Very Short Fiction by Fadi Azzam – ARABLIT & ARABLIT QUARTERLY

Mercy Killing

By Fadi Azzam

Translated by Ghada Alatrash

She tied his hands and feet, fixed his head between two wooden supports, sealed his mouth with tape, and pinched his nose with a clothespin.

With exquisite tenderness, she gently stroked his hair, her gaze locked on him.

Two tears forged a slow path down her cheeks, one falling into his open eye.

His eye swallowed the tear, which stung with salt and was heavy with bitterness. He blinked several times before an eerie calmness washed over him. Moments passed, and his resistance faded. The panic and swelling ebbed away from his asphyxiated face, and, to her surprise, he appeared serene, almost childlike in his innocence. He gazed deep into her eyes with a look that held the greatest possible love, brokenness, regret—or perhaps all these emotions entwined in that single, unexpected look. It was the look she had waited for so long, never believing she would live to see it.

It was a love beyond words, beyond gestures, beyond justifications or breath—a silent apology, as though it was the one thing he was determined to offer before his final exhale. One look from the depths—worth more than all the feeble apologies and hollow excuses he had once spun.

At last, she could turn the page.

She unclipped the clothespin from his nose and freed one of his hands. Grabbing her small bag by the door, she left, carrying with her that single look, a loyal sentinel that accompanied her until the day came when he would indeed draw his final breath.

قتل رحيم  

قيدت يديه وقدميه، ثبتت رأسه بين مسندين خشبيين، أغلقت فمه بشريط لاصق، ووضعت ملقط الغسيل على أنفه. أخذت تمسح على شعره برقة متناهية وهي تحدق به.

سالت من عينيها دمعتان بطيئتان، سقطت إحداهما في عينه المفتوحة.

ابتلعت عينه دمعتها الشديدة الملوحة، الممتزجة مع أصناف عالية من المرارة. رمش عدة مرات، وهدأ بشكل مريب. مرت لحظات لم يعد يقاوم، اختفى الذعر والانتفاخ عن وجهه المخنوق، وعلى عكس المتوقع، بدا كأنه صفا بشكل لافت. عاد طفولياً، سخياً بالبراءة. نظر في عينها بعمق، نظر بأقصى ما يمكن من الحب، الانكسار، الندم، أو كلها مجتمعة معاً في تلك النظرة غير المتوقعة التي انتظرتها طويلاً، ولم تظن يوماً أنها ستحصل عليها.

حب بلا لغة، بلا إشارات، بلا تبرير، بلا نفس؛ اعتذار من الأعماق، وكأنه الفعل الوحيد الذي حرص على القيام به قبل خروج آخر نفس.

نظرة واحدة من الأعماق تساوي كل الاعتذارات السخيفة والأعذار التافهة التي كان يختلقها ويناور بها.

صار بوسعها أن تبدأ صفحة جديدة. سحبت الملقط عن أنفه، وحررت له يداً واحدة. أخذت حقيبتها الصغيرة المجهزة عند الباب، وخرجت بصحبة نظرة واحدة سترافقها كحارس أمين حتى آخر نفس في حياته.

Also read:

‘Today, We Need to Write at Least a Thousand Syrian Novels,’ a conversation with Ghada Alatrash and Fadi Azzam

An Excerpt of Fadi Azzam’s ‘Huddud’s House’

New Short Fiction: ‘The Pussy’

Poetry by Azzam, in Alatrash’s translation:

Azzam’s ‘This Is Damascus, You Sons of Bitches’

Azzam’s ‘If You Are Syrian These Days …’

More Syrian short works, translated by Alatrash:

Ibrahim Samui’l’s “The Stench of Heavy Footsteps”

Ghassan Al-Jibai’s “Nails”

Fadi Azzam is a Syrian novelist and writer, and is the author of Sarmada (2011), longlisted for the 2012 International Prize for Arabic Fiction, as well as Huddud’s House (2017), longlisted for the 2018 International Prize for Arabic Fiction.  He was the Culture and Arts Correspondent for Al-Quds Al-Arabi newspaper. His opinion columns have appeared in the NY Times and a number of newspapers across the Middle East and Arab Gulf.  His piece, “If you are Syrian these days” was recently published in Gutter magazine.

Ghada Alatrash, PhD, is an Assistant Professor in the School of Critical and Creative Studies at Alberta University of the Arts in Calgary, Canada. She holds her PhD in Educational Research: Languages and Diversity from the Werklund School of Education, the University of Calgary, and a Master’s Degree is in English Literature from the University of Oklahoma.  Her current research speaks to Syrian art and creative expression as resistance to oppression and dictatorship.