away from life

7/30/2019 Away From Life

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Away from Life

WA E L K A N A A N


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PrefaceAll the content in this book were written and photographed by me through year

2012 and published on my online blog. A simple and easy read that reflects my

thoughts and some of my personal experience.

For your comments and contact:

Email: [email protected]

Twitter: @Waelboy

Facebook: Waooli

Wordpress: Althie

Flickr: Althie

Thank you and hope you enjoy reading!

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* * * * * *


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C H A P T E R 1

Confession1 of 3They asked him to confess

He grouped his fingers together, tightened his shoulders, and ducked his head.

What do they want him to confess about? He didn't know. Searching the roof cor-

ners for an answer, he opened his mouth, but words didn't come out. They

thought he was stalling and he thought they were pressuring him. "Lock him up" a

scream exploded in the cold room, with anger radiating more than a nuclear

bomb does. Two guards grabbed his elbows and buried him inside the four walls.

He tried so hard to wake up, but it wasn't a nightmare. It was a reality that tasted

bitterer than pain itself. The cruel iron wall screamed before blending in with thewalls. He roamed the room, chose the wall that faced the failing attempt of what

they called a window. There was still some daylight. If they finished with him

early, he can manage to go back home and pretend nothing had happened. No

one would know about this, only if he got out on time.

They called him back again. The screamed harder this time, as if it hated be-

ing apart from the walls. As if it wanted his company for ever. Grabbed by his el-

bows again, he ducked his head, and threw his tears down as he walked forward.

Maybe he will follow them back to his cell.

They sat him on that naked iron chair. IT was as hard and cold as the eyes of

the one who was waiting for him to confess. His lips refused to split up, his voice

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denied his authority and left him to suffer alone. They waited for his words to

come out, and waited for the confession. His eyes focused on the floor under his

feet, he folded his hands and sighed. They sighed back. The man with the hard

voice got up from his chair, and left the room. That was not a good sign. He didn't

order his men to take him back to his cell, then why was he being grabbed by hiselbows again and again???

There was the last drop of tears that he left on the floor. Why then were they

taking him? That passage was dark, too dark, but his eyes embraced the darkness,

only to make it worse. That passage ended with a door. An iron thick door, that

looked like it was made only to open once for every soul coming through. They

stopped. One of the guards moved forward, worked his hands thoroughly, andwith massive strength, the door finally opened. The darkness inside was darker

than all the black ideas that took shelter in his head. The guard that opened the

door retreated quickly, and the one next to him pushed him forward. As if the

guards feared that door as well. As if that door saved severe agony behind it, only

to serve it to its unique trembling guests.

He was pushed harder, and forward until they threw him inside. This door

screamed as well. Screamed louder and harder than any agonizing wound. The

door united with the walls, thundering a slam like no other. It was silence that con-

quered his ears inside, only to be disturbed by his rapid heartbeats and consecutive

attempts to breath. The passage was empty. The thick door was peaceful, stable

and strong enough to eliminate any voice attempting to break the silence...

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Getting out of bed and opening the door to leave his room was to him like

abandoning his fortified castle and facing the unknown, but he was embraced with

the warmth of his mother's eyes. That pained him so much. What if something

happened and his actions were exposed? How would he meet the disappointmentin those loving eyes? No one would ever imagine how hard he wanted to be a child

again, to throw his head in his mother's lap and cry his fear out.

A hard knock on the door moved his heart from its place. He wanted to

scream, but the choke of his throat prevented him from pleading his mother not to

answer that knock. And it was too late. They came in, running, as if he was a bird

that needed to be captured before it flew away. His strength betrayed him, his

body was carried by the harsh hands of those guards. Terror overwhelmed his

body, prevented him from hosting the pain of being thrown in that iron-fenced ve-

hicle. He stared through the iron bars, and the line that connected his sight to his

mother's started to stretch as the vehicle moved. Only her screams kept his com-

pany at first, then it was only the roaring of the vehicle that carried captivity on its

back wherever it went. His house kept on growing smaller and smaller until it

faded away. That made him alone and surrounded by guardians of fear.

