Saturday, April 17, 2010

zar




they said she was possessed by demons. they said she challenged the spirits. they sat in the parlor and clucked and gossiped about someone’s sister and someone’s daughter. they said she was a distant relative. they said we used to play together as children. that we measured the breadth of the sky with our hands. and played dress-up in our mothers’ wardrobes. but that didn’t matter anymore. that was before the demons. that was before she screamed in the bathroom. that was before she called them out of the dark. before the headaches and the muteness and the doctors and the psychologists and the sheikhs and the priests. and the evening calls to prayer rang in the night. it was time for the zar to begin. in auntie rosa’s courtyard. in the dark of cairo illuminated by kerosene lamps. in a perimeter decorated with burning candles whose tongues licked the smoky haze of the air. and there was an altar. right over there. stacked with dry fruit. and roasted nuts. and a jug of cool rosewater. they said the fruit and nuts were an offering. one has to keep the demons satisfied. and the aroma of frankincense and oud swirled around us. all ladies in white gallabeyyas and sheer headscarves. and there was a rooster. a red rooster. he squawked to heaven because he knew. and the one they called kodia. SHE. a mystical woman who communed with the spirits. she came in like the queen of sheba in her gallabeyya of royal blue silk. she blinded us with her light. and her gold-capped teeth that glistened in the night. droplets of liquid fire. and the young lady. that one possessed by the demons. she was brought in like a calf to the slaughter. robed in white from neck to ankle like the bride she was to be. before she became the devil’s bride. eyes lined with black kohl. wrists wrapped with gold and silver amulets. hands and feet painted with red henna. and the voices said oh my soul. how my heart aches for her. look at her skin. like fresh milk. ya habibti helwa wi zayy el amar. she’s as beautiful as the moon. and they said after the blood is shed you have to close your eyes. don’t look at her. don’t challenge the spirits. she challenged the spirits and look at her now. malbousa a’ouzou billah. she’s the devil’s bride. and the men came. with a tambourine and a tabla and a flute and a mangour. and they wore long emerald gallabeyyas with red sashes at their waists. and turban-like scarves around their heads. and their kohl-rimmed eyes were like pools of black oil. and SHE. she whispered something. a prayer or an invocation or a spell. poured a handful of powdered incense over the red-hot coals in that incense burner in the corner. and the coals burned orange and the incense sizzled and the smoke curled up into the air. and the music began. doom tikka tik doom tikka tik doom tikka tik and the kodia’s head was an erratic pendulum doom tikka tik doom tikka tik doom tikka tik and the women swayed in a circle around the altar doom tikka tik doom tikka tik doom tikka tik and the dervishes whirled and whirled doom tikka tik doom tikka tik doom tikka tik and their finger cymbals clanged and the flute wailed and the possessed glided. manic eyes. catatonic limbs. beautiful ghost with a face of skin and bones. and i remembered i remembered how we used to climb that mango tree in my grandmother’s garden and jump over the fence to the neighbor’s side and pick her red roses and run like devils were chasing us and i remembered her this girl this demon girl always quiet always quieter than the rest of us always shy and i remembered how one time we’d made her cry told her her brother was retarded and i remembered how one time we’d made her lie told her to run home and tell her mother salma had fallen off a tree and broken her leg but there was a woman. a woman in black. she held the sacrificial rooster by the wings. grabbed the poor creature so he couldn’t even flutter. and she whirled and whirled and whirled. and the rooster whirled like a weathervane. and the music whirled into the night doom tikka tik doom tikka tik doom tikka tik and there were heads that whirled to the rhythm and there were scarves that swirled around shoulders and there was hair that bounced in the air and there was a voice that howled at the moon and there were eyes that rolled back in their sockets and there was spume that spattered from mouths and there were words mumbled in strange tongues and there was a woman who twitched like a snake on the ground and the circle of dancers bubbled like lava and the possessed was lost in the crowd but a wave of dancers ebbed and there she was thin fragile pale. chest heaving. head rolling. black curls twisting. twisting in the air and the voices said somebody support her somebody catch her before she falls and they hovered and reached and pulled back. and the darawish reached up emerald-clad arms and removed their headdresses and their hair fell in gleaming tresses cascading sheets of midnight black and long locks whirled and whirled and whirled and an agonized scream cut the air and the possessed that one with the demons the one we’d played with as children she crumbled to the ground and the music stopped. and the night was silent. and there was an awkward air. in auntie rosa’s courtyard there was an awkward air. and the sacrifice was brought to the kodia. and there was squawking squawking godawful squawking. and SHE. she slipped a knife out of her brass belt. slid it across the rooster’s neck. swift and bold. and the bird jerked once. and the sacrificial blood flowed crimson red on the white marble floor. and they lifted the possessed. brought her to the brew. dipped her hands into it. guided them to her face her hair her body. and the stench of acrid sweat and oxidizing blood hung in the air like a tumid shroud. and they sprinkled her face with rosewater mayya mayya mayya mayya mayya bismillah bismillah bismillah and she opened her kohl-streaked eyes and let out a scream. a scream that made the blood simmer in our bones. and a lady screamed. screamed a scream from the depths of her womb. screamed a mother’s scream and said oh my child why won’t they let you be? and the women rushed to the mother’s side. the mother of the devil’s bride. god help you. allah ma’aki they said. and under their breath they muttered god protect us from all evil. a’ouzou billah min al shaytan al rajeem. and they held up their palms to ward off the spirits. and the mother said when will my child be freed from these demons? must she die so they can be satisfied? and SHE. she said only god in his infinite power can free her. the sacrifice will satisfy the lust of the demons. but the power belongs to god and him alone. and the mother choked. choked on her sobs and said where is he? nothing is working. not the doctors or the psychologists or the sheikhs or the priests. not the bible or the qur’an or the bedouin incantations. my beautiful daughter is dying and where is god. why does he disappear when i beg his help? why is he deaf to a mother’s prayers? and the women said don’t lose your faith. god will deliver her. this is his promise. just believe in his power and your daughter will be spared. but the mother rolled her head up to the heavens. raked her desperate fingernails over her face. looked out at the invincible darkness. and said. i don’t know what to believe anymore.

