Abdessamad Hilmi

Abdessamad Hilmi

She was rushing to the church as if she was trying to catch the last service before the apocalypse. Her velvet white dress was beaming against the sallow old pillars of the building. As she steps into the chapel, she feels a warm breeze coming from behind her neck and going through her ginger curly hair, making it smother around her pale freckled face as if it was floating in slow motion. She gets slightly overwhelmed for a second but a look of determination takes hold of her face then and, nonchalantly, she proceeds through the corridor of the chapel towards the altar. When she came to the sacred stand, she checked the place left and right with her tired eyes and whirled her head to the door in the back, gazing, as if she was expecting someone or something to come in, even though it was late at midnight on a very cold and foggy evening and no one would have dared to leave their warm house, except for her since she allegedly has her reasons. Turning back to the altar, she sets her sight on the table to find it empty, which explains the sudden look of disappointment on her figure. Very briefly afterwards, she raises her head up and, in a moment of joy and fury, she glimpses a statue hanging from the immense caved ceiling ….

Bewildered and confused, she vainly tries to recognize the external nature of it. It was in the shape of a human and an animal, it was both male and female, made of every element of nature, and it was set on fire and left to burn in flames tilting from side to side as if someone was waving it as a voodoo doll, so that it can be shown and seen to everyone and everything. Again and as usual, she tends to ignore it and disregard its dazzling blaze as if it was never there, like how she ignored the warm breeze behind her neck when she first entered the chapel. She bows down on her knees facing the altar, bends down her head forward and puts her hands together. With steady arms and trembling lips, she starts mumbling random mantras and whispering numinous hymns. She tries to close her eyes in order to fulfill the extreme state of devoted reverence but she fails, because all that is going through her mind at the moment is the feeling of constant terror and promptly oblivion. Meanwhile and during her secret little ceremony, she hears an ambient sound of footsteps coming from behind her in a firm poise, but it was getting faster as she was whirling her head around in an attempt to see who was coming.

Now that she can see it clearly, it was a tall and largely built young man with pallid skin and wavy dark hair. He had bright blue small eyes on an oval shiny face. He was wearing an ankle-length black coat that was similar to a clerical Cassock. The young man was standing above her, overshadowing her tiny miniscule body, while she's still on her knees. Checking

him out from head to toe, her praying grip is dissolved now, her lips are finally still, and her eyes are watery gleaming. He pulled out a G18 out of his worn out pocket, pointed it to her forehead, and blew her brain out. While her body was falling dead to the ground she contemplated love, death, sex and violence.