Like an ignorant sheep being taken to slaughter, he was directed through the

dark alleys only to sit on a cold iron chair and facing a man wearing a frown that

carried all the cruelty of the world. This frown was the crown of two bright eyes

that couldn't be any darker. Those eyes demanded one thing. Only one thing. A

confession...

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C H A P T E R 3

Breaking the Silence3 of 3The thick door thundered violently, announcing the beginning of a cruel isolation.

His elbows were free again, but he was tied up with darkness. Standing in the mid-

dle of nowhere, he stretched his hands and moved them in every direction. His

eyes scattered into pieces. His hands found nothing to touch and his eyes met no

gaze but darkness. Thats it. He was locked up forever. This dark room was made

for those who became forgotten, and he is now abandoned. His ears longed for

nothing but a sound to hear, but there wasnt anything at all. He was abandoned;

his senses left him to suffer alone, and only his blood remained faithful to him as it

marched through his head like an army determined to crash every obstacle on the

way.

Her face flashed in head and he screamed. His eyes dug the surrounding dark-

ness for any ray of light, but it was too dark even for hope to exist. He screamed.

His knees went weak on him and he fell down.

Suddenly, he parted up from the floor and listened carefully. Soft humming car-

ried his name along and a far ray of light came to life. That was not the hope he

waited for. The ray of light grew bigger while it approached him. It carried a face,

a loving angry face. Oh, he missed her so much, he felt. But something was not

right. Those were not her eyes that sprinted with joy. Those were the eyes she wore

when he gifted her the way out of life. Those lips were mumbling, and he couldnt

understand them just like the mumbling he didnt understand when he helped her

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depart from this life. Those lips were moving fast, they pleaded him to understand.

His heart went silent when that face moved toward the door. The face was telling

him something and he couldnt understand. He ran after it, but it disappeared

without a trail to follow. He called her name, he shouted, and he yelled but she

was gone again. Let me out he begged. Grant me light he cried. I loved herhis tears splashed on the palm of his trembling hands. She wanted to go away, to

leave his odd voice betrayed his sudden silence. His tears went dry, his palms

wiped agony away from his face as he stood up and started to run. He must get

out, he must leave this place, and he must go beg her for forgiveness. He ran and

bumped into a wall that sent him back to the floor. He got up and ran again only

for his heart to touch the floor beneath. He lost his mind. He got up and ran

again. The sweetness of his blood tasted bitter when merged with agony. And he

ran again and again until his strength surrendered to the floor and forced him to

swallow his defeat. He couldnt explain it, but darkness was getting darker, the

room was spinning, his lips were mumbling, and his body was struggling. His ears

failed to warn him, the door was opened, and the guards dressed in white came to

him. They dressed him in white while denying him the sleeves and carried him

away out of the white room that hosted him on its floor.

His eyes panicked and refused the sudden disturbing light in the passage; only

to grow wide at the site of her crying eyes next to his mothers bleeding eyes. The

line that connected his confused gaze with their cries stretched until it broke when

she hugged his mother and cried with pain as they took him to depart alone.

* * * * *

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C H A P T E R 4

Night Feelings

It was late when he decided to call it a night. Thunder outside drove him mad. Tohim, it was like the end of the world. He decided to hide, to run away from that ir-

ritating feeling. Tucking himself in his bed was the most treasured thing he ever

did. He is safe now, shielded and armed with wool covers. The heart is sheltered

with peace. The clock is ticking, but sleep was away for this night. He had feelings

to spill, and so, he grabbed his papers and the pen resting on them and triggered

his mind for writing. Where did all the ideas go? They were buzzing all over his

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head. Did they hide? Did they leave? Or simply, they died? There weren't any urge

in him to dig them out, so he surrendered his papers to their prior refuge. What is

wrong with him tonight? He wondered. This is emptiness in him, and he didn't

have any ideas to write, so he decided to read.