50 comments:

  1. Ooh...I really liked this piece. That last line really brings it all together very nicely and makes you stop and think.

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  2. doom tikka tik doom tikka tik I can hear this in my head .

    Mighty powerful piece, Nevine. One wrought from experience, it would seem. Wow. Just wow.

    I read this to myself, aloud. I think one must hear this piece in order to fully appreciate where you take us, here.

    Stunning. Absolutely stunning.

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  3. Reading that was like running at top speed. I read it again, thinking I'd slow down this time. You can't slow down...
    breakneck pace.
    Freaking brilliant Nevine!

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  4. I have missed you.... and its only been afew days sine your last post.... what does this say?

    you are good.....

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  5. Incredible tension, like watching the Exorcist...

    How intelligently and passionately you capture the brutal forces of superstitions in all their bloodthirsty power... heaven help us...

    And you left us with the terrible suspense of her fate unresolved... not sure I'm going to be able to eat or sleep or think straight until you provide us with "Part 2" in which we find out if she lives, if she is cured, or if she is not cured, if she dies... oh cruel writer you are to so terribly leave us wondering... You should have been a writer for one of those serialized publications back in the 1800's like Dickens wrote for, with a new episode appearing weekly... you would have sold millions of copies !
    :-)

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  6. My friend, just when I think you cant surprise me, cant take my breath away...you do.....this is a brilliant piece, such imagery....

    you my friend are a true talent

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  7. You have left me breathless and not just because you so aptly chose a format in keeping with a dervish or demon dance, but also because once again you startle me with your, yes, religious imagery. The feeling you so brilliantly created reminded me of the experiences I had as a child when those around me were twirling while "speaking in tongues." Really, I'm just blown away by the images, the structure, the development of a theme et al. Well done, Nevine. Well done. You are an original talent.
    Judy

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  8. The pace of this story is electrifying, every words burns with beautiful synergy. The barbarism of religion, of sacrifice and worship - it is a truly haunting tale. This story reminds me of one of my favourite poems, "Night of the Scorpion" by Nissim Ezekiel, I would recommend it.

