suicide on noah's ark

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
a little story about death

Submitted: October 10, 2016

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Submitted: October 10, 2016



Suicide on Noah's Ark

Swara Najmadden Jabar



I was senselessly sitting and surfing through the pages of Facebook, it was one of those moments when a person wants to find a joke and laugh about it. My wife walked in with a cup of tea and gave a comment about how Facebook is becoming my food and water. I understood she wanted me to sit down with her and have some small talks, so I decided to put my computer away and spend some time with her when suddenly I received a message. Finally, God sent someone to talk with, and truly he was a Godsend.

It was a message from Arsh Sadradin! Oh God! I starred at my wife, who was expecting me to reply to her previous comment, but I told her that I just received a message from a dead friend of mine! She thought I was ignoring her words so she walked out of the room without saying a word.

Arsh has been dead for months now, and his flesh has long being gone, how did he get a computer inside his tomb! It was a casual message in which he was greeting me and asking about my wellbeing. I guessed that it was either a family member or a friend of him that had access to his Facebook account and sent that message to me, so I decided not to answer. I was sure it was a prank so I contacted his brother and asked about Arsh's Facebook account to which he replied that they weren't successful in accessing it. Later on, I started contacting our mutual friends, and the first thing I did was telling them that they are busted and I know it was them playing a prank on me , to which everyone replied with surprise and ignorance of my words.

Arsh passed a few months ago in a car accident on Dukan's main road. It was a devastating loss for everyone that knew him. He was a pure-hearted youth with no harm to anyone, but as any other dead person, he was soon forgotten.

With my cup of tea, I went into the dining room and pulled the chair in front of my wife, and I told her that I indeed received a message from Arsh, do you remember him? To which she replied that I should go spend time with the dead since the living seem worthless to me.

This would have ended in an argument and I know my wife. Zhina and I know if I let her calm down she would forget about the whole thing. I went back into the computer room where I received a Facebook message from Zhina stated “greetings from the kitchen, since you only have time here" and I replied, “greetings from the road of purgatory, visit me soon".

I was gradually reconciling with my wife, and answering the strange message from Arsh’s profile. I asked him to identify himself to which he replied that it was truly him.

During his life, we were making jokes about his job, but he was a decent photographer. He focused mainly on taking photos of wasps, which he was gone insane about because he was getting too close to the wasps to the point they would sting him. Once, he was holding the camera with one hand and with his other hand held a stick with which he was poking a wasp hive; as result, he got stung on his lips, making them swollen like bread, and so we gave him the nickname, Arsh the bread.

We mentioned several stories which were indicating it was truly him, but I was still doubtful because other mutual friends also know about these stories and anyone of them could have hacked into his account and impersonated him.

In the midst of our talks I said “do you remember our roof?" to which he replied, " promise me you will not tell people about it". Now there was no doubt it was truly him because, except the two of us, nobody knows about that secret.

I was in shock I forgot about Zhina's message, I was shaking and I went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and drank some cold water. Zhina was there, laughing at me, and she asked why I was pale. I told her it was really Arsh, and she said go back to your chatting and I will talk with some boys.

I went to the toilet and when I returned, I had received yet another message from Arsh, which was a long message saying:

 "My dear brother the day I was returning from Dukan, suddenly, when I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital, and doctor and nurses with white coats were all around me. Observing their actions, it was indicative that my condition was critical. My father was standing at the door; my brothers and sisters were all anxious and couldn't hold keep their calmness. The doctors and nurses were all speaking in broken English and using medical terms. They didn’t want me to understand what was going on; however, with all their efforts to exclude me from talks, I still managed to realize that my condition was critical.

My mother was holding her hands and was getting in the doctor's way. I saw someone leaving the room and my father followed him; I believe it was my Doctor. One of the nurses was checking the wires on my chest as the diagrams and lines were diminishing on the screen while another was looking at my X-ray results in front of the light.

The white coats left my surrounding, and my family rushed in and surrounded me with my father leading them. My mother was begging my father saying “Sadradin what is going on?". I could see a fake smile on my father's face when he said" He is fine, the Doctors said he only got some broken bones, he will be fine". He held my shoulder tightly, and I can't remember the rest.

"Arsh what are you talking about? With these shoulders of mine, I carried your dead body and I was at your funeral, and I condoled with your father for his loss. Where are you right now?" I typed.

"I don't know" Arsh typed.

"Then how are you texting me" I typed.

"I sent you a message to talk about death with you, I sent the same message to many of our friends most of them thought it was a prank and they were insulting me, I want to tell you about death." Arsh typed.

"You want to talk about your death?" I typed, asking.

"No, I want to talk about your death, how do you like to die?" Arsh typed, asking.

"I don't want to die." I typed.

"But you have to die at some point, you are not Jesus Christ." Arsh typed.

"That is right, but I don't want to think about it. When death comes, my opinion won’t be asked." I typed.

"But there are so many beautiful ways to die; here I have many friends, each with their own story of how they died. I know a guy by the name of Mahdi Diwania; he was a writer for funeral banners. He wrote three thousand one-hundred and seven funeral banners. One day before his death, he wrote his last funeral banner and left it hanging, the last banner he wrote was his own funeral banner, and he even wrote the name of the mosque at which his funeral would be held. But he is not sure whether his will has been executed or not, or whether his people have opened his shop since his death. If you could, please check his shop. It is at Mawlawy Street, and he was known as Mahdi Diwani around there. See if his funeral was held according to his will." Arsh said.

"Sure, I will check it, but do you have internet all the time so that I can send a message?" I Asked

“I’m not sure, but send it anyways so that I can see it when I'm online." Arsh said.

"How about your other friends, how were their deaths?" I typed, asking.

“Most of the deaths are the same, car crashes, illness, war, age, drowning, burning. I know someone who was a fire fighter; he said that one day, their firefighting station caught on fire, and they were all inside the building and some gasoline cans were in the yards which they kept in case of gasoline crisis. They were all burnt into ashes and no one was there to save them." Arsh typed.

"I want to die from Happiness." I typed.

"I haven't seen anyone dying from Happiness, but I heard of someone that died from too much laughing." Arsh typed.

"Dear Arsh, let's leave the subject of death. Right now, you know the answer to a question all humanity has. Tell me about the place you are in right now, that answer may save all of humanity." I typed.

"If I tell you the answer, they will try a new death on you, and also no one would believe you. To save yourself, you have to pretend to be insane to prevent or avoid your death." Arsh typed.

That was his last message, ever since that moment I tried contacting him and send him greetings but it was of no use and I finally gave up, but before sending my good night text, I typed" Dear Arsh, I wish my death would have been in a different age, I don't want a normal death. If I were Cain I would have killed my father and mother with Abel, or I wanted to be in the place of Canaan, the son of Noah, so when God floods the world I would board the Ark and kill my family and finally take my life, thus, the Ark would roam around in the vast sea".

© Copyright 2018 Swara Najmalddin. All rights reserved.

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