AN ANTHOLOGY FEATURING THE WINNERS OF OUR WRITING CONTESTS
American Language Center Rabat
American Language Center Rabat - Anthology Copyright by the ALC and respective contributors.
Editor: Rihane Zoubairi
For more information email:
alcwritingchallenge@gmail.com
American Language Center Rabat 4, Rue Tanger Rabat, Morocco, 10000 www.alcrabat.com Facebook/alcrabat IG: alcrabatofficial
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The completion of this undertaking could not have been possible without the assistance of many people whose names may not all be enumerated. Every contribution is sincerely appreciated. However, we would like to acknowledge and give our warmest
thanks
to
Michael
McMillan
(Director,
ALC
Rabat), and Hannah Graves (Social Media & Activities Coordinator)
who
made
this
work
possible
thanks
to
their constant support of this project, and every ALC Writing Contest. To all our contest judges: Ayesha Louise Barber, Leonard A.
Wallstein,
Stephen
Kosner,
Haytham
Chhilif,
Anes
Ahmed, and Mohammadreza Fassadi Chimeh for their time and invaluable contribution.
This collection contains short stories and poems written by
the
winners
organized
by
of
the
different
Writers’
writing
Club
of
competitions the
American
Language Center of Rabat.
The Writers’ Club is one of many clubs that the American Language Center of Rabat offers to its students, and now to the public. Our newly formed partnership with the
Olive
Writers
will
help
us
achieve
our
goal
of
creating a stable group of people interested in writing and providing them with an environment where they are supported
to
learn
and
discuss
different
writing
techniques and work on their pieces. The curriculum of the club is tailored to assist the members in the process of workshopping and revising their creative pieces by taking advantage of each member and involving them in the process of helping each other through feedback, insight, and constructive criticism which aims to improve editing and analytical skills.
Join
us
at
the
Writers’
Club,
and
participate
in
our
writing contests to be part of this catalogue.
All stories have been reformatted and edited slightly for grammatical mistakes.
POETRY CONTEST
Winter 2022 SOCIAL COMMENTARY SLAM POETRY
Remember by Manal Guellida
1st Place Remember, by Manal Guellida Welcome to a world where some own cars, fancy houses, suits, and ties of famous stylists, When on the other side, scars are wide open, and nobody is paying attention Especially in cold weather with no light, no real shelter With no tight ties with rich members. Remember. Welcome to a world where winters are different, Some have heaters, better conditions, And some have nothing but old blankets, less recognition, and valid tickets to bitter starvation, In the middle of a forgotten land where no one gives you a hand. Remember. Welcome to a world where your essential needs are nothing but a dream Where your words are always responded by: What do you mean? You’re seen as an empty shell with no profit on a long term scale In a world where they say: Welcome sir, you’re going to be served in one second Based on your dress, your address, your perfume, your fragrance
But there’s no difference Whether you’re wealthy or unhealthy Because what makes the deal is not your last name or position, It’s shame to say it, But your education, dedication, respect, is all what matters. Remember. In a world where they say: Hello, how are you doing? Do you need help? It’s been a while! We were waiting for your slightest request! Where they say to others: Sorry, we don’t have the budget to fix the situation, The solution? Wait until the next elections, they might do something A world where principles, discipline, ethics, and values are nothing but nonsense In a world where we give you a chance depending on the number of zeros in your bank account And sounds like with an empty pocket we give you no consideration What a frustration! Remember. Fake smiles, false promises We all know now the missing pieces of the play, We all know now that it’s a give-and-take relationship that can end or start anyway With a simple transformation, This is how it functions. Remember.