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  9. did you came to brazil for get inspired ? this is happening here right now in all the neigborhoods everyday ....

    i like the intencity you give to it . i imagine if you had to write a song for this , how would it be ?

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  10. Wow- this was an amazing story, so powerful and consuming! I’ve got goosebumps and read the whole thing without a taking a breath from beginning to the end; it flows! The ending kept me wondering about her faith, I hope there is a part two coming on its way… :)

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  11. Nevine, you are a remarkable talent. I was
    obsessed with this woman, the poor broken
    girl inside of her.
    Writing such a deep atmosphere as this put
    me write inside, the colors, the scents,
    the haunting music.

    Brava!

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  12. A thrilling piece that cannot fail to quicken the heart. Tragically colourful imagery at every turn. The sights, sounds and pungent aromas of the tortured soul, impossible to resist.

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  13. You always never fail, to give me food for thought after reading your poems/writing pieces, Nevine.
    Extremely powerful story, haunting and filled with incredible tension.
    You are a master of imagery and you just perfectly know how to create powerful images.You got me with this one!The last line you 've chosen to end this writing piece made me think of how this philosophical everlasting Q remains with no answer through the ages. Mankind's agony!
    Thank you for sharing with us such powerful and deep thoughts.

    I also thank you for your lovely comments on my blog, my sweet friend:o)
    Hope you have a wonderful Sunday!

    Big hugs!
    Betty xx

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  14. Gavin – I’m happy to hear that the last line encapsulated the piece for you. As I was writing this, I was thinking that this dilemma does not end, so how do I capture it? I’m glad you enjoyed this, Gavin.

    Lou – Thank you, and also thank you for reading it out loud. I think that does a lot for it, to be able to hear it. Sometimes we hear things in our heads differently…

    Pat – Hey, thanks. And the breakneck pace… thank you for that, too. I wasn’t sure if I had quite captured that part. The reassurance is priceless, Pat!

    Sir Thomas - :-)

    Owen – Sometimes a Part 2 spoils the story. At least, that is what I’ve always believed. I think this one stands better by itself. We say that every problem has a solution, but sometimes that is just not true. Some things are left hanging, and leave us hanging, for years and years and years. But then, I’ve said, before, that there wouldn’t be a Part 2 for one of my other pieces, and then I turned around and changed my mind… So, there are no absolutes. And as usual, Owen, you flatter me… and leave me smiling. :-) We’ll see what happens…

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  15. Steven – I’m glad you liked the imagery. I was wondering if maybe there was too much. But at this type of event there is so much going on all at once.

    Judy – This religious imagery comes from my memories, too. My grandmother loved to attend zar ceremonies at her cousin’s house, and when my family and I would visit for the summer, my mother would encourage me to attend with her; she wanted me to experience all aspects of Egyptian culture, especially because we lived overseas. And my grandmother was always horrified and would tell my mother that zars are not for children; she had her superstitions. But my mother always insisted, and of course I was more than happy to tag along. What an experience for a child to witness! For me, the excitement was priceless. And there are so many parallels between religions, especially the monotheistic religions, it’s no wonder that many images do cross over. Once again, you’ve left my ego up in the sky, Judy. I’m so happy you liked this piece.

    Sam – Thank you for the recommendation. I will look up this poem; now you have my curiosity going. And yes, sacrifice seems to play a role in many of the religions of the world. I know this started eons ago, and was an elemental part of how people lived and believed. But I sometimes wonder why we still practice animal sacrifice, and why some religions even practice human sacrifice. As they say, old habits die hard, and many of these practices are steeped in tradition, not just religious belief. I don’t think they’ll be going anywhere anytime soon…

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  16. Caio – This sort of thing happens in many countries… you would be surprised. And I do know that Brazil has quite an active religious/spiritual ceremony culture. History travels across the earth… We have always been a smaller world than we will ever be able to imagine.