As people scream out their true nature, his books did the same. They were his

loyal companions. What he didn't know, was it that his night was a very important

phase in his life. It is the night where his life will change forever.

He couldn't read, the pages were blank to his eyes. Despair claimed authority

of his heart, and his life rolled like a short movie in his head. "When will this stilllife end"? That's it! The end. The end is what only matters now. He bumped out

of his bed, opened the door of his balcony, climbed the iron fence surrounding it,

spread his hands in the air, and got ready to jump.

His legs mesmerized in their place, his heart thundered faster than raindrops

and louder than the noise around, but the raindrops were magical. They washed

despair out of his system. He felt confused, betrayed and peaceful. Confused by

joy, betrayed by emptiness, and peaceful by embracing hope that will lead him to a

life where ambitions floated all over. He must be a different person now, he must

make a difference. If it wasn't for the world, it would be for his little lame life...

* * * * *

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C H A P T E R 5

A MistakeHard floor under his back, extreme darkness surrounded him as he was not sure if

his eyes were open. He focused for a second, tried to remember why is he lying on

the floor, but nothing came to his troubled mind. Moved his hands around, waved

them up above, but nothing was there. He got up on his knees, tapping his hands

on the cold floor to make a way and suddenly, light flashed all over the place. He

tried to cover his eyes with his elbow, waited for a minute so his eyes could get used

to the light, and opened them to have a look around.

He was in a room of white and smooth walls. But something was missing. With

a frown conquering his crumbled face, he searched thoroughly for the door of this

room, but there wasn't any. There wasn't even a window. To his amazement, light

came from nowhere. It was just there filling the creepy room. Putting his thumb

and two other fingers, he squeezed his forehead trying to summon reasonable an-

swers. How did he get in here? Why? When? And even where is he? But these

were questions he couldn't answer. Black visions roamed his head.

Reaching the more static questions, panic was taking place. Who is he? Who

was he? What is he turning into? Only the echo of his questions thundered in his

head. He doesn't remember existing before. He doesn't have whatsoever knowl-

edge. An empty vessel worth nothing to fill it with. He must escape this nothing-

ness and get out to existence. But fear is taking over. What will be waiting for him

out there? What should he expect to find? Starting to exist? There might not be

any place for him to fit in. With the drums of these thoughts, a squared crack

started to paint itself on one of the walls.

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But, no! He will not escape. He must stay and maybe fade away. At this very

thought, the walls started to dissolve. The floor turned into millions of pixels and

his balance was running away from him. He is falling down. No, he is not falling,

he is fading away. Darkness is eating him, swallowing him into a deeper level.

Maybe it is too late to fight it now. His last thought turned into dust, scattered inchaos, and it was only darkness again.

* * * * *

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C H A P T E R 6

Unconditional Fellow

Curled in bed, bleeding tears, wrapped in darkness, and loneliness is his onlyfriend. Will it end soon? He starts to think! He does this to himself. It cures him

to get his feelings down. It cures him to draw tears out of his eyes. Maybe because

at daytime he believes that life is great. Maybe if he cried his nights, he would

laugh his days. He rolls back his day, his moments, in his head. How many shared

a smile with him? How many shared a laugh? But no one to share his meals with.

He eats alone, and chokes with every bite. Moon rays crawl inside, sweet and soft

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humming floats from outside. He must go out. As soft breeze moves forward,

touching his skin, cooling his cheeks, putting the remaining tears back to where

they belong. He walks down the road, puts his hand out, above the rising plants.

Calmness reaches his head and peace gets into his heart. So much to scream out,

yet no one to share the burden with, no one to give a hand in this heavy carriage.Suddenly, he notices the only friend that has always been with him. Never de-

manded a thing in return. Never complained and has always been there under the

sunlight, its there, under the moonlight, its there. Oh dear friend he says. A joy-

ful tear slips out, If you could only talk to me he says. And there he stays, his un-

conditional friend, his unconditional shadow. Silent, anticipating, and unrevealing.

