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The Bus Stop
Teenage Faris sobbed and whimpered as he held the bloodied remains of his little sister. She had just asked him to watch her jump rope outside. As was customary, Israeli bombers just destroyed the home near him. The family of a martyr. Only the indiscriminate bombs also claimed the life of his sister.
Growing up in Nabulus, Faris was no stranger to death and the fighting that took place between his people and the Israelis. His family held a name in that fight. The fight had always touched his home. It just never touched home like this. The hatred Faris felt at that moment could not be contained. He brushed the dirt and gathered the strewn about pieces of his sister, deciding at that moment, he would seek revenge for this.
Faris knew exactly who he needed to speak to in order to get the ball rolling. He went to the mosque, spoke to the brothers, and was told, "someone would contact him." True to the word, the following day, he was contacted. He was given instructions to wait outside of his home at a specific time. He didn't tell his mother. She would disprove of the path he was on. No, he had to do this for his sister and the Palestinian people.
A car arrived. He was greeted by two men who had a very hard edge to them. He knees these were fighters. They all looked the same. He was blindfolded and was driven in silence for what felt like two hours. Finally, he arrived at a small flat. Marched upstairs still blindfolded, he was sat in a chair and made to wait for what seemed like an hour.
During this time, he didn't have to imagine, but he kept the last images of his sister in his mind. The countless times he had been harassed for simply being a Palestinian in military-controlled Nebulas. His hatred and anger grew from seed to tree in that short span. Faris, whos name meant knight, would become the knight he was and avenge his sister, no matter what was asked.
Faris was a devout Muslim. Very few people in his circle we're not. He was just never a militant Muslim. Sure, he had thrown rocks as a child and hated the soldiers, but he never wanted their blood as he did now. Besides, who wouldn't want to abandon this fake life and enjoy a real-life in paradise with all those virgins.
Blindfolded and smiling now, his fantasy was interrupted by a voice. It said to him, "I am saddened by the news of what the Jews have done to your sister." Faris, stumbled over a reply, "yes, they must be made to pay." The voice replied in a calm manner, "they will my brother, and you will do it." Apparently, this exchange garnered trust. Rough hands removed the blindfold. A smiling man, with cold narrow eyes, and an almost snakelike demeanor greeted him.
Over the next few hours, Faris was made to listen to the stories of others who had gone before him. The glory of what they did. How it was the highest calling a Muslim is called for. Faris did not need this convincing, he already felt hopeless. He wanted to kill for what they did to his sister. The conversation took a turn, he was shown a belt, containing, eight kilograms of explosives, and the button he would press to avenge his sister. It was all too easy. After being fitted, he was told that when the operation was willed by Allah, he would be told what to do.
Once again, he was back in the car, blindfolded, and heading back to Nabulus. Several days had passed. Faris lived his life as usual while wondering when it would be time. That afternoon on the mosque. The question was answered. A man, he had never seen before approached him. He was told to be ready tomorrow mid-morning, tell nobody of this, and wait outside his home like last time.
To say Faris did not sleep that night, was an understatement. He was brimming with thoughts. The questions and realization of what he was about to do, clawed at his mind. Towards the early morning hours, Faris slept due to exhaustion. Waking to his mother's calls for breakfast, he ate, carried on a conversation as normal. Early morning turned to mid-morning. He kissed his mother and went outside to wait.
As with the last encounter, he was blindfolded, but not driven as far as the last. Taken to a small flat, he was told, "don't leave, there is food, the Quran, new clothes, and the belt you will wear." Faris wouldn't admit it. The sight of the belt made his stomach tight. A thin belt with metal. A tool of mass death, he would wear, to kill those who killed his sister. He was given a heads up that someone would be by in a little while to record his final message for his family and the enemy.
Faris, are the food and read the Quran that always brought him so much comfort. He even smoked some of the cigarettes left to him. Late in the evening, a group of rough men appeared at the flat. They barely spoke to him other than to tell him to change into some soldier clothes they brought and prepare to record his message. The message took three times to record. Faris was not delivering the words in a way they liked. After several tries, he held the gun right and spoke the words in a satisfying manner. The men left and he was instructed that someone would be by to pick him up and take him to the target.
His process repeated itself. He watched TV, he ate, he prayed, he smoked. Late in the night, a man showed up. A car was waiting and the final leg of this trip we're to take place. The drive to the crossing was not long. He was unsurprised to learn the operation would take place in Jerusalem. The infiltration of the state of Israel went off without a hitch. He was one step closer now. More instructions were given to him. He was made to memorize the location and direction to a small bus stop not far from where he was. The bus stop only serviced two routes, a specific bus and time we're given in the instruction.
