SHORT STORY (DAY AFTER DAY)

Day after day
Whoever is reading these papers now please, do not say that I am crazy. What I handled and put up with was not easy at all. Twenty years were enough, and enough is enough. Right now I will commit suicide, but after you all know what makes me do this. Read and learn from my mistakes. Read and know that all sons and daughters are devils, and I mean literally devils.

I once had a baby called Nick. I am quite sure now that I was on the right track to call him this damned name. My whole life was not easy at all; poverty was after me in insistence which is not related to any natural aspect. Poverty itself is not a curse unless it is associated with bad luck. Oh my God! Bad luck was following me like a hungry homeless man follows delicious junk food with his eyes and nose. It was foolishness not to relate this with the new family member, but I took all those issues with open arms, and welcomed all these omens in my house.

When Nick was at eight years old, his mother was trying to prevent him from playing with matches. It is ordinary to happen between every mother and son, and it is a common scene to find in every house in any country. The thing which was far from ordinariness that a child sets fire next to her body while she was sleeping. Yes, it happened and I was lying next to her. I woke up on the sound of burning and screaming and a tremendous pain in my right arm. My right arm as well was on fire. I was in a state of extreme confusion, but my animal instinct for surviving acted involuntary. Nick was just standing with the match box in his hands and starring without any facial expressions at us. I luckily helped myself but I could not help my poor helpless wife. Her blessed body then was nearly without a precise figure, especially under this weak light of night.

At the age of eleven till now he had become the laziest child in the world. He was just passing every year, like sloth bear he was, not working for achieving anything. I used to wake him up with screams and bomb explosion, but he was used to walking away of my face without even saying the morning greeting. It was like he does not care whether today is Armageddon or not. Every single day I used to fight with him to oblige him to go to school, and after school to do his homework, and after homework to study, then after studying to go to bed early. Did I succeed? Hell no! My suffering continued day after day and I was fighting my psychological circumstances to survive.

This strange and killing life continued till he joined college, and he stopped at this point. He was neither studying nor trying to socialize with people. He got fired and I became his only support in life. At least he should have respected this, but simply he did not. Why? Because he does not want to. He is living in his own world which I imagine nothing less than Dante's hell, or Riddick's underverse. Strangely, without metallic music or an upside down cross. This too was driving me mad. He should determine what he is.

That is all, I know you are calling me psycho now, but you have never been in my shoes. I hope you would never feel what I have felt throughout those twenty long years, raising that dirty pig. I am on the roof now, standing at the edge. Yes, I can see him in the street, strolling, not even caring about the crowd who are watching me. Now, I am going to a ride, hope not to see you in hell, but I am sure I will see my Old Nick after I would let him suffer his whole life. He would not suffer from sadness on his father, but from finding no way to get his own food. And in hell, I will be pleasing my burning eyes watching him melting down and turning to ashes.
written by MUSTAFA ADEL