* * * * *

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C H A P T E R 7

Midnight Struggle

It was after midnight when sleep suddenly fled out of his eyes. It was after thatwhen he traveled all over his bed to find the perfect spot where sleep resided. It

was then when he surrendered to the urge of going up and writing. He must write

the guilt and shame out of his heart. He squeezed his eyes one last time; maybe

sleep will get in and finally rest. But, all was in vain, and he must explain.

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Grabbing the papers and the pen resting on them was a hard decision to make.

But the remorse storming inside of him must be sent away. If he is going to write,

how should he address her? Dear Beloved? She was never a beloved. She didnt

take his breath away. She didnt make his heart beat faster. In fact, she almost

slowed it down, he thought.Dear friend? The plan was to fall in love. He wanted her to be the one that will

fit in that empty frame carried in his heart, he thought.

No, she was not the one. But yet, she turned his life upside down. The memo-

ries of all who came before her bumped in his head. To leave him, they were al-

ways right. And by them, he was always left. Why did this one stay? Was she that

desperate? Or, was he that good? Oh, yes, he remembers. He was that good. Good

in lies that is. Pretending to be perfect, claiming morals he never had before, andradiating the honor he always desired. He didnt break her heart for her sake. No,

he remembers now, it was for his sake. But breaking her was breaking his pride,

was crashing his ego, and was turning him from the usual victim into the perfect

slayer. And for that, he must not ignite the flame he put out. He must not break

her again.

He must go back to sleep, and find the lost peace that he had once before.

* * * * *

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C H A P T E R 8

I Missed You

I will put my hand on this pillow, lay my cheek on that hand, grab my knees closerto my chest, and try falling asleep.

Something is wrong with my bed. Your smell laid no more on my pillow, your

fingers swayed no more on my forehead, and your breath traveled no more on my

chest. And something is wrong with my room. My stairs drummed no more with

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your steps, my door trembled no more with your dancing fingers, and my walls

echoed no more with your laugh. And something is wrong with me.Your frownfaced no more my jokes, your fingers trembled no more in my hand, and your

gaze met no more my eyes.

So I close my eyes, squeeze them tosee you there, between them and their lids.I calm down, to find your smile hanging on my curtains. I turn around to confront

your shining eyes in the darkness. And there you are, sitting in the corner of my

heart, unrevealing yourself until its the right time.

And there my eyes relax, my body surrenders, sleep must be on the way. Myeyes are heavy, the voices from outside are gone. And then I open my eyes, my

body tightens, I hear your voice, I hear your calling. I call you back, I'm here, I'm

Here, where are you? There is my hand reaching out to you, there is your voice

fading away, there are your steps thundering away.

I open my eyes again, the pillow is wet, the bed is empty, the room is dark, and

I am all alone. I close my eyes again, I squeeze harder, I search for you again, but

you are gone. Did you knock and I didn't hear it? I jump out of my bed, open the

door, and its just that empty dark alley, with that broken lamp. I should have fixed

that lamp, maybe darkness made you change your mind, maybe you are down

there waiting for me. I run the stairs down, pop up in the street, and there it is

empty. My tears are falling, I have to get back. I will not stop crying, maybe my

tears will lead you to me if you forgot where my house is.

I will stay awake, I will watch the road, maybe you will come from that end,

and with you sunrise will come. I will stay awake and wait.

* * * * *

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C H A P T E R 9

Weird Love

Can I hold your hand?

-No, you can't.

-I will hug you!

-No, you won't.

-I'm going to kiss you!

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-No, you are not.

-Why?

-Because!

-What?

-Nothing.

-Tell me?

-Every time you hold my hand, my

skin freezes, my words stop at the

edge of my mouth, and my lips

crumble

-Oh!

-When you hug me, I feel secure be

tween your arms, and it scares me.

You make me want to run away, to

hide, and search for danger.

-Why?

-To run back to you and collapse

between your arms

-

-When you kiss me, you make me

shiver, you ignite the volcano that

relaxes in my stomach

-Really?

-Yeah

-Why didn't you say so before?