At this point, he was operational. Told to lay low, not talk to anyone, given very little money, Faris roamed the late-night Jerusalem streets. They lived so differently here than in Palestine. If he were honest, he liked it. He hated himself for feeling this. How could he like his enemy? Yet, as he meandered about, he couldn't help but admire the carefree nature of these people. A few times, he had to stop a persistent thought, "these people didn't kill his sister." Shaking this doubt off as morning began to crest, he started his journey, to the bus stop.
The location was only a short walk for him. In less than half an hour, he arrived early at the bus stop. He had about half an hour before the bus arrived. Going over in his head, all the instruction he was given. Around his waist, the explosives were towards the front. He would need to make sure he got back as far as he could on the bus. Even with the cool morning air, he was sweating. The act of mass murder he would commit started to mess with his mind.
The bus would be here soon now. Coming around the corner, another figure approached. With long flowing brunette hair, only slightly shorter than Faris. A smile plastered over her face. She was adorned in a superman shirt and a skirt. Blurting out to him, "the bus is going to be a few minutes late, what's your name?" Faris was given a backstory for just such an incident. He rattled off his lies. More shocking to him, he couldn't believe the instant attraction he had for this Jewish girl. He internally cursed himself for being so week. Knowing that two buses we're coming, he asked, "Which bus are you waiting for?" She replied with the very bus, he intended to blow up.
Not wanting to alarm this girl, he threw himself into the conversation, all the while, the storm in him raged. This girl was beautiful, how could he take her life with a push of a button. In his utter confusion and taboo attraction, he registered something so obvious about her. This girl wore an eye patch over her innocent face. They spoke of sports, the weather, food, anything, and everything. Faris tried to remember his sister at that moment. Her mutilated dead body in his hands. The anguish on his mother's face. The silent crying she tried to hide every night. He couldn't.
In the distance, the silhouette of the bus drew near. He was racked with indecision and simply spouting out words to keep him from bolting. He turned to the smiling girl and asked, "what happened to your eye?" She grew clouded and replied, "I was on a bus that was attacked, I survived, she smiled and touched his shoulder." That was it for Faris, all of his hate melted away. The bus pulled up, the door opened, she stepped on and looked back at him. "Are you coming?" Faris replied, "I am catching the next line." As the bus departed, he walked awsy and wept.
© Rising Darkstar
Growing up in Nabulus, Faris was no stranger to death and the fighting that took place between his people and the Israelis. His family held a name in that fight. The fight had always touched his home. It just never touched home like this. The hatred Faris felt at that moment could not be contained. He brushed the dirt and gathered the strewn about pieces of his sister, deciding at that moment, he would seek revenge for this.
Faris knew exactly who he needed to speak to in order to get the ball rolling. He went to the mosque, spoke to the brothers, and was told, "someone would contact him." True to the word, the following day, he was contacted. He was given instructions to wait outside of his home at a specific time. He didn't tell his mother. She would disprove of the path he was on. No, he had to do this for his sister and the Palestinian people.
A car arrived. He was greeted by two men who had a very hard edge to them. He knees these were fighters. They all looked the same. He was blindfolded and was driven in silence for what felt like two hours. Finally, he arrived at a small flat. Marched upstairs still blindfolded, he was sat in a chair and made to wait for what seemed like an hour.
During this time, he didn't have to imagine, but he kept the last images of his sister in his mind. The countless times he had been harassed for simply being a Palestinian in military-controlled Nebulas. His hatred and anger grew from seed to tree in that short span. Faris, whos name meant knight, would become the knight he was and avenge his sister, no matter what was asked.
Faris was a devout Muslim. Very few people in his circle we're not. He was just never a militant Muslim. Sure, he had thrown rocks as a child and hated the soldiers, but he never wanted their blood as he did now. Besides, who wouldn't want to abandon this fake life and enjoy a real-life in paradise with all those virgins.
Blindfolded and smiling now, his fantasy was interrupted by a voice. It said to him, "I am saddened by the news of what the Jews have done to your sister." Faris, stumbled over a reply, "yes, they must be made to pay." The voice replied in a calm manner, "they will my brother, and you will do it." Apparently, this exchange garnered trust. Rough hands removed the blindfold. A smiling man, with cold narrow eyes, and an almost snakelike demeanor greeted him.
