Thursday, April 30, 2015

الزائر المُميت (Salma Gamal)

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم..
الزائر المُميت
كانت منهمكة في مذاكرة مادة الأحياء التي تعشقها،كل تركيزها علي الأسماء المعقدة التي يصعب حفظها ،و كأنها منشغلة هكذا لتششت نفسها عن أمر ما!
أمرٍ مزعج يكمن دائماً معها و يلازمها دائماً!و يا ليت تلك الأمر يتركها في حالها....
ظلت تذاكر هكذا حتي وجدت مياةٍ منهمرة علي إيديها.تركت قلمها و فجأة تبخرت الأسماء التي تعبت في في حفظها و كأن الكون يتلاشي من حولها، وثم استندت بظهرها إلي الوراء و باتت تسترجع ما سبب هذة المياة المنهمرة؟
يا الله لم الحياة هكذا؟ لم الحياة تظل مبتسمة ثم فجأة تكشر عن أنيابها المفترسة؟
انهمرت دموعها و بكثرة،و هي لا تعي كيف توقف تلك الفيضان!
كم تكره نفسها و هي في تلك الحالة!
توقفت عن البكاء و لم تعبأ بمسح دموعها و لكنها مضت تفكر!
لم دوماً تنتهي هكذا؟ لم البكاء؟لم الخوف!
نعم إنه الخوف! ذلك الوحش المخيف الذي يفترس ما تبقي من روحها المرحة كل يومٍ!
حياتها علي ما يرام! ليس يوجد ما يقلقها!
هي تفعل ما تحب و مِجدة في دروسها،تحب من حولها و كل شيءٍ حولها في هدوء و تناسب!
و لكن تعلمون تلك هي المشكلة!
فالعواصف المميتة يكون دوما قبلها الجو هاديء و مستقر!
هي خائفة من كل شيء! خائفة أن تصبح تلك الحياة الوردية بشعة لا روح بها! خائفة من سهام القدر المفاجأة التي تأتي في الصميم!
ماذا بعد؟ ستظل هكذا؟ الخوف يسرق عمرها يومٍ بعد يومٍ!
ليت أحد يفهمها! فكلما تُحدث أحدً عن شعورها أو مخاوفها تُتهم بالجنون و السطحية! فحياتها مثالية لم الخوف و القلق إذاً! لم هذا التفكير المتلوي؟!
كم مقتت الناس و كم أرادت أن تخبرهم أن هذا الشعور ليست هي من تختاره! إنه شعور يأتي وقتما يحب و يمكث مثلما يريد!
لقد ملت من كونها ضائعة هكذا بلا جدوي،و لكن ما الحل؟!
اعتدلت و قامت من علي مقعدها و قررت أن تتجه إلي شباك غرفتها و أن تنظر إلي الشوارع الخالية....و كأن لهذا الشباك مفعول سحري....
وقفت و الهواء البارد يصطدم بوجهها المُندي من الدموع،توقفت عن التفكير لبرهة و أشاحت بوجهها ناحية السيارات المتحركة.
ظلت تراقب السيارات في هدوء و ثم انتقل نظرها إلي المارة أمامها
تمعنت بهم شخصاً شخصاً.
ملابسهم،وجوههم،طريقة كلامهم،كيف يضحكون....مشطتهم تمشيطاً شاملا ً!
و فجأة صعق رأسها بعض الأسئلة التي لا إجابة لها!
"تُري هل يوجد من بين هؤلاء من هو مثلي؟"
"هل حياتهم علي ما يرام كما أري؟ أم هم يدفنون ما يؤلمهم بداخلهم!"
"هل إذا تحدثت مع أحداً منهم سوف يفهمني و يشعر بما يراودني؟"
شلالات من الأسئلة التي لا لون لها!
أسكتت أفكارها المتمردة و أغمضت أعينها و قررت أن تستمتع بالهواء الذي قليلا ً ما يمر من شباك غرفتها!
ظلت هكذا حتي شعرت أن روحها في مكانٍ و أن مخاوفها سجينة تشاهد روحها و هي طليقة!
تخيلت هذا الموقف و كأن خوفها مسجون،و هي حرة لا يوجد ما يقلقها!
و ثم أفاقت من تخيلها! و أطرقت تفكر....
لم لا تفعل هكذا في الحقيقة؟!
لماذا لم تسجن خوفها و تترك نفسها آمنة سعيدة؟!
لم هي دائماً أضعف!
هي لن تكون كذلك بعد الآن، إنه ليس بشيءً هين و لكن هي ملت من كونها ضعيفة و قلقة ولا بيدها حيلة!
أخذت نفساً عميقاً و كأنها تودع الهواء العليل،أغلقت شباك غرفتها ،و اتجهت إلي مقعدها لكي تُنهي ما لم تذاكره.
و كانت تعي بداخلها إنها سوف تكون مختلفة عن ما هي عليه! بطريقة أو بأخري!
و تمتمت لنفسها أن انتظار البلاء قبل حدوثه لن يجلب إلا مزيداً من البلاء،و إنه هي فقط من بيدها طرد تلك الزائر المميت الذي يسرق كل يوماً جزءٍ من فرحتها المفقودة.
نعم،يمكنها طرده و إلي الأبد...