    Lua – Hello, and welcome! Faith… yes. Sometimes we are all left questioning our faith because of one thing or the other. Maybe this one is best left hanging, as we are sometimes left. But then again, I don’t know. Thank you for the lovely visit, Lua, and for leaving your thoughts. I hope you will visit again.

    Cynthia – Thank you! I tried to capture as many images and senses as I possibly could. I wondered if I was doing too much, or maybe too little, as I was working on it. I wasn’t sure. Even as I was posting it, I wasn’t so sure. Thank you for the reassuring comment!

    Martin – I’m very happy with your thoughts on the imagery. Like I mentioned to Cynthia, I had my doubts about how it was coming across. We only have our own perspective, and as a writer, one’s perspective can naturally be skewed. Thank you.

    Betty – You’re absolutely right to say “Mankind’s agony”. Isn’t it so? Something is always testing us. Something is constantly challenging what we believe, and what we believe in. Different people come with their different belief preferences, but no matter what those beliefs are, they are tested. It really is our biggest challenge, and it seems to never end. Thank you for your insight, Betty. I know you are always such a careful reader! Hugs back to you! :-)

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  17. I'm sitting here with my mouth wide open. I can't believe how you ended this. It's scary, creative, spiritual, psychological. It's amazing. And I don't know what else to say. I'm speechless.

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  18. this knowledge of yours about the demonic possessions astounds me... well not really. knowing about a country and its culture includes this sort of things... I've never been witness to such rituals, but heard a lot about it... and it includes the rooster thing... curious... all these witches or whatever they are have a lot in common...no matter where they are from, Cuba, Canaries, Italy, Egypt, Brazil... I wonder why...
    What I cannot understand is why that demon did not let her go... These things usually work!!!

    OMG
    this gives me goose bumps

    Great story dearest queen

    Dulce

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  19. Hi Nevine,

    Your pieces of magic bring memories to my head and heart. I've been away from home for sometime now and your words, especially the Egyptian expressions and words,implant me again in the mud of our culture.

    I can relate to what you described as I have been in such places myself when I was a child.

    I also enjoyed your earlier posts about you last summer trip to Egypt. I used to live in downtown Cairo so I was feeling all the places you described, Bridge Kasr El Nil, El-Hussein, El Fishawi Cafe, Alexandria, etc...

    Last, thank you for thanking me many times about posting one of your poems on my blog. It's a very simple gesture and an honour to share such work from a talented writer and poet.

    Have a nice week

    Khaled

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  20. *deep breath*

    This was chilling. You brought the Egyptian culture so vividly to my mind, with the rhythm of the words and the descriptions of their dress and the smells and tastes on the air.

    Then in the middle of it is this desperation for healing and confusion of faith. What was most interesting to me was how you wrote it in such a way that the reader doesn't know what to believe. Is the girl really ill or is she being persecuted for some other reason? Are the people who are killing the rooster trying to help her or hurt her? Does the Quran truly prescribe this kind of healing or is it a misinterpretation? What do they mean when they say she's the devil's bride? The mother's confusion becomes the readers confusion. Very well written.

    Jai

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  21. Oh my how you do lead us along...

    the emotions engaged by this piece are as intense as those contained in it. fast and dangerous.

    isn't creative passion always so untamed? isn't it always a threat?

    wonderful.

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  22. Nev-
    I don't have the understand of this realm to handle it properly but I know there is a power that works in belief. Sometimes better left alone. Wonderful telling. ~rick

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  23. Coucou Nevine!
    J'ai adoré comme d'hab. Ça se lit tout seul et d'un trait. Mais une question me tarabuste:
    la fille sera-t-elle punie à cause de la croyance ou non croyance de la mère?
    Je suis impatiente de lire la suite, s'il y en a une. Mais je crois que non, n'est-ce pas?

