No inhibitions – كلنا معاذ

He slumped over his desk, dusk creeping upon him like a stealthy thief. His head was filled with a buzzing which threatened to overpower him as the computer screen began to blur, like a foggy windscreen with limited visibility.

He glared at the birds chirping outside as each chirp was like an absurd stab of unwarranted joy at this time of deep distress.

It had been an hour since he had received the news and still he could not bring himself to move away from the damning screen.

He recalled the wide-eyed, cauterizing feeling of helplessness as a young child lost in the mall, and reflected that it was not unlike the feeling he was experiencing now. His hair lay tousled from him carving new swathes as he ran his hands through his hair repetitively, for lack of anything concrete to do. He realized that he was in the premature stages of sudden shock.

Well-intentioned with a desire for justice.

Capitalizing on the stoic image of past warriors.

It was all an excuse. A ragged, flimsy screen which masked core tenets of intolerance. Sweetly dripping poisonous, honeyed words.

You were no-one, he scoffed.

They had been drawn from a cesspool of ignorance and blind hate; ears closed and eyes shut as they blindly searched for a purpose in the world. Unfortunate by-products of socio-economic failure who wished for instant recognition; whose beliefs operated on binaries where there was no leeway for discussion.

The figure in the cage looked at the individuals who stood before him in unyielding rows like sheep in soldier’s uniform; faces obscured to hide the fact that at some inherent level they knew that what they were doing was wrong.

One knelt down to light the stream of petrol.

Young, fragmented minds who had eagerly turned towards authority, disillusioned with a self-inflicted unfulfilling life.

The fire raced towards the cage.

A hideous, sickening shriek.

He turned away from the screen.







5 thoughts on “No inhibitions – كلنا معاذ

  1. Wow, that is such powerful and beautiful writing…of an act that is anything but. You have captured so much with these words, and how horrific the act ~ and such a disgusting display of what humans have inside ~ you bring the emotions felt by us all, and with this we must move along to make the world a better place.

  2. At some point in the life of a writer of fiction comes the realisation that the personal, the intimate lived experience is the gold that he can give the world. Abstractions belong in political essays. I am old enough, and you are young enough that I can scold you for mixing the two.
    No Inhibitions shows a good grasp of the basics of writing but could have been more powerful as fiction if you had stayed within the POV of the protagonist and not strayed into the realm of social and political comment. I wanted to know what your character did, and how he was changed as a result of the revulsion he felt.
    I look forward to reading more of your work. Keep writing!

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