked man comes out of the room and tackles my dad. I'm paralyzed for a second, but then violently clench my fists and jump towards the man to attack him. I swing my arm to punch him, with no plan, as my body is only fueled by adrenaline. I manage to push him back and away from my dad, but he swiftly gets back up on his feet.
"You shouldn't have done that."
His voice is like that of an animal taught to speak. A screeching that doesn't sound human. Trying to communicate its pain, but can’t. The man creeps towards me. He's cut a hole in his ski mask so his sinister smile doesn't have a place to hide. Time runs slower as he approaches, but even then, I can't think clear enough to figure out what to do. I'm a big block of ice, frozen in place until someone melts me away. And that someone is approaching. A loud yell echoes through the hallway and my dad tackles the man, powerfully enough to make him collapse.
"I'm coming Dad."
I run towards him to free him of the ropes, but before I can reach him, someone grabs me from behind and puts a hood over my head. I lash out, but my hands are held in place. This is not happening. This is not how today was supposed to go. What happened at the graveyard, and now this? If my pulse wasn't so strong, I would think this is all a nightmare. My legs give in and my dad's voice diminishes as I'm dragged away. I try to let out a scream, but my voice is completely gone. The adrenaline in my body is decreasing, and as a pain sets in my muscles, a burning sensation grows in my nostrils. It's hard to discern through the hood, but I'm almost completely sure of what it is. Gasoline. I violently shake my whole body in a hopeless attempt to break loose. Before I'm able to grasp what's going on, I'm struck in the head and an intense ringing sound sets in my ears. Then I black out.
CHAPTER II
I wake up with a jolt. My whole body shakes due to the incredibly low temperature, even though I'm fully clothed. It takes a few seconds to orient myself and focus my eyes. My hands fumble around. They touch a soft fabric but crumble by the feel of it. I've been lying on a thin mattress with nothing but an old dusty blanket to cover me, which is now resting on the floor. Usually, the sunlight shining through my bedroom window wakes me up, but I can barely see a thing in here. I wipe the drowsiness off my eyes and look around. Four rocky stone walls and one beaten up metal door enclose me in what seems like an ancient prison cell, only lit up by an old hanging ceiling light. The dust is dancing around the room and sets in my throat. As I cough, the events of yesterday come back to me.
Who the hell brought me here? Who were those people in my house? A throbbing pain sets in my skull, pounding away with every heartbeat. I need to find my dad before it's too late. I dash towards the door and fiercely crash my shoulder into the metal, while my right hand pushes down the heavy handle. The door screeches slightly but doesn't open. The key isn't in the keyhole. I clench my jaw and pound on the door while screaming for help, but it's no good. No sounds are coming from outside. Not even the sound of the wind or the ocean.
I need to figure out what's going on. On the opposite side of the room, a tall wooden closet leans against the wall. Small rifts span across the closet doors, as if someone has been scratching the wood over a long period of time. I shiver as I open the doors and a pile of dust falls down around me. A dozen dirty shirts hang on coat hangers and… They're my shirts! Just the other day I was wearing the red striped shirt in front of me to school. Why are they so dirty? They look like they haven’t been used in ages. I open the drawer under the shirts. More clothes. My socks and pants are in there, all ragged. This doesn't make any sense… but I have more important things to focus on.
I move over to the nightstand by the mattress. A small drawer is attached to it and it takes a forceful pull to open. Inside, there is nothing but the Holy Bible. Not exactly what I need right now. A round table stands at the end of the mattress, and I sit in one of the chairs to calm myself down. I scan the room. There is an artificial cactus next to the door, and a cobweb connects it to a filthy toilet and sink, which enforces my conviction that this is a prison cell. It looks like the room hasn't been used in ages. If this truly is a prison cell, where are the tally marks next to the mattress counting every day lost by previous prisoners? Before my mind enters absolute absurdity, I feel something in my left pocket. A key. How did that get there? I rush to the door and put the key in the lock. It takes a bit of wiggling to push it all the way in, but a loud satisfying clicking sound indicates that it's working.
I walk out and the same gloominess present in the room greets me. It seems I'm in some sort of giant cavern. Countless ceiling lights illuminate this place, just like the one in the room. The smell is salty, like the water of an ocean, but other than that, it's scentless.
The room I just left is located on the third floor of a semi-dome, which looks like it has been carved out manually judging by its smoothness. Five rooms occupy each floor and a spiral wooden staircase connects them all at the end of the platform in front of the rooms. Some of the doors to the rooms are wide open, and I freeze in complete silence when I realize that this means I'm not the only one here. At that exact moment, the door of the room next to mine slams open, causing me to jump.
A girl wearing a casual green coat walks out and stands by the railing at the edge of the tiny platform. Her wavy brown hair prevents me from seeing her face, but she seems awfully calm. Her jeans have a few holes in them, but her black boots are spotless. She takes a deep breath and abruptly turns her head in my direction.