    ***
    Gros gros bisous étoilés*******

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  24. Hey Nevine,
    Absolutely brilliant, simply superb, I saw it happeneing right before my eyes..... through your words... you are right this sort of things happen in many countries, also here in India.... I am a practicing muslim and I can tell you this sort of a ritual is an innovation... and goes against the teaching of Islam.....given me something to write about, maybe I'll come up with something related to this topic soon... :)

    Hat's off to you, and it's sounds like a broken record now, but I can't help but tell you over and again, I Love your writting...:))

    Cheers
    Seema

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  25. superbly wrought, my friend!

    my fave of yours, so far, and they're all brilliant...

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  26. You took me with you.. to watch that ceremony.. and feel everything in my veins..
    Still feel haunted..
    Costas

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  27. Wow, that was amazing. The last line left me breathless.

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  28. Nancy – Thank you. Your comment has left me speechless, too. I’m happy you were able to connect with this piece on so many levels.

    Dulce – We are all so very similar in so many ways. And there are many elements of culture that cross over from one country to the other. Why did the demon not let her go? Who knows? When it comes to the other dimensions, there are always things that operate on higher, or lower, levels than we can understand…

    Khaled – I think every Egyptian has experienced seeing a zar or at least something similar. It’s such a part of Egyptian culture, and it infiltrates all classes. I know I was fascinated at watching a zar unfold when I was a child. And I can only remember how horrified my grandmother was every time my mother mentioned taking me along! I’m happy you read my “Going Home and Coming Home” piece, as well. I almost didn’t publish it. In fact, I almost didn’t write it. It was such a painful experience to relive those beautiful memories. And finally, your “very simple gesture” was greatly appreciated. Thank you, Khaled.

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  29. Jai – You have so many questions, I almost don’t know where to begin. Let’s try and keep it simple: The zar is not meant to be an exorcism. However, it is misunderstood by many, even in Egypt, to be just that. The whole idea behind the zar is to try and tame the evil spirits and keep them happy. As for the Qur’an, it does not mention at all the word “zar”, and any ceremonies that even remotely touch on the occult are absolutely forbidden. Trying to dabble in the occult is entirely frowned upon by the Islamic religion, and the zar has been outlawed by Al Azhar (the higher authority on Islam) for decades. Still, it is so ingrained in Egyptian superstition, it is still practiced, and not in the least privately. The people who are killing the rooster are actually trying to help the girl. The rooster is a sacrifice whose blood is meant to appease the thirst of the demons. And as for the girl, well… your question goes into some very grey area. Sometimes people are afflicted by psychological issues that can be interpreted as “demons”. In a way, they are figurative demons. But Egyptians have long held a belief in demonic possession, and in certain rituals to try and reverse it. Is she really possessed? Is she mentally ill? So much grey area, Jai. I can’t presume to know…

    Kim – Creative passion is the highest form of passion I can imagine. What would life be without it? Without creative passion, we would all be passionless creatures. Such an existence, I would not want. I’m glad you enjoyed this, Kim. Your comment thrills me…

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  30. Rick – Absolutely sometimes better left alone! But I love to dive into the dark pools of the unknown. And sometimes I get myself in trouble doing it. Still, I dive…

    Crémilde – La fille ne sera pas punie à cause de sa mère, mais je pense qu’elle continuera a être punie à cause de son comportement. Selon les “règles”, elle a fait quelque chose pour “inviter” les démons, et elle continuera à souffrir pour son péché. Ah, Crémilde, pas de suite, ici. Au moins pour le moment… Mais peut-être je changerai d’avis. On ne sait jamais! Gros gros bisous, ma chère.

    Seema – I do know this ritual is an innovation. It was created by the people within their cultures, and based on their personal superstitions, not at all based on religion. But it’s amazing that such superstitions can carry through the centuries, and that such rituals can continue to be handed down. We tell ourselves that we change, and that we evolve. But do we, really? I look forward to reading what you write, Seema. I really do.

    LW – You’re awesome. You make me smile… *beam*

    Costas – I’m happy to have brought it alive for you. :-)

    Eva – I think the last line was the key part in the story. I’m glad it clicked for you.

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  31. yes , you're totaly right Nevine !!
    i was now looking to the photos of your side bar .... you have wonderful things there .

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  32. Amazing story. Amazing telling.