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Have You Seen Him? (Noha ElNashar, Visionaries)

Have You Seen Him?

Have you seen him? ‘Cause I’ve been looking. They try to hold me back, but I’m still looking. They don’t understand why I keep looking. And who is to blame them? They are oblivious to what I have seen and what I have felt. They tell me I should stop looking, but how can I? How can I when looking is the only thing that brings me happiness and keeps me sane? They give me weird looks when I say I’m not giving up, but it’s not my fault they have given up on their happiness.
They think I am the echo of every failed search. They think I should follow the rules, and they don’t get that I am the exception. They think I’m too optimistic. Well, I say they are too realistic. Why can’t I keep looking? I know what is waiting for me, so why not keep looking? They say I will get hurt. But I have; a thousand times, I have. And look at me now. Am I not standing? Why listen to them when I know my joy is in looking? Even if it takes a million years, my happiness is in looking. Why not keep looking if I’m willing? I’m willing to look and wait and hurt and smile and cry and yell. I’m willing to live.
They say the story should end here, but I’m willing to let it take a life of its own. They say everyone has a story to be told, but mine isn’t the perfect one to be passed on. And maybe it is not, but imperfection is where my happy ending waits to be picked up. They say I shouldn’t be so much of a fighter, but if I don’t fight for my happiness, what else have I got left? And maybe, after all, they are just jealous, for my happiness is in looking, and theirs is lost, for they have nowhere to look.


Tuesday, April 28, 2015

آروي الغضبان

الله موجود، داخلي.
أراه في كل مكان أقصده، في البيت، في العمل، في الملهى، في المسجد والكنيسة والكنيس، أراه في كل مكان وأحب أن أراه .
ليس عندي لأحد دليل،لكن عندي أنا دليل يسكن داخل روحي وفي طيات قلبي،وأنا أقسم بحياة الذي لا يموت لو أن اجتمعت كل قوى العالم لتحاول انتزاعه من داخل نفسي لن تقدر ولن تستطيع.



Monday, April 27, 2015

Avivorous (Noha ElNashar, Visionaries)

