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Date: Thu, 9 Nov 2000 08:31:23 -0800 (PST)

 

 

 

I Will Slay the Monster Named Rumor

By Hasan Hujairi

 

 

I never could understand why it was that Rumor could tell　us all the best stories. Perhaps the fact that we lived in　an isolated village had something to do with it. Maybe it　was because nothing beyond mediocre ever happened here,　well, almost. I don’t know. As far as I knew, maybe the　brown color of everyone’s eyes made colors of Rumor so　attractive. It told us so many stories, that in the end, no　one even remembered what was true and what was not. The　only thing I do know is that Rumor is no longer welcome,　and the only truth I can remember is that it once ruined a　boy’s life. A boy we all once knew. I remember how the　murmuring clamor would bud out of the mouths of old women　and children into the ears of others, and they spread the　word they heard to others.  I remember it well.

 

When I was younger, and did not have the sight I have　today, something strange happened. There is a time in all　of our childhoods in which we would try uncommon things.　Flapping our arms in hope of riding the silent winds or　speaking in another dialect to conjure evil spirits were　some of the rituals the children of our village would　exercise every once in a while. I was with Ahmed, my　partner in childhood adventures and best friend. Ahmed,　another victim of Rumor, was the one that showed me that　these fatal childish dreams could be touched. Funny how we　used to get frustrated by what other people say about us　sometimes. Ahmed was the little boy that had his share of　being ridiculed by the other little boys and girls. They　made up stories about him not being a real little boy.　About how he had disgusting habits because he was raised in　the desert by a pack of desert foxes. He knew that everyone　else knew that these were all lies, but his childish nature　seized his reason once.

 

I am not quite sure what happened at the time. But I know　that he became　insanely obsessed with finding a way of　getting rid of all that was bothering him. He narrowed it　down to Rumor. He began that by looking for what Rumor　looked like. Being a child, his energy that kept his drive　to reach what he wanted was ridiculously tremendous. He was　not seen outside of his room for days, and I started to　worry. When I visited him, to make sure that he was all　right, I found his room covered with pictures of ugly　things posted on his walls. All of these paintings were　variations of the same thing. It was a bird-like monster　with an eye, an ear and a mouth under each of its feathers.　I asked Ahmed what was the meaning of this and he said that　he had devised a way in which he could curse all the others　who made fun of him. He pointed to the walls and said,　“This is the picture of Rumor. I will kill it. With that, I　will kill those who made fun of me.” “Wow, Ahmed, that’s　funny,” I said. He didn’t smile.

 

He disappeared for about a week, and then just appeared as　if he had never been gone. I had never seen him so radiant.　Did he discover something? His smiles were more radiant as　the days went by. But then again, maybe it was I who has　become more and more shabby. Did he rid the village of　Rumor? Did he save our world from that hideous beast that　thrashed the great civilizations of the East and West?　Maybe. Maybe not. His cause was noble, though. I never saw　Ahmed after that day. Rumor has it that the Earth swallowed　him.