-Here I am, saying it now.

-Saying what?

-I love you!

-You do?

-Yeah, you love me with your

actions, I love you with my words.

-Come give me a hug!

-No!

-Why now?

-Because I'm leaving!

-Oh, why?

-Because I'm strong, and you make

me weak.

-We can be strong together.

-No, I'm doing fine on my own,

thank you!

-You are weird!

-Yeah, I know.

-Yeah.

-Ok, goodbye

-Bye...

* * * * * *


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C H A P T E R 10

Whispers

Whispers were her only friend. Whispers came to her every time she slept, beggingher to wake up. Whispers came to her every time she woke up, pushed her out of

bed. Whispers came to her every time she got up, driving her blindly to the win-

dow. Whispers were her only friend. Whispers only came to her, and only she

obeyed them. She never understood the reasons that dragged her to the window.

To stand still, contemplate the outside, focus on that window in the house facing

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That window was the center of her attention. The center of her attraction.

The shelter of her buzzing thoughts. And, the destiny of her traveling sight. Away

from that window, loneliness manipulated her, drove her back to stand still and

contemplate that window.It was the feeling of someone on the other side, stand-ing still, contemplating her window. It was the feeling of someone on the other

side that mesmerized her thoughts, her feelings, and her heart.

No No, no It was not the window. It was that dark slide that captured her

breaths. Hope lied there. Hope hid there. She was never lonely when invaded that

darkness with her eyes. It was hope that gave strength to her perishing heart. That

slightly open window was the reason of her survival. One day, the last piece of her

puzzled heart will take its place. Whoever was there, whoever hid behind that dark-

ness was the reason of her whispers, the reason of her circulated life, and the rea-

son of her moments going by.

She must not surrender. She must not let desperation grow in her heart. She

must not strangle her life with a rope, connecting her to that window, to that dark-ness, and maybe to that fading away hope. And she must not fade away.

* * * * *

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In winter, rivers will flood inside of me. Screams will dig their way out, and ex-

plode in harmony with winds blowing. In Spring, that seed will crawl out of my

muddy heart, and with it, peace will embrace my trembling nerves.

Anger has drunken me with bitterness; a sip at a time.Agony breached me, con-

quered my inside. A frown took shelter in my blurry eyes, and hatred filled my ears

with humming all around.

I will reap what I sow, and this seed will grow. As with it, peace will take over

while I cease to exist.

* * * * *

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C H A P T E R 12

Silent ScreamShe came, laid her elbows on that rusty iron fence, pinned her fingers together and

sight-fully dived into the deep ocean. It was her who inspired him. It was her still-

ness that irritated him. Why? Why did she come every sunset? He knows why he

came! For him, it was meditation, it was setting his eyes loose and traveling to

where the end of the world lies. Why did she come? He decided to ask her.

Clapping his hands once, pressing his palms on his knees, he rose up and

marched like a determined soldier toward that mystic fortress.

The moment he reached her, she turned her eyes to face his questioning face.

To his pathetic attempt, she imprisoned a silent scream in her eyes that were flood-

ing with tides of tears. Then, she lifted her pain with the movement of her perish-

ing smile and spoke with a trembling voice:

"To the deepest of this ocean, I set my secret for sail. To the eyes of this world,

I keep my pain unnoticed. To this ocean of secrets, I reveal my wounds and sharethe burden of hearts, the hearts that are broken with losses."

* * * * *

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C H A P T E R 13

And the Curtain FallsA tear struggled it's way out of his eye, but a painful scream remained within. Doc-

tors predicted the end of his days close, yet he felt the curtain going down sooner,

today!Trying to burry his urge to bleed his tears out, a stronger will came to life. He

must leave this ship with dignity, with his head up high, and with a moment that

can't be more peaceful.Before, he embraced peace coming within the marching breezes and took it for

granted. But they were never precious moments when his life was a fact, not a pos-

sibility. Things change, turn upside down, and never remain the same. With a

strong will, he packed what remained of his murdered smile and wasted his pre-cious trembling steps to have his last cup of joyful coffee. His ultimate pleasure

must be earned one more time for the last time!

