Ch.1
Day one, Oblivion.
They’re holding me down. All I can see are the fading sparks of hope fading
across the dim room. The skeikh is desperately trying to hold me down to the
floor. I’m going insane. He reads verses of the Koran upon my head. I lose it
even more. The verses are echoing from his tongue like soothing shivers. It’s
filling the room with this aura of hope, and this false sense of redemption.
I start to shout and
shout. Nothing makes sense. My parents are worried sick. They think the devil
has gotten the worst of me. They think Diabolis has gotten his prize. They
think Lucifer is laughing up from hell. I’m caught in the middle. I’m trying to
shake myself free. Their hands are gripped tight, hurting my arms. They think
I’ve lost it. I think I have.
All I want is to be
understood. They’re reading the verse that talks about how Harut and Marut were
angels sent down to earth, teaching people the sorcery of black magic. It’s in
the Koran. They think I’m possessed. The sheikh begins to raise his voice. They
think that I’ve been taken down the seven dungeons of hell, and that I’m the
devil incarnate.
My eyes are burning
red. They’re burning red with innocence. I don’t understand what is going on.
My mom whispers to me that the devil is taking control, do not listen to him.
She tells me that he is the one causing the blasphemous thoughts. I get more
anxious. I don’t understand how far down the well I’ve gone. I don’t understand
what this world has gotten me to.
The verses of the
Koran are whispering in my ears, making me more agitated. My face turns red.
I’m lost in complete darkness. I’m lost in cables that seem to hold me from all
angles. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The sheikh begins to bring water to
splash over my face. I’m lost in this blighted dream, this fading reality.
My legs begin to
shake. My hands begin to tremble. My life is going to chaos. The lights from
outside the room were sparkling dim lighted, like a delusory sense of hope that
someone can save me from this. I was caught on the floor, hitting bottom,
second by second. My mom begins to cry, she is mourning my sanity. I’m caught
in this web of infinite sorrow.
The humming of the
Koranic verses ring in my ears, I don’t know why. They give me hope. Maybe it
is hope that is destroying me. Maybe it is hope that is a delusion. I don’t
want it. I’m shouting, trying to ignore it. I don’t want to cling on to a rope
that I slip off of every other day. My dad is walking around the dim lighted
room, anxious. I try to resist what is imposed, but I am caught in a whirlpool
of cycles that never seem to have an end. I’m caught in this never-ending
circle of keeping inside what has to be shared.
God will save you,
god will save you, is what the sheikh is telling me. I am praying, while near
dead on the floor. I am praying, and begging for a sign. I am pleading, hoping
for redemption. I look at the ceiling of the room, as though it were the sky,
and ask for deliverance. I beg. I plead. I pray. I cry. I wait. I wait. I ask for
a respite from this. I ask for a chance at life. I wait. I wait.
I have hope, it was
filling me to the lungs. It felt like an outside poison. It felt like an
engrained disease. It has me chasing mirages that go on until the end of time.
I figure out that my prayers don’t fall on non-answering ears, but on
nonexistent ones.
Ch.2
Day two. I’m still
caught in the room of the sheikh. I’ve lost my mind. They’ve got the Koran on
the cassette player. They think it’s going to calm me down. I’m struggling on
the floor. I’ve lost my sanity. The humming of the Koranic verses whisper so
calmly in my ear. They give this sense of relaxation. But this relaxation, is
too hard to understand. It is one filled with hope. And hope is something that
is driving me insane. I’m too caught up in a fantasy.
I’m listening to the
sheikh talking outside, telling people to stay away from this room. I’m in a
state of comatose madness. The blood is filling my veins. The madness is
spiking in my mind. The chaos is flowing in my heart. I’m looking at the
ceiling, as though it were the sky, and ask myself what God has done to me. I
ask him where I have gone wrong to deserve this. I was always a faithful
servant. I always prayed. What has gotten me to this place? What sin have I committed
to deserve this treachery?