Peaceful Place by Fatima Zahra Atmani
2nd Place Peaceful Place, by Fatima Zahra Atmani If there was to be a most "peaceful place" I imagine it would be surrounded by olive trees Fields of daisies, jasmines, and sunflowers For when humanity picks, she picks wild flowers For when humanity stood in front of an unjust power Put daisies in gun barrels Sunflower seeds in soldier pockets And waved the olive branches height in the sky For humanity would never pick bombs over sunsets and sunrises Not watching out for falling fire She would rather stargaze For humanity at her most fragile is not weak She will survive in kids happy they saved their pet fish In the way a thread is woven in delicate dancing footsteps She will keep echoing in the hollowest chest Will try to reroute calcified brain patterns And scream as loud as possible Stop it. It will be too late For when humanity was pushed into fear She handed her kids pebbles and stones Because humanity isn't meant to set on a pedestal and look pretty
Humanity would not hesitate to make us cry over every party For humanity will try to be in every party She will try to hold back soldiers She will throw love in the way will bring up history of every time the world made-up Every said sorry And it still won't be enough And if it was She'll be in fear that it's again temporary But she'll build a cemetery And trust us to bury the hatchet will roll up her sleeves and get back to work And she'll be wishing on dandelions that someday she can have a most peaceful place Where someday humanity can bloom
Male Body Machine by Amalou Ouassou
3rd Place Male Body Machine, by Amalou Ouassou The news just boomed; interruption to regular programming invading our living room, stomping through the speakerphones of our weapon factory.
We are going to war. And I, my father’s adult son am waiting to be tossed out this storage room where I’ve been collecting dust. I am now of use, And of steel of limb and mind. I am fueled with the chemical compound of primary school flag salutes, and hormonal violence that courses the banks of a divine plan. Onto a stage of bullets like hail, and showers of sand, and torn up arms of dying friends.
Comrade, this is a badly told tale, for I don’t know who “we”, or “they” are
or who draws the lines -from a wiped out desk in a dry cleaned suitor what side of the two is good. All I know is our order: “Strike! Not the kids, nor the wives, nor the trees. Or do, we won’t mind but in theory, we are kind.”
And all I know is That at best we’ll be bronze in a newly built park. Or we’ll be names in papers, in attics, we’ll be stored. All I know is that when it ends, if it ends we’ll be numbers at rest in an inventory report.
Stand Out by Ikram Bouali
Honorable Mention Stand Out, by Ikram Bouali
Green spaces, electric buses Tall buildings, towers, and theaters We speak Chinese, German, Russian We speak English, Hebrew, Spanish We are class, we are perfect, we are urbanized, civilized We went far, we said We respect all religions, all tones, all voices and all thoughts But we still, dislike black, we hate black, we push black we harass black When we see black we say: Azzi, Ebola, African But we forget that we are Africans When we see black we say you smell, you’re black, you gotta go back to your country black On the outside we are fine, we are classy we are fancy We wear Prada,Dolce & Gabbana We eat Sushi and speak Fassi But we still, look down at Black And you see, I still say black ‘cause black is my heart
Black is every hungry heart who calls for fake justice Black is seeing without reacting Is turning your face down and speaking in a hushed voice when black is being intimidated When black is being harassed and killed
Black, is plugging your ears when you hear them screaming asking for help asking for justice Black is cowardice It is not enough to add #BlackLivesMatters# It is not enough to show your sympathy on Instagram stories Stop, stop being cold, and still Stand out and react Show that your voice is not a broken record Show that your soul is alive Stand out and react Show that your heart is not black
SPOOKY STORY CONTEST
Fall 2021 HORROR FICTION SHORT STORIES
My Lover by Arwa Jemai
1st Place My Lover, by Arwa Jemai The
sound
of
a
slamming
door
shook
me
out
of
my
sleep. The room was engulfed in a deafening silence while the only source of light was the moon shining outside on this cold, cloudy night. And once again I’m waking up to an empty bed, my wife’s side still warm, signaling me that she just left. Like usual. I
lie
on
my
hovering
back
above
and
the
contemplate
king-sized
the
bed.
glass
My
ceiling
mind
was
blurring with memories of my relationship with the love of my life a year ago. How lively, cheerful and bustling she was. She used to glow whenever she smiled, lighting the whole room and warming every single present soul. Her laugh was extremely contagious and sounded like a melody
to
my
remembering
ears.
the
Now
last
I
time
find I
myself
saw
her
incapable beautiful
of
and
unique features relaxed or genuinely content and joyful. Even her eyes lost the gleam that used to melt any iceberg. A
lump
climbs
throwing
up.
its
The
way
to
sadness
my
throat,
and
enveloping
my
I
feel
heart
like was
becoming too heavy for me to bear. I can feel my heart slowly tear apart at every memory. Now I could only wish to
go
back
in
time
and
find
out
when
everything went wrong. Was I the reason?