Over the next few hours, Faris was made to listen to the stories of others who had gone before him. The glory of what they did. How it was the highest calling a Muslim is called for. Faris did not need this convincing, he already felt hopeless. He wanted to kill for what they did to his sister. The conversation took a turn, he was shown a belt, containing, eight kilograms of explosives, and the button he would press to avenge his sister. It was all too easy. After being fitted, he was told that when the operation was willed by Allah, he would be told what to do.
Once again, he was back in the car, blindfolded, and heading back to Nabulus. Several days had passed. Faris lived his life as usual while wondering when it would be time. That afternoon on the mosque. The question was answered. A man, he had never seen before approached him. He was told to be ready tomorrow mid-morning, tell nobody of this, and wait outside his home like last time.
To say Faris did not sleep that night, was an understatement. He was brimming with thoughts. The questions and realization of what he was about to do, clawed at his mind. Towards the early morning hours, Faris slept due to exhaustion. Waking to his mother's calls for breakfast, he ate, carried on a conversation as normal. Early morning turned to mid-morning. He kissed his mother and went outside to wait.
As with the last encounter, he was blindfolded, but not driven as far as the last. Taken to a small flat, he was told, "don't leave, there is food, the Quran, new clothes, and the belt you will wear." Faris wouldn't admit it. The sight of the belt made his stomach tight. A thin belt with metal. A tool of mass death, he would wear, to kill those who killed his sister. He was given a heads up that someone would be by in a little while to record his final message for his family and the enemy.
Faris, are the food and read the Quran that always brought him so much comfort. He even smoked some of the cigarettes left to him. Late in the evening, a group of rough men appeared at the flat. They barely spoke to him other than to tell him to change into some soldier clothes they brought and prepare to record his message. The message took three times to record. Faris was not delivering the words in a way they liked. After several tries, he held the gun right and spoke the words in a satisfying manner. The men left and he was instructed that someone would be by to pick him up and take him to the target.
His process repeated itself. He watched TV, he ate, he prayed, he smoked. Late in the night, a man showed up. A car was waiting and the final leg of this trip we're to take place. The drive to the crossing was not long. He was unsurprised to learn the operation would take place in Jerusalem. The infiltration of the state of Israel went off without a hitch. He was one step closer now. More instructions were given to him. He was made to memorize the location and direction to a small bus stop not far from where he was. The bus stop only serviced two routes, a specific bus and time we're given in the instruction.
At this point, he was operational. Told to lay low, not talk to anyone, given very little money, Faris roamed the late-night Jerusalem streets. They lived so differently here than in Palestine. If he were honest, he liked it. He hated himself for feeling this. How could he like his enemy? Yet, as he meandered about, he couldn't help but admire the carefree nature of these people. A few times, he had to stop a persistent thought, "these people didn't kill his sister." Shaking this doubt off as morning began to crest, he started his journey, to the bus stop.
The location was only a short walk for him. In less than half an hour, he arrived early at the bus stop. He had about half an hour before the bus arrived. Going over in his head, all the instruction he was given. Around his waist, the explosives were towards the front. He would need to make sure he got back as far as he could on the bus. Even with the cool morning air, he was sweating. The act of mass murder he would commit started to mess with his mind.
The bus would be here soon now. Coming around the corner, another figure approached. With long flowing brunette hair, only slightly shorter than Faris. A smile plastered over her face. She was adorned in a superman shirt and a skirt. Blurting out to him, "the bus is going to be a few minutes late, what's your name?" Faris was given a backstory for just such an incident. He rattled off his lies. More shocking to him, he couldn't believe the instant attraction he had for this Jewish girl. He internally cursed himself for being so week. Knowing that two buses we're coming, he asked, "Which bus are you waiting for?" She replied with the very bus, he intended to blow up.
Not wanting to alarm this girl, he threw himself into the conversation, all the while, the storm in him raged. This girl was beautiful, how could he take her life with a push of a button. In his utter confusion and taboo attraction, he registered something so obvious about her. This girl wore an eye patch over her innocent face. They spoke of sports, the weather, food, anything, and everything. Faris tried to remember his sister at that moment. Her mutilated dead body in his hands. The anguish on his mother's face. The silent crying she tried to hide every night. He couldn't.
In the distance, the silhouette of the bus drew near. He was racked with indecision and simply spouting out words to keep him from bolting. He turned to the smiling girl and asked, "what happened to your eye?" She grew clouded and replied, "I was on a bus that was attacked, I survived, she smiled and touched his shoulder." That was it for Faris, all of his hate melted away. The bus pulled up, the door opened, she stepped on and looked back at him. "Are you coming?" Faris replied, "I am catching the next line." As the bus departed, he walked awsy and wept.
© Rising Darkstar