Arriving to the paved entrance, he wished that standing still would push time

away from him, maybe the end won't come this soon. But that knot residing in his

throat made it hard to have such a hope. It was coming, he felt it. Few more steps

and he was inside the usual restaurant, his daily jar of thoughts and sorrows. He

looked left, at his usual table, but it seemed gloomy. He regrets now always post-poning that argument for the other table before the window. But, what's special

about it. He went to balcony, hoping that the bar with the sea view has an empty

seat. And it was, lucky him. Ordering a rich cup of coffee, he slid into the chair

and put his pack of cigarettes on the bar. The memory of his first cigarette flashed

in his mind like crystal. Oh, how close that past is now. He is still young, yet he is

leaving soon.

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The waiter came! Wearing that usual robotic smile, he laid the cup of coffee in

front of him. It has a rich foam on top! Has it always been like this, or it's his mind

playing passion games on him now? Oh, it's close, and getting closer every

second.With a trembling hand, he reached his pack of cigarettes, opened it roughly,

and with his sweaty fingers he tried hardly to pick a cigarette out of the pack. At

that moment, a lady came in, looked around until her eyes had their rest at his

side. The smile on her face was taken away with a frown. She called the waiter

pointing her fingers toward him. The waiter went to his chair, put a hand on his

shoulder and asked him about the reason he slept. It was a full minute before eve-

ryone realized the truth. The end has came, taking his life away and leaving thatrich cup of coffee untouched...

* * * * *

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C H A P T E R 14

What Do We KnowRight there, around the corner, wind raves a paper, flipping it in a circular move-

ment. Small rocks tumble along with the flow of that old dusty road. The roads

endless rounds carry the sight and twist it with every corner. Right there, around

the next corner, that tree stands still. Surviving every shimmering season, surviving

every dry in-existence of rain. Yet, it falls for the brown episode of time that ab-

sorbs the green out of every vain.

A dried leaf falls down silently, surrendering and laying down peacefully. Lifeends. Another leaf falls, neighboring its precedent. The mother tree can do noth-

ing to save its flurried children. Life cannot get any harder. How can a tear drop

out of inanimate? People can cry, shout, yell, and mourn. How can a tree mourn

its loss? How can a tree wail the loss of its falling children? But, what do we know?

A man knows nothing. Man cannot break into the silence of nature, nor compre-

hend the agony in stillness. And again, what do we know?

We cry, spill tears, and with those tears, we spill our rage and pain out. Whatwould a tree spill? Is it possible that these leaves are not the children? Is it possible

that these leaves are what a tree would shed in a moment of sorrow?

Trembling footsteps, barely heard, barely moving, approach from that othercorner. Hesitant and reluctant that young man disturbs the stillness of nature,

moves toward the tree. Touches the aging stem, goes around it, looking for some-

thing in particular. There is it, a trembled carving of a heart with two letters in-

side. At the sight of this heart, the young man drops to his knees, puts his hands on

the nearly erased heart, and cries. He cries so hard, and so loud that as if the wind

blows were in harmony with his screams. Could it be that this tree has witnessed a

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broken love tragedy? Or could it be that it has witnessed the arrogance of a child

who grew up in age and pretended to grow up in value so he never came back for

the shade of this old tree? Or could it be that it missed the sweat of a wounded

runaway who craved for shelter under her branches? Could this silence be resem-

bling the loss of any of them? What do we know! What do we know! * * * * *

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Thats it...


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My Thanks...

My thanks go to all my friends who encouraged and pushed me forward to write increasingly.

My thanks go to all my social networks friends who were a true support to me.

My thanks go to all the incidents I encountered and shaped the person I am now.

My thanks go to Life that gave me all the experience I needed to write the content of this book.

* * * * *I thank God for all the success & failure, all the ups & downs, and for giving me the grace of a stable

mind.

* * * * *

away from life

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