and
how
I probably will never find the answer to that, because every time I try to bring this up, she would either avoid the questions and change the subject or just pretend to have an urgent unexpected emergency and leave the house. A few seconds passed, or a few minutes, maybe even an hour, I really don’t know, the time just quickly flew. But what I do know is that the first rays of sunshine brightening the room were what broke the thread of my thoughts and the stance my nostalgia pulled me into. I
flip
over
to
my
left,
where
my
bedside
table
was
standing, and lock eyes with my clock. 5:30 it showed. I sigh, realizing with despise that I only slept three hours, and now I’m finding myself preparing to go to work again. I walk slowly and wobbly to our shared desk. Her part
was
colorful
and
filled
with
hair
and
skincare
products, various perfumes, and cosmetics that were covered by a thick layer of dust. She hasn’t picked any of those for months. On the contrary, my side of the desk was stacked with long piles of documents, and randomly scattered pens were lying on them. However, while my eyes were still scanning Alana’s side, a small rectangular card caught my attention.
Confusion was clear on my face as I studied the piece of
paper.
I
didn’t
know
Alana
went
to
therapy.
She
never informed me; neither did she at least insinuate it. My heart breaks even more at the thought of the pain she must have been going through. I should have taken her
change
more
seriously
than
just
a
phase.
I
was
supposed to be her husband, the one she goes to for comfort and reassurance. I am the one that decided to dedicate the rest of my life to taking care of and loving her. So why am I starting to forget about the principles and priorities my younger-self set? And it’s now when I’m thinking about it, I should be the one going to therapy… I look up at the small one-story house and instantly feel at ease. This place gives off cozy comfortable and safe vibes. I’m sure if you enter that house, you would never want to leave. The front yard was clearly maintained. The grass was freshly cut, white and pink already bloomed roses were dispersed
everywhere,
and
bushes
of
white
lilies
enclosed the brick path from each side. The orange golden rays of sunshine were reflected on the walls and the windows, making the entire property glow with a beautiful and relaxing gleam that warms the heart. I admire the place longer, taking in all of its details. I know my wife loves coming here, she has always been very fond of simple but pretty sceneries. I snap out of my thoughts and waltz to the front door and absent-mindedly knocked. The door swung open almost immediately, frightening me on the way.
I examine the tall smiling woman in front of me, not sure what else to do. Her gorgeous forest green eyes were
the
indeed
a
first very
thing
to
beautiful
catch
my
woman
attention. in
her
She
early
was
thirties,
however, I couldn’t help but compare her to Alana. The latter had silky shoulder-length blond hair that perfectly matched
her
light
brown
orbs,
which
turned
yellow
under the sunlight. The very visible freckles sprinkled on her face made her even more unique than she already was. -“Good evening. I hope you had a safe trip. I’m Doctor Abaya, nice to meet you Mr. Relish.” She exclaimed, extending her hand for me to shake and I do so, softly mumbling a "nice to meet you" back. The doctor then leads me through a narrow hallway, where we find a door that, I suppose was her office. My guess gets confirmed the moment we enter the space, and I end up losing my voice once again. This house holds too many surprises. In front of me was a fully glazed wall that showed the tall buildings of New York City. I was too stunned by the sight to even speak. Dr. Abaya's laughter pulled me out of my daze. “It’s beautiful, right? I love watching the sunset from here.” I leisurely nod, scrutinizing the rest of the room. I really need to stop spacing out so much… There was a wooden desk in the center of the room and right
in
front
of
it
an
umber
couch
and
armchair.
Everything was simple if we omit the all-wall window and the ten feet bookshelf. I loved the way it strangely smelled like coffee, cookies, and old books.
I think I just found my new comfort place… -“Get comfortable, would you like some tea or coffee?” The green-eyed doctor asked, signaling me to sit on the couch. -“Some tea please.” It’s been two months now that I’m attending therapy sessions.
I’ve
been
feeling
so
much
better.
