“To Die Alone Is a Curse” By Malek A. Allari
“To die alone is a curse, but sometimes it is also a blessing. You don’t let people feel pain and sadness upon your departure. You simply die. Another person who led a life just to die in the end. It is always painful to see someone depart from the blessing of life, but it also means eternal rest. I rest until the end of time. How I love to finally rest! No more responsibilities, no more stress or worry, and no more pain. It would be lovely. Humans are just afraid to die because, at the last minute, they just see the whole dark side of themselves. They become their true selves. By nature, humans are just greedy, selfish, sinful, and curious little creatures that sometimes wander to places they are not supposed to be. They are afraid to die because there is no certainty as to what comes after. Will they reincarnate, perhaps to cleanse and repel all the sins they committed in their previous lives? They might seek redemption if only they remember. Is there Heaven or Hell? If there is, will they live happily ever after in Heaven, or will they suffer in Hell for eternity? What if, after dying, there is nothing? Just lived a blank life. That is why people want to live forever, because of the fear of ‘what is next?’ Immortality is more than a curse than a blessing, and I don’t know why people want it. To be precise, immortality was never meant to be a blessing. Seeing everybody around you die, knowing that you will keep on living. Sacrificing yourself for someone who will eventually die; for example, you took a bullet to save your partner, just to wake up after minutes as if nothing happened. Immortality might be a simple word with a simple meaning, but what if it was more? Immortality might also be a symbol of everlasting pain and suffering. Immortality might just be fictional, and therefore, anything fictional is something that cannot be explained. Fiction is simply a phenomenon that we cast in things that we cannot explain and therefore not take seriously. Human thoughts, dangerous and destructive, are only impulses in the brain that produce so much power into the world. That is why the curse of immortality is something fictional yet so real. That is why we need and have to believe in God, because if there was no God; Life is as meaningless as…” I stopped short as I looked at my companion.
We were sitting at a local café, drinking coffee and tea. My companion smiled, “You are at a loss for words.” My eyes widened. My heart started racing through my rib cage. I looked up at the sky, there is nothing meaningless. My companion put his teacup down. “You may please continue. Life is as meaningless as what?” he asked.
“There is nothing meaningless. We all have meaning, everything from objects to empty words being said on a daily basis. Where have I been?” I replied. I stood up and thanked my companion for his hospitality. I left, walking in the brick road, between all these ancient shops and houses. What a lovely place! All these eons and I have been as dumb as an ant. It is not that I actually lost time or wasted any of it. It is just that I became heartless and mindless that I lost my wisdom. By now, my companion would have been my best friend or more of a brother. We spent many years together, and I call him my companion. Have I been this naive my whole life?
I get a call later, it was my companion. He was caught in the middle of a shooting, and his life is on edge now. I walked casually to the hospital, knowing that I would live for another eon or so. I could not die, no matter how much and how hard I try. As I walked into his room, his daughter came and hugged me. She was crying, and as her godfather, I said, “Everything is going to be fine, my sweet little angel.” Although she is 18, she loves being called an angel. I sat by my companion’s bed. He was in a miserable state.
“You have been in the right place at the wrong time, haven’t you? Well, you have been quite a good person. I am proud of you, and it was an honor. This is the time I say that I will take care of your family, rest now, you deserve it,” I said. All lies, nothing true. It is time I leave everything behind and move on in my everlasting life. Not a single tear, not a single emotion, just nothing. I have grown to have nothing inside my heart. Days later, I attended my companion’s funeral. All these people are as fake as I am. No one cared for him, not even his wife. Her lying tears, made from nothing but the happiness of the inheritance. Tears made just by saltwater. As everyone was leaving, the sky began to roar and weep from pain. I just am. There, standing, wasting nothing but energy. Just there, living through the curse of immortality.