    I hoped at first this was one of your dreams, then realized it would have to be classified as a nightmare. I agree with your grandmother on this one.

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  33. Demonic possessions..WOW
    I could see the whole scene with ur words.
    All emotions included.
    Really lovely work again Nevine..
    Not many could have written this piece as this is written..::)

    Cheers

    Nuts

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  34. Absolutely friggin fantastic. I loved the way you spun this, sucking us in first with these short little bits, working us into the story, and the pace increasing without pause, without paragraph breaks until the end where it seems about to climax and the sentences become longer and then short short short and then the italics dropping us into the mother's head. I mean, holy cow, just the structure is a work of art. But the description? So tactile and vivid--I could hear it, feel it. It was like being right there. Certainly not something I'd want to experience in real life, but wow, so well told as if to let you experience it from a distance. Well done.

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  35. Caio - Glad you like my pix. Every one of them is filled with a bonbon of a memory! :-)

    ConTemplate - But if my mother had listened to my grandmother's superstitions, I would have missed out on witnessing such a fascinating experience! I attended several zars, and they were all similar in some respects, but in others, they were very different. I do remember each and every one, though, like it had just happened!

    Nipun - Thank you. You're always so kind, and always sweet. Glad you enjoyed it! :-)

    Carolina - Wow! You are an observant reader. And do I ever appreciate it! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and observations, Carolina. It's nice to know how others interpret one's writing and style.

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  36. nevine, i love that after all the wildness, and the awkward, awkward air, you remind us, the reader where we are, in auntie rosa's courtyard. but who could forget.

    you present a study on the rituals of appeasing that devil, and really know the material. then you write it so understandingly well.

    reading this gave me discomfort, since I do become your characters. yes, i have visited your blog several times. it is good.

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  37. You simply amaze me. I don't know what else to say.

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  38. Nevine,

    This post takes me home,

    i can hear the clamour and cries.

    You evoke with fascination the memories of my own childhood where i would be caught between eeiry expressions drenching out of the esoteric human anatomy.

    i recall with nostalgia the days in the village and all the strange stories that one would find right there and nowhere else...and oh..the frightening twitches on the facial muscles of the healer-dancer .... the dust rising from the grammer in his footwork as he communicated with the gods and demons.

    What gave me nightmares then makes me smile today.....but today these traditions have sadly becoming an entertainment and the poor Shaman is getting paid to play the clown.

    Their true anthropological values still have much light to offer...for the human psyche is so densely rich.

    Thankyou for all the gift in this story and bring me the magic.
    Nevine , You're so unique....my magician of words and imaginations...With you we never know where we are going to go next...abracadabra...!;-)

    love and hugs.
    Col.

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  39. Yikes...as usual i have been tying so quickly....to discover all the blooming mistakes in my phrases..hope you'll overlook them!

    Col

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  40. Wow, Nevine. The masterful pacing of this piece is fantastic. I loved too the story's many creative characteristics: the stream of consciousness aspect; the absence of capitalization except SHE in all caps; the only punctuation the period or occasional question mark to end one image or thought and begin another. The whole thing gave me goosebumps. Simply brilliant.

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  41. Been quite some time eh. Missed the reading. Just settling in a new place and it's lovely that some things are familiar like the Dreams and Deliriums for instance.

    How I missed coming by here.

    Well, I ought to comment about the post and not about me :)

    The scene is so very familiar. I have seen it in India so many times and also keep hearing about it. I often feel quite sad for the person who is subjected to such bizzare treatment. While so many 'developments' happen, there is also this parallel happening. What history do we want to be proud of. I am writing whatever crosses my mind. I feel that by not coming here, I am justified in scribbling my rants.

    Nevine, lovely to read your work. It feels like home home. You know what I mean?

    Joy always,
    Susan

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  42. It was quite a powerful piece. It being in one block of words reminded me of William James' essay on stream of consciousness.

    Still, breaking your narrative in paragraphs would be easier on your reader's eyes. We want to be easy on a visitor's eyes since we do not ever know when a blogging agent might be dropping by.

    Just a thought. I was bