Translated from the Arabic by Essam M. Al-Jassim
He collapsed with a cry, the scattered fragments of his words—his papers—slipping through his fingers and drifting away with the breeze. He struggled to piece together a page from what he had rent in a fit of rage.
His tears mingled with the ink, blurring the letters that had once been imbued with the essence of his soul. A shadow fell upon his tear-filled eyes, as he recalled the curt dismissal with which the famous publisher had tossed his manuscript onto the stately oak desk. The scene played out as if before his eyes—the publisher’s crooked smile as he praised the novel’s quality, plot, style, characters, and tightly woven ending.
The recurring jumbled visions of happiness flooded his mind, accompanied by the compliments he had naively assumed were approval for publication. His tears flowed again as the words echoed in his ears. “Unfortunately, I cannot publish it. There is no place in the market for serious works. Yours is better than it should be.”
He found himself transported back to that moment, reliving it with all his being. His eyes widening and jaw dropping in disbelief as he watched the publisher lean back in his plush chair, gesturing dismissively for him to leave. The harsh words had ripped him apart, leaving wounds that wouldn’t heal. He recalled his fury as he snatched up the manuscript and stormed out, unleashing his rage on anyone he encountered, leaving a path of destruction behind him like a hurricane.
His heart pounded faster as he entered his library, lunging at the books he had been collecting since childhood. He tore at everything within reach, scattering shreds of paper everywhere.
He seized the file containing the creation of his imagination—repeatedly rejected for no apparent reason—and ripped out the pages mercilessly, tossing them out the window and letting the wind whisk them away. He collapsed on the ground as the scraps whirled around him, blown by the breeze from the window.
His heartbeat slowed, and a cold grip tightened around his neck, nearly snuffing out his soul. The man curled up in the fetal position, gathering what his hands could reach of his creative work, along with the creations of past geniuses. Pulling everything to his chest, he wept.
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About the Author
Mohammed Khalaf is an Egyptian novelist, short story writer, and playwright. Mr. Khalaf’s short stories and novels have received critical acclaim. His collection of short stories, “The Dead Don’t Get Excited,” won the Regional Publishing Award. He has a talent for weaving main events through various themes, styles, and narratives that have captivated readers and critics alike.
About the Translator
Essam M. Al-Jassim is a Saudi writer and translator based in Jubail, Saudi Arabia. His writings and translations have been featured nationally and internationally in various Arabic and English-language literary journals. He is the translator and editor of the recently published anthology of flash fiction Furtive Glimpses: Flash Fiction from The Arab World. https://www.facebook.com/essam0022/