“Memories I Don’t Want to Remember” By Malek A. Allari
Blood. That is all that I saw. I had a beating heart in my hand. Blood. I had my eyes wide. I am not a killer. I am only an old man, very old that I waited for Death for a long time. Blood was soaking my hands and dripping from the heart into my hand. I felt afraid, anger, happy, and tired. Am I insane? No, I am sane. I looked around, but all I see is four walls with a small window in the middle, just above the bed. Where am I? A mental hospital? No, I am in jail, am I not? The light kept flickering, and the only sound is the blood collapsing into the floor. Darkness, evil, fury, and insanity filled the place. I moved to the door, with the heart still in my hand, and tried to open it. It was locked. I sat by the door, looking deep at the heart in my hand.
A painful scream erupted, and I lost my focus. I turned around in all directions as fear grew inside me. The heart was still beating. I could not crush this heart. I am a good person, a very good person. I am very old to have the strength or energy to lift a book. The heart is beginning to get heavy. I tried to lower my hand a little bit, but the heart would stop. I cannot risk killing the heart when someone needs it. I sat on the bed and then looked outside my window. Houses in many colors lined up, trees on the curbside, cars going in both ways. And finally, out in the open, there was a little girl in a red sweater holding a yellow balloon. The girl looked out in all directions, and on a snowy day, it is always hard. The girl had a huge husky by her side, growling at people walking by. I looked up at the sky and forgot about the girl. Am I at peace?
A second scream came, and fear was no longer in my mind. The beating heart continued its war, hanging on my weak hand. A knock came from the door, and I curled myself in a ball, careful not to drop the heart. I tried to say something, but nothing came out. I tried to scream, but my voice was no longer there. The door opened, and a beautiful nurse came in. She had red hair with very heavy red lipstick. She wore red heels and a heavenly custom. Her green eyes were as beautiful as her body. Once she saw the heart in my hand, she screamed at the top of her lungs. People say that the only way to see the soul is through the eyes. As she was screaming, I saw her wicked soul eaten by the guilt of a sinful deed.
I felt weak and fell on the ground with my beating heart in my hand and atop the nurse. “The devil is among is, after all,” I said as I locked eyes with her. I saw her teary eyes, guilty of a crime she tried to redeem herself from. “I hope you rot in Hell, and may the Devil whip your soul out of your body,” she said with sad, teary eyes. I felt anger growing through my body. I am not a killer. Footsteps sounded through the hallway. Two massive men entered the room, they were the guards. I looked into their eyes and saw the guilt of a crime they wish they never committed. I moved away from the nurse, the heart was still in my hands. The guards took the nurse away. I looked at the beating heart, how delicate and vulnerable. I squeezed a little and felt pain in my chest. I looked down, and horror crept through my throat. I screamed as loud as thunder on a stormy night.
I was holding my own heart the whole time. The head doctor entered, he had black hair and translucent glasses. He had French facial hair and green eyes. He widened his eyes and then smiled. “You have achieved the impossible, my friend,” he said as he put his notebook on the bed. The doctor came to me, he stood away from the heart by an inch. “This is your curse, my friend. With shock and horror, your voice activates. Another curse had befallen upon you, my friend. You killed a young, innocent girl in a red sweater and a yellow balloon, and then you feasted on her heart. You did not handle what happened, and insanity was unleashed from your brain. You long to feast on a heart, I bet it tasted good. Well, you tried for years, but you only succeeded in three. Tell me, are you ready to feast on your own heart?” the doctor asked. I stumbled back into the wall. I began to cry. “I…I am…not a killer, doctor,” I stuttered. The doctor shook his head. He took out a syringe. “You killed many kids, my friend, three with a feasted heart. You went on a crazy kill drive. This syringe contains a chemical that will help you sleep forever.”
“But I don’t want to sleep forever. I want my heart back inside my chest,” I replied. The doctor laughed for a long time. I was still holding my beating heart. Sometimes, the only precious things we hold are the most important. Memories began to flow through my head. “I am a killer,” I whispered as I saw every face of my young victims. I had tears in my eyes running down my face. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “May God help us all, doctor,” I said before crushing my heart between my fists. I fell on the floor, and my heart returned to its place. Rest at last.