I’m moping on the
floor, my head heavier than my legs. I’m caught between reality and the distant
dream of a false utopia. I’m caught between what seems to be hope, and ghost at
the end. My heart is dying. My soul is being flushed out. I was always a good
servant. I was always keen to have faith. What have I done God?
I reach for the
cassette player, trying to shut it off. I don’t want it. It’s hurtful. I don’t
know why. I don’t want hope anymore. I want to be free of hope. It is hope that
has driven me insane. I don’t want the hope that exists in the lines between
the verses of the Koran. I want reality. I want to see what’s real for what it
really is. I turn it off.
I lay on the floor,
again looking at the ceiling, as though it were the sky. I wonder what on Earth
is going on. I wonder if I’m possessed, or that some evil demon is taking
control of me. But something is telling me otherwise. I feel it, so deep in my
veins, so far in my consciousness. I know it’s not a demon, yet everyone around
me is telling me that. I know it can’t be. I feel it. I sense it. I want the
truth.
Ch.3
Day three. I sit
down, and I have a talk with the sheikh. “God is testing you, Altair.” He’s
testing you to see if you can be patient with your demons.” He says. I’m
agitated. I get frustrated. I feel something boiling inside me. I don’t know
what it is. “What do you mean, demons? Why me? Why demons? What if it is
something else?” The sheikh puts his hand on his forehead, sighing. “Altair,
what do you mean something else? It can’t be anything else.” I get up. I walk
back and forth throughout the room. I’m lost in a haze of what people are
telling me. I’m lost in a blight of what people are imposing upon me. They make
you believe where you don’t want to believe. They make you have faith in
something you inherently don’t want to have faith in. They change who you are.
Day by day, I’m
having more and more trouble dealing with the fact that it could be a demon. I
just can’t buy into it anymore. If hope doesn’t exist, then God doesn’t exist.
And if God can’t exist, then how can demons exist? I persist in my pursuit for
the truth. I want freedom. I want deliverance. I want a chance at life. I want
the truth.
Day by day, I’m
drowning further into this theocracy, this web of theology. I’m diving deeper
into the man made laws of religion, and what it has to say upon the masses. Day
by day, I am becoming someone I’m not. It’s telling me that I am possessed. I
simply can’t believe in that fact. Something inside is driving me to find the
truth. I go on, in the hopes I could find an answer to all of this.
Ch.4
Day four, I’m lying
face down in the room. I begin to reminisce upon how all of my life has gone to
dust. I begin to think about how all of my life has gone to ruins. I think
deeply about my state, and about what’s around me.
I begin to wonder
what these voices are in my head. I begin to wonder what they are beckoning. I
begin to wonder what they are calling for. It’s too hazy. It’s too
incomprehensible. I can’t understand it.
It’s morning, and
the sheikh comes barging into the room. He gets his belongings, and then leaves
quickly. I hear screaming outside the room. I hear wild tongues chanting in the
name of God. I get curious. I slowly open the door of the sheikh’s room, and
step by step go outside. I wonder where the sheikh left. I look to the right,
and I see a bunch of people gathered around the mosque of the neighborhood. I
move closer, I want to know what’s going on.
I hear repentance
and heartbreaking remembrance slogans coming from the people gathered over
there. I move closer, and see it. The mosque has been invaded. On its walls are
messages written in blood. It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. My heart
skipped a beat. My eyes opened wide. On a mosque? I asked myself. Who would do
such a thing?
I read the messages.
‘The God delusion – Richard Dawkins” I read from one of the signs. “Religion is
mind control – George Carlin.” “Open your eyes and see, wake up from this
theology.” “You’re far too caught down, in this religion of mind, further and
further delusion, you shall find.”
It became a crime
scene. The cops arrive and want to know what’s going on. It’s probably the
first time it ever happened. Everyone was shocked. Everyone was afraid. Has the
antichrist come? Has doom and legion come upon the people? Has the end of the
world arrived? Is the end at hand? Are we all doomed? I could feel those
question emanating from the people around me. I am equally scared. I am
terrified. I am frightened.