I
never
thought it would benefit me this much. My relationship with my wife is slowly but surely developing and we’re more and more becoming our younger selves that were deeply in love with each other. And
I
totally
give
all
the
credit
to
the
psychologist
working with both of us. She’s so understanding and easy to talk to that whenever I come to the office we spend three hours talking with each other. I can tell that our
relationship
wasn’t
all
doctor-patient
but
a
friendship is progressively forming. Nonetheless, Alana still goes out late at night and would get extremely upset when I ask her about it. Therefore, I can’t say the same about my work life. For a month
now,
every
week
a
female
colleague
resigns,
leaving us with more and more work to do. I don’t even have time to read the newspaper or watch TV as I did on the weekends. My life became a repetitive routine. I would wake up, go to work, go to therapy, come home, make dinner and go to sleep. For a whole month now. And
it’s
only
excessively and fatigue.
an
understatement
overwhelmed
and
to
say
drowned
that
with
I
feel
pressure
And I was really anticipating today’s session with Dr. Abaya. And as if on cue, a voice message appears on my phone screen. -“Hello Mr. Relish. I hope everything’s going all right. I’m sorry for notifying you this late but I must cancel today’s meeting. I’ve got an important event to attend, and I wouldn’t be able to be on time. I hope you can find it in you to understand. Have a nice day.” A sigh of exasperation leaves the barrier of my lips. I was looking forward to this day from the start of the week, and here I am now, probably going to spend it at work again. I send a message to my wife, informing her that I’ll be late tonight, and go back to work. 6:40 pm and even more documents fill my desk. I rub my eyes with the back of my hands and a yawn escapes my mouth. when
But I
pay
the
tiredness
attention
to
quickly the
evacuates
radio
my
rumbling
body
in
the
background. -“…Onx River, was found, once again, a female body. We’re still trying to find its identity. We got no other information
other
than
it
is
another
crime
from
the
murderer that leaves an R mark engraved on the skin of their victims. There were also no signs of sexual abuse, and the victim was also a young woman in her thirties. We…” The sounds become more and more distant and blurry, and I feel myself get dizzy. Alana still goes out at night, and alone… How could I let that happen? When there are dangerous criminals on the streets. I hurriedly packed my laptop and the few documents I will have to work on at home.
I stick a yellow post-it on the computer’s screen and rushed out of the building while calling my wife. The door slammed open as I trudge inside. I step into the living room and some papers catch my attention, which
makes
my
eyebrows
furrow.
I
take
one
in
my
hands and start reading.
Patient Name: Alana Delilah Campbell Diagnosis: Schizoaffective Disorder I didn’t need to continue reading to understand what all of this meant. My wife was mentally ill and I didn’t know. I wasn’t even suspecting it. I
drop
the
paper
back
on
the
table
and
go
to
the
kitchen searching for Alana. But stupefaction shakes my body as I look at the full table. There were two sets of cutlery and two half-filled wine glasses. I move to the left side of the dining table where I usually sit and pick the glass up. A strong uneasy feeling wraps around my body when I notice the red lipstick. My wife hadn’t used make-up for ages. And suddenly I hear it. A barely audible whimper made my blood run cold. It was so faint that I thought I was only hallucinating. But when a second louder scream resonated, chills and goosebumps skate over my skin, making my hair stand. I hastily followed the direction from where the sound came. The only door present in that hallway was the trapdoor on the floor that lead to the basement. As I was about to lift it, I hesitated about whether I should just go in or call the police.
-“Alana,
drop
the
knife!
Please…
we
can
talk
this
through. I say, in hope, she would listen to me.” Relief washes over me when I see her starting to release her weapon. Until at the last minute, the blade pierces the doctor’s chest. -“W-why... why would you... do that...” -“I didn't send you to her so you could cheat on me. I didn't get rid of all those women in your life for you to turn to my best friend! You know I hate betrayal. And Scarlett betrayed me!” -“You misunderstood... there was nothing between me and her… Alana, you should have talked to me..” -“How can I trust you again when you stabbed my back so many times! I love you too much to lose you.” She laughs hysterically, slowly approaching me. The
following
encircling
morning,
the
front
the
porch
whole of
neighborhood
the
two-story
was
house.
Whispers and cries were mixing with deafening sirens, and
the
street
was
engulfed
in
red
and
blue
lights
coming from the police cars and ambulances. Three
scoop
stretchers
were
laying
on
the
floor,
covered with white sheets. People pray for the murderer to get caught. Little did they know, the murderer was already laying under one of those sheets, holding her husband's cold and lifeless hand.
And as the ink and the words end her, Their story does too.