Avivorous
“Laura, they have arrived!” A shout erupted in the control room, making everyone jump at its intensity. They all stared at him, making a blush creep its way to his face. “Sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He said sheepishly, awkwardly scratching his neck.
To relieve him of his embarrassment, a woman, Laura on the other side of the room got up and made her way to him, shaking her head in the process and trying to suppress her laughs. “Okay, Andrew, calm down; I’m here. Show me what you’re talking about.”
Andrew zoomed in to the heap of bodies lying down on the grass as Laura bended over to see what was on the screen. There were four figures lying beside each other in such uncomfortable positions that she knew they would suffer cramps for days following their wake. They looked so much alike. Laura had no doubt they were siblings. Before she could ask Andrew about them, the screen changed, showing a girl with jet black hair lying down, her hair covering half of her face. The strand of hair covering her nose and its movement into and out of her nose was the only indication that she’s alive. She caught a movement in the somewhere beyond the girl; when she focused on the sky beyond, she could see a helicopter flying away.
“This is one of ours,” Andrew said, pointing at the helicopter. “It’s the one that got them there.”
Laura took a seat beside him and scratched her chin like she always did when she was immersed in her own thoughts. She tried to think of where “there” is, but she came up blank. All she could see were asphalt roads and a stretch of green land far in the distance. A park maybe. She looked up at Andrew and asked, “Why are they in different places? I mean why is she dumped on the road and the others, as I recall, in the woods? Why not just put them all together?”
“That, Laura, is something only I can answer,” A loud voice entered the room, slamming the door behind him. When he walked in, everybody stopped talking. They were, in a way or another, like deer caught in a headlight.
Laura stood up and smoothed down her shirt and walked up to the muscular man who walked in, taking in his askew lips, the glasses that rest on his hooked nose, the way his hands never stopped scrabbling notes in his leather notebook. When she was right next to him, he took his eyes off the notebook and stopped writing. He smiled at her and leaned to kiss her cheek. Before she could speak or ask him anything, he said, “I am doing something, Laura. Something huge! It is both rewarding and worth taking all the risks.”
He led her to a seat and stood in the middle of the room, watching as each person turned their seats away from the screens and centered their attention on him.
“What I am doing is an experiment. A test. I like to call it Avivorous for personal preferences. But I can promise you all that if we work together, we will reap the rewards.” He announced in his bossy demeanor that he adopted whenever he wanted the crew to do something for him.
Laura raised a hand and said, “Could you tell us what exactly is that experiment about, Marcus? And what is it that you expect of us?”
Marcus clapped his hands enthusiastically and said, “It’s really simple! All you have to do is watch those people make their way through the abandoned city I have dumped them in--” Laura could feel coldness creeping its way through her body. Something about how Marcus was so excited to perform an experiment on humans felt extremely repugnant. “But,” Marcus went on. “Our role is not just watching them. Andrew, you’re responsible for telling them about the experiment and what they’re supposed to do to yield the best results.”
Andrew was about to interrupt when Marcus put a finger up in the air signaling for him to be quiet till he’s finished. “Laura,” His eyes met hers and softened. He smiled as he said, “You monitor their behaviors and actions and report them to me. And I, with help from Candice, will study them and come up with what I need.”
“And what might that be?” Andrew asked with a hint of sarcasm that Marcus noticed but chose to let go.
Just then, a red-headed girl with a messy bun and a lab coat came in, holding pamphlets and another stack of papers that had the word “Avivorous” written in bold ink on them.
“This,” Marcus motioned at the papers as Candice, the redheaded girl, started to distribute them. “Contains everything you need to know about the experiment. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some other things to tend to.”
And with that he left.
Andrew looked up from the stacks of paper he was holding and his eyes rested on Laura. “Before you read those papers, why do you think he’s doing this?”
Laura stayed silent for a second then shook her head and said, “Well, he’s your brother. You ought to know him best.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow at her and said disbelievingly, “Oh yeah? Well, you’re his fiancée. What about that for knowing him best?”
“Well, I guess Marcus isn’t open with anyone.” She said with finality in her voice that made Andrew drop the subject and start reading what was written on those papers. And, as they both read, they started to know why Marcus never told them about that experiment. Because if he did, they would have killed him first before allowing him to carry on such a transgression.


Sunday, April 26, 2015

Paper Airplanes (Nora Keshk, Visionaries)