Ch.5
Day five, I’m
sitting in the room, shaking back and forth. I’m supposed to get better, or at
least that’s what they keep telling me. I’m possessed. I’ve got the blood of
the devil running through my veins. I’ve got the wrath of Iblis swarming in my
blood. My face reddens, and my teeth begin to grind. I leave the room for a
cigarette.
I feel the decay of
the breathing of the cigarette as a relief, as if death is approaching inch by
inch. I feel the death of the cigarette saluting me, second by second. I
embrace the death associated with the cigarette. I thrive on it. I die by it.
I walk back and
forth in front of the room. My parents won’t let me leave the room to go back
home. They think I will lose my mind if the Koran is not constantly read upon
me. They think that I will go insane if the words of God are not delivered into
my ears.
I sneak to the
nearby mosque, to see the messages again. Has the antichrist come to save us
from the shackling boundaries of religion? Has the antichrist come to deliver
us from an age of dogmatic religion? Has he come to bring back the days of
chaos and destruction? I don’t know. All I know, is that something is going on.
I see the messages.
“Why did Abu Talib not embrace Islam, even to his last breath?” When I saw that
message, all wrapped up in blood writing, my eyes opened wide with a
realization. Why didn’t Abu Talib embrace Islam? That question. He was the
uncle of the prophet, and knew him since he was a child. Why didn’t he embrace
Islam? Why? Why?
Such an interesting
question it is. Was it because Abu Talib knew the prophet since he was a child,
and knew him for who he really was? Was it because he saw that the prophet was
delusional, and that his message all came from a fervent imagination? Was it
because he knew that the prophet had a schizophrenic personality, and that one
side of him thirsted for blood, while the other fought in God’s name? All of
these questions came up, and I begin to wonder, the magnitude of the power of
this question.
Was it because the
prophet was a madman who hid his true colors? Was it because the prophet was a
gifted and talented poet, having the ability to brainwash millions of people
into the delusion of God? Can his message still survive today, in a society
filled with science? Can his message still survive today, when the delusion of
hope seems not to hold on very strongly?
These questions
drove me insane. I begin to bang my head on the wall outside the room. How far
has the world sunk into this theocracy? How far has the generations taken us
through this theology? How far have we dove into the man made laws of religion?
How far?
Blood begins to drip
down my forehead. Bleed it all out, I say. Is this religion that constitutes
over a billion people simply a cult in which all adapts to the behaviours of
the prophet? Is it all a cult that survived and flourished in the days of the
prophet, but can no longer survive nowadays?
I look at the skies,
and I see it. I see the destruction of the religion coming. Maybe not now,
maybe not soon. But it shall arrive. I see it so clearly. It cannot survive.
The more we learn, the more it fades. The more we encounter, the more it fades
from our minds. The more knowledge we obtain, the more it goes into the
background.
Ch.6
Day six, I'm outside the sheikh's room. I'm walking throughout the streets wandering. The nearby mosque is on fire. It's burning to ashes. I continue walking, and I see nearby firemen trying to put out the fire. I see the fire, and I'm amazed.
Here I see it, the mosque on fire. For some reason, I feel this burning in my heart. As if it is being put to life. Anarchy. Destruction. I'm thriving on it. The world can no longer survive. The antichrist has come to put our blind eyes to rest. The antichrist has come to put our dormant minds to eternal sleep. The time has come.
What will we do, when there's nothing left to cling to? What will we do, when our broken idols, come crashing down? What will we do, when there's nothing left to take refuge in. The end is coming. For some reason, my heart is once again dancing with the spirit of life. It is flowing around with the anarchy in the air, and the destruction that is coming forth. I am pleased. My eyes redden, as doom starts to approach. My soul blossoms, as the end comes to being.
Ch.7