Dogs can't Talk, Zineb El Atmani
2nd Place Dogs can't Talk, by Zineb El Atmani "Wow now that’s a real house," Ross said as he got out of the car. "My grandparents love old and vintage things" smiled Jessica. "I can tell so" Added Louis "It looks like one of those mansions in old movies where the prince has to save his princess" "Who knows, maybe there is a princess inside who is waiting for you to save her," said Jess, giving him a smile. Louis was about to say something when I interrupted him "Ok but if we want to take full advantage of this day together before Jess’s family arrives tomorrow, we have to stop talking and move" We were the day before Thanksgiving, and Jess’s family had invited us this year to spend it with them in the country house of Jess' grandparents. So I suggested to my friends to spend a night under the stars as we did during our high school years because we've all taken different paths since our graduation two years ago, and we can’t see each other as often as we want.No phones or technology. Just us and the forest. "Relax love, we still have time" Louis laughed, hugging me.
I turned my head and smiled at him. Louis has been my boyfriend for almost 5 years. We met in high school and we
haven't
left
each
other
since.
I
think
that
he’s
planning of proposing to me. I found a ring in a case in the drawers of his nightstand when I visited him at the university, but I haven’t talked to him about it. "No I think Olivia is right, it's going to be dark soon and we have to put up the tents and light a fire," said Mona, one of my friends. "Okay at your command chef Olivia" laughed Jess "Oh and if you hear footsteps at night, don’t be afraid, it's just a stray dog that often comes here. " We spent the rest of the afternoon putting up the tents, laughing,
running,
playing
hide
and
seek
in
the
big
house ... it felt so good to have a good time together after so many months of separation. When we finished it was already dark. We slipped into our sleeping bags and started talking while admiring the sky and the stars. Louis
was
imitating
our
old
principal
in
a
pretty
successful way when I noticed Mona's pale and sweaty face. " Mona, are you okay? " I asked her, a little worried. The rest of the group turned to her, and she looked embarrassed. " Yeah, it’s just…I think it's the cookies you brought and gave us. My stomach hurts. I knew I shouldn't have eaten them even if you insisted. Sorry but you have always been a bad cook"
" Hey, that’s not very nice. " Ross replied defending me, the first time in a while. "We all ate it and we're fine so we can't really blame Liv." Mona didn’t even take the time to reply to Ross. She got up
quickly
and
started
running
towards
the
house
making us understand not to wait for her and that she was probably going to stay there for a while. More
than
30
minutes
passed
and
my
anxiety
was
starting to increase. What was taking her so long? Louis must have noticed the worry on my face because he whispered to me "I'm starting to worry too. Do you think we should go see her? " "I’m going to see if she’s okay, no need to come with me it’s alright. " I
got
up
and
took
my
coat.
I
opened
the
door
and
entered the house and started looking for her. I walked through all the rooms on the ground floor but I couldn't find her anywhere. I was about to go upstairs when I saw something sticking out from behind the couch. I slowly approached to see what it was. I
must
have
screamed
very
loudly
because
the
next
moment all my friends were there, watching in horror the scene that I discovered a minute earlier. It was Mona, lying on the floor, lips, and eyelids blue, a syringe stuck at the neck. "H..How it happened," Ross finally managed to say. "I...I was looking for her, and..and I saw her laying here and..oh my god" I ducked my head into Jess's neck and started to cry.
"We
can't
stay
here,"
Louis
said
with
a
strange
expression on his face. "Where are the keys to your car Jess?" She turned to face him, her eyes filled with tears "I put them on this table here" "They are not here," said Louis with an expression of panic on his face. "It's impossible I always put them there usually" "Are you sure you didn't put them somewhere else?" Ross replied in a shrill voice. "I don't know ok! How am I supposed to remember with everything that's going on?" "Ok everyone calm down, we just have to separate to look for them. Maybe you put them in another room while we were playing hide and seek." "Ok ok. Ross and Olivia, you are going to search in the house, and Jess and I outside and in the barn, we were there earlier, the keys may be over there " We went our separate ways, and I entered the house with Ross, and we searched the ground floor rooms from top to bottom but found nothing. "Hey Ross, I have to go to the bathroom, you can go out and join the others if you want" "No don’t worry I’ll wait for you in the living room" I nodded and made my way to the bathroom. I got out a few minutes later and walked to the living room where Ross was supposed to be waiting for me, but couldn't find him as agreed. He was probably outside with the others.
