SHORT STORY SHEMSI ELSANI
In Between TEXT: SHEMSI ELSANI IMAGE: MATE MARSCHALKO / FLICKR
Squatting down on that beach brought about all those long lost memories. Still memories, regardless. The sand felt warm beneath his bare feet.
was red, smelly, and flowing. He had never seen blood before. He had almost passed out, but fortunately he did not. He was scared to the bone, indefinitely.
Waves came, beating the sand tirelessly, the way it has been for so many years. Yet still, they stick together, ironically.
Slowly, he swayed down from his bicycle. Stood up by his BMX. Not sure what to do next. Hesitating a little, he walked up to the body laying by the lane. He was praying hard, silently, that the boy will still be alive, or at least not having turned into a ghost or anything of the equivalent.
“Don’t go too far, buddy!” An 8-year-old went crazy with the kite. A kite. He had never seen one before, let alone to get a hold of one. He was a very bright boy. Genius, even. And a happy one too, for now. It was evening; the rain was so heavy that you couldn’t even see what was in front of you. It was so loud that you became mute and deaf, all at once. The wind was so fast that you couldn’t stand straight. He crouched down, calling for his friend. His only friend. When they first met, it wasn’t a pleasant scene. Far from a happy one. Yet the bond was so tight that no space was left in between. They were only 8 then. *** There was blood all over. On the school uniform, face, hair and even on the ground. The red, sticky liquid was flowing mercilessly from the broken lips. Something looked like a gaping wound on the tummy, covered with sticky liquid. It 44 | CQ MAGAZINE | #6
“Hello. Are you okay?” There were vibrations in those words. He was still in shock, scared, worried and confused. Not to mention, all alone, except with a boy who appeared as good as dead. With blood all over him and flooded on the ground. He moved closer, near the body. His face filled with blood made him looked disfigured. His hair stuck all over his face, some already hardened by dried blood. “He must have been laying here for some time now,” he thought. He tried to figure out how on earth this boy, in his school uniform (God knows from which school) at that hour, ended up bleeding by the lane used by no one except himself. Something creepy swept over his young mind. And for a brief moment, he wanted to run. So bloody badly. But for reasons that he could not explain, he did not. Instead, he stayed. He stepped forward, took a closer look at