Paper Airplanes
Her thoughts were like paper airplanes. They were literally airplanes.
She launched a hundred airplanes outside her bedroom window upstairs. Each plane easily found its way home somewhere. They all were dedicated to her late best friend, Ethan; they all got lost somewhere in the small town.
Each clean sheet was surfaced with ink that bled through. Nonetheless, she took time to fold and crease each section of the paper to make it into a flying airplane. Each letter was filled with the love she never got to express to him. But the hundredth letter, launched in the windiest day known to the quiet town, traveled a far distance until it reached a green tree on a stranger's porch and then fell to the green patches of grass on which he would walk by to get the early newspaper, where he later found it. His wondering mind helped him unfold the neatly creased paper airplane, where it soon revealed one of her paper thoughts…
Dear Ethan,
It's been a year since you passed away – at exactly five o'clock in the morning. I was there with you, telling you everything was going to be fine. Then I heard that heart retching sound of terror; the sound of the loud, clear, and deafening flat beep coming from the cardiac monitor. 
I also forgot to mention, your mom was there too. She was asleep on the couch by the window overlooking the town. When she heard the sound, the fright on her face was beyond the one on mine.
We all miss you so much.
While you were asleep earlier in the day, I started rambling things about us, hoping you could hear me, so that the next morning I'd find out if you felt the same way.
But I never knew.
I never knew if you felt the same way I did. I never knew if you felt butterflies in your stomach the way I did when I'd hear you laugh.
And that's why I'm writing to you.
The last words you told me were, "I'm feeling tired." And now I can't help but think I'm feeling the same now that you're gone. Tired.
This is my hundredth letter to you and also my last.
All I wanted to say were the words I didn't get to say to you, and they're the most said words in the universe – I love you.
Your Best Friend, Lana
And soon enough the stranger who found the letter will be doing the same as Lana did. He'll talk to his late wife; this time sending her his paper thoughts.



Saturday, April 25, 2015

Through Grey Eyes (Bothaina Ayman, Visionaries)

Through Grey Eyes

His vision was laced with dull colors of grey, black, and white. The lack of joyful colors caused his steel eyes to bore on the whiteboard. His hands were folded together, while twiddling his thumbs.
Who is he, you ask?
Nathaniel is an average teenage boy, with average grades, average life, and an average family; however, his vision differed from his normal, boring life – you see, Nathaniel is color blinded, which is inherited from his deceased grandfather. Sadly, his parents cannot afford enough money for treatment. 
Nathaniel was seated in the last seat, left corner by the window – he wouldn't want to drag too much attention, would he now? However, his mismatched clothes did in fact brought too many unwanted eyes. His wardrobe consisted of a purple baggy shirt, green pants, blue converse with red and blue shoelace, along with a blue back bag, which was almost empty. 
He gazed out the window, looking at the plain grey sky. In reality, he knew what the sky looks like; his mother explained every single detail about it – a wide, blue blanket, stained with feathery like cottons – alias the clouds. At night, Nathaniel would imagine the night sky a lady with a long inky dress, adorned with diamond rings and earrings. 
Looking down at the grass – also grey, somewhat darker than that of the sky. Grass, meaning green, like his pants, his father's eye color, the wallpaper of his bedroom. 
As a child, Nathaniel was considered to be an outsider, also "The weird one". In kindergarten, his English teacher asked him "what color is my shirt?", and with all confidence, Nathaniel answered "Black!" 
That's not right. The teacher raised a very perplexed eyebrow, then looked down at his brown shirt. He decided to ask another question regarding colors "another question, Nate," the boy nodded "what color is the sky?"
Nathaniel curled his lips in a beaming smile "Grey!" 
The class broke into laughter, leaving the boy with a big question mark above his head. Nathaniel heard the teacher mutter something about 'parents', 'call', and 'colors'. 
So, there he was, sitting in his own plain, dull world, colored in grey, black, and white. Boredom engulfed his life, depression grasped his mind, and loneliness broke his ties with the outer world. It didn't occur to him that something so simple as colors could differ in his simple life, but the fact that it did bothered him terribly.



Section Choices (Noah and Zahraa, Divergent)

I can't believe section assigned me with her.
She has no field experience whatsoever. Her subtlty is below zero. She actually went of asked the bartender for the information we wanted; she won't hold a gun, and she always has this annoying innocent smile on her face. When I ask her why she joined section, she tells me "to help the country of course to get rid of of evil spirits out there." So basically I'm stuck in India with a rookie, wack job.

I can't believe section assigned me with him.
He's so megalomaniac. He thinks he's freaking 007 for God's sake. He was so mad when I told him to ride the elephant. How can we skip that spectacular chance, I mean we won't be in India everday!
He keeps talking about killing and shooting people. I can't stand hearing gun shots and seeing blood. We have to spread love and peace. He freaked out when I asked the bartender for information, I mean the guy was nice enough to take my name and phone number in case he found anything out. Why wouldn't he understands that people are nice?