Suddenly windows
I
felt
and
my
body
doors
were
shiver
even
closed
as
though
if
all
someone
the was
watching me …I joined the others outside very quickly. "We didn't find anything," said Jess. “Where's Ross?” Louis asked. "I thought he was with you? He told me he was going to wait for me in the living room, but I couldn't find him there so I thought he was here" We threw worried glances at each other, and without even saying a word, we run out to reach the house. We walked quickly to the first room on the ground floor, the kitchen. We opened the door and we stayed there, shocked at the scene we were seeing ... Ross was lying there, covered in blood. A knife was stuck in his back. Jess glanced at Ross one last, then stormed out of the kitchen, we followed her, as shocked and sad as her, without glancing at our friend's corpse. "First Jess and now Ross, who's next on the list?" "Okay just calm down for a second" say I try to think of a way out of there "I have an idea, we're going to go around
the
everyone
house
will
go
staying
to
one
together
floor
and
this we'll
time. try
to
Then find
something to defend ourselves with or maybe find the keys, are you okay? " They nodded, but I saw in their eyes that they didn't quite understand what I was saying. We walked around the rooms quickly without finding anyone, then we separated as I had announced. Louis went up to search the second floor, Jess the first, and I the ground floor.
20
minutes
passed
when
Louis
came
to
join
me
displaying a disappointed expression announcing that he had found nothing. He approached me and hugged me. "Don't worry, we'll be fine, I promise .... why are your hands so cold?" "I'm just a little cold" I replied with a weak smile He gave me a weird look, then tried to change the subject. "Don't you think Jess takes a long time to come down? I know there are a lot of rooms but still ... I have a bad feeling come on let's go see her" He pulled me by the arm before I could even say a word. On the first floor, we started looking for Jess and it didn't take us so long to find her ... She was lying on the ground in a puddle of blood, a knife stuck in her back with an inscription on the wall: "So beautiful on the outside but so ugly on the inside" I wanted to throw up. Who could have done that? She was
my
best
friend
since
we
were
5
years
old
and
seeing her like that tore my heart. I burst into tears and rushed downstairs, followed by Louis. He caught up to me and hugged me, whispering that I had nothing to fear, that he would protect me. I knew he was as scared and sad as I was but was trying to stay calm "I don't wanna die Louis."
"Don't worry Liv you won't ... we are going to stay there ok? We are going to lock ourselves in the living room and we will wait for Liv's parents to come and save us. We'll take it in turns to stand guard. When I’ll feel tired I'll wake you up to take my turn ok? I brought a knife just in case, I hope we won't need to use it ... " I offered to stand guard first. He refused at first, but I insisted, he looked so tired ... He finally agreed and put his head on my lap and fell asleep. I was awake for over an hour when suddenly I felt my eyelids getting too heavy; it wouldn't hurt if I closed my eyes for a few seconds ... I opened my eyes and looked around. Louis was still sleeping. I smiled. I started to stroke his hair, staring at him affectionately. He looked so beautiful. I leaned in, kissed his forehead then slowly remove the knife stuck in his heart. " If only you didn’t cheat on me with my best friend" I mumbled as I stood up from the couch. I smiled and leaned into his face whispering in his ear "So tell me now love, how does it feel to be betrayed by the person you trusted the most? " I opened the door of the house and walked over to the barn. knew the ring was not for me but for the one who was supposed to be my friend...my best friend. I opened the barn door and took the can of gasoline that I had hidden when we arrived.
Of course, I could have stopped talking to them, turn the page and let them live their life together but I just couldn't. I had done my little investigation and found that everyone I trusted had been lying to me ever since. Mona and Ross knew about it. I even read exchanges between
him
and
Louis
where
he
said
he
would
be
better with Jess than with a crazy girl like me. Mona even said that I was a bad person. Why did they think that was the case? I poured the whole can of gasoline around the house and took a match pack from my pocket. They had all lied to me and broke my heart They all deserved to suffer so when Jess invited me I saw it as the perfect opportunity to get revenge. I started with Mona. I just waited for her to turn her back on me in the house to stick a syringe in her neck. Of course, I had put a medicine that gave stomach aches in the cookie that I gave her, just to make it easier for me. I did the same with Jess and Ross. Louis was the easiest. I smiled. I was so smart. I was about to throw the match when I heard a noise. I turned and saw a dog staring at me, not daring to approach.
The
dog
that
Jess
more as I threw the match. "Thank God dogs can't talk"
talked
about…I
smiled
Our New Gods Came Home Amalou Ouassou
3rd Place Our New Gods Came Home, by Amalou Ouassou The red vehicle that left one morning came back black, and out of it came three people instead of two. I saw them out of the first-floor window, perched on the son’s glass desk where our old cage lay destroyed. I saw them carry boxes to the front door; two in the hands of the man and two shared between a woman and the boy. Their woman was new, and the boy and man were not redheads anymore. Something new in the way the stairs were climbed pierced the air, a frizzing excitement in the steps; it pricked my hair and made my legs twitch. I moved as fast as I could to the center of the desk, right in front of our old cage, and braced to welcome. The father and his son would burst through the door in a second. They would be mad at the mess, I knew it; at the torn school papers and the broken cage, but they left many days and nights and the summer must have followed them too. The five of us did what we had to. And then, the four remaining managed after the fight. Hunger was to blame, and thirst too, and the crumb of bread on the carpet that Brown and Spotted saw at once. Awful! Brown was still in his place, somewhat, not yet bones but clearly dead on the carpet.
Us others couldn’t remain near one another after that; Spotted took the crumb and left, and the twin Reds I haven’t seen since. As for myself, I was thin and no longer white, but gray, and scouring for the dust to chew on was not my thing, I would have to welcome them
back
alone.
My
heart
swelled
when
the
weak
plank near the door gave its usual cry and the dark silhouettes cut through the door’s rectangle of light. The pump of it quickened when their faces came into the light
and
their
smiles
crashed
down.
There
was
a
scream from one of the three and I hadn’t seen any of them before. The man and the kid that glared down at me were not those I waited for, for weeks. The sun no longer hit my face as the man raced towards me and I started for the window sill. From the window onto the bed of the boy I knew, and from there I fell straight to the floor. There was a racket and a screech and the frame moved closer to the wall. It almost crushed me, as did a shoe someone flung from beneath, and then some giant feet when I left the dome of the bed to lose the tall people behind in the hallway. The guest room I ran into was dark and musty but quiet enough for the time. The fear that carried my legs seeped out like blood from a fatal wound and I dozed off to distant hushed words about infestations, filth, and rats. Days went by and I was still shivering in the dampness of that room. My fall from the mattress to the floor hurt my left leg, and the cold settled in me like rust. There was no food to be found, but this new unknown activity in the house kept me from leaving.
I thought about the five of us in the cage with its layer of wool that had started to fray, its toys, and regular mealtimes. . I was back to the early days when our stomachs’ rumble drove us mad and we pressed hard on the
bars
until
the
hinge
gave
up
and
we
jumped
undignified on the leftovers on the desk. It then was downstairs, where the food piled high like towers that I ventured alone, taking what I could reach and never seeing
Spotted
or
the
Reds.
I
kept
Brown’s
decrepit
body company and peered out of the window a lot, but the old father and son were gone, and this new trio scared me. They never came in, never peered through but talked loudly and I caught what I could from their loud speech. I was thinking about how the day was as hot as it would ever get, and as still too. The man’s sleep chant thundered and bounced off the walls of the corridor in irregular bouts that sounded like the snores of the man who was here before. They were hollow groans
in
an
otherwise
dead
house.
There
was
no
rhythm of a ball falling down and soaring back up, no soft rapid chatter. I got closer to the door, my unclipped nails grating wood. At
the
safe
edge,
the
line
between
the
damp,
dark
cover and the rough light on my dirty fur, the sound of the
grating
inflating before
nails
over I
anything,
the
crossed the
came
back
painful to
black
to
stabs
trudge,
and
white
me. in
Quickening
my
snouting figure
belly, in of
and
and
search another
just of rat
whizzed past. Spotted did not stop, for an instant, and I knew he was back to the crazed hungry days as well. I could guess the foam at his mouth.
He ran past into the bathroom, a fine thread of a body that used to be thick as rolled up twine. I made my way down the same path but entered the door on the other side, where the roaring voice boomed from its source. The man was there, on the mattress. A shift of his weight rattled the whole of the frame. A groan after another was always a surprise like a bag dropped inches from one’s head, or a caress that was too strong. He looked nothing like the man that lay there before; we could lie at the feet of that one. In his sleep, this man too looked merciful. I approached and thought of how caught off guard he was when he saw me that day. Who could blame a shoe thrown or a chase on a surprised man, I thought. This blond figure would get used, would want to, I thought. He would want to learn the mealtimes, the playtimes, and would bring my fur back to white, I thought. His hands with the gold hairs looked gentler than the copper furred paws of our man before, and they sure could pet us four. I inhaled when he did, I exhaled when he did, and my eyes moved up and down with his seesawing ribs. The air had started getting colder and I hadn’t budged. The man was still on the mattress, sometimes coming closer to consciousness before sinking his head deeper into his pillow. I had forgotten my stomach, my weak left leg, and the trance wouldn’t have broken so soon if a knee didn’t thud on the floor inches away from me. The boy
had
come,
from
his
own
room
maybe,
or
from
downstairs, or outside, unheard, and sat, looking down.
A black space like an abyss glared inside his mouth between two rows of smiling teeth, and his hand rested on the ground in an empty palm, offering nothing but company. My
body
had
moved
directly
towards
the
invitation.
“Maybe he would take me to water and some crumbs, that smiling child, or maybe the warmth of his hands would
be
enough,”
was
the
bodily
instinct
put
into
words. My legs were aboard and his thumb pressed my back as he drew me closer to his eyes. There was a back and forth motion of the thumb, a friction like a cover against the descending cold of the dark. There was that smile, still, as his other hand drew in closer and cupped me. And then there was the whiplash of wind. One hand had tugged at my tail twice before snatching me in a twirl in the air where images blurred. It came to a halt and I felt my face back on his palm, even though I couldn’t see it. I felt the thumbs come back to their place and the skin softly pressed again, delicate, then stronger, onto the empty belly sack and onto the chest bones. There could have been a crack. The blackness of my vision could have been because my eyes popped out and rolled away like old marbles. My jaws opened and closed and my voice came out to no use -men never got our words even if we learned some of theirs- and when my pleading failed, I had my sharpest teeth. He threw me on the floor where I couldn’t rest. I started limping away, regaining my senses; a sound and a spot at
a
time.
The
son
was
crying
to
shaking alarmed me of his getting up.
the
father
and
a
I was in the dark again when I got back all the forces that I could. Some broken part of me was clicking as I shivered
and
rolled
around
in
pain.
I
was
in
the
bathroom, I recognized. The evening light was just right to see the white tiles and warm brown mat. I got closer to it, hoping to muffle my nails on the tiles if they ever got close. The mat was outside of the shower, hidden behind
the
door.
I
let
go
of
the
strength
that
was
holding me just as I reached it and closed my eyes. A crack woke me. My lids opened in time to see a wooden square fly up out of the corner of the room that was hidden by the door. I saw the flapping of a tail. The room suddenly washed over me with the smell of blood and a smell of oiled bread I had missed in my earlier daze. I walked over to that corner. Spotted was there, I remembered him entering this room when I had chosen the other one. I had thought he had left, when he heard the boy cry, or felt the man pace around. I wondered if he was observing me all that time I was asleep. And there he was, metal through his neck, his head hanging by a hinge that showed his snapped veins and some white in that spilling blood reservoir. The noise of the bar springing into place was alerting but I could not move.
I
stood
over
Spotted
who
was
dying
by
the
second until his legs gave up their attempt at flight. His jaw succumbed to gravity and let the barely chewed bread soak with blood over oil. I groaned louder than the trap and unfeeling like the metal bar when I saw the food hit the floor.
I could not observe Spotted anymore, could not lend an ear to locate where the human feet moved, but jumped on that offering, dislodged out of the trap. Nibbled as more blood poured out of his open neck, onto my gray fur and his blood filled my mouth as I lapped it after I swallowed. My tongue ran over the ground, discovering the white of the tiles before they got covered back. The new dropped food only pronged monstrous hunger I was numbed to before. The hunger was kicking and would not
be
appeased
and
some
muscles
tensed
most
randomly. I contorted, my eyes on the pools I no longer lapped, my nose dripping blood that ricocheted in the mass. My eyes darted up in horror before realization. My ears were ringing before I noticed that the light bulbs had come on. The three occupants stood in front of me, and in my agony I saw the two Reds on the windowsill behind them, staring down. The boy was smiling again, his
tongue
hanging
out.
The
woman
had
her
finger
pointed while the man lifted the trap. And before I felt some final blow, or was left to bleed the poison out, I saw the Reds leap outside, and make their way down to the
world,
where
more
people
walked
and
turned, where they hoped for more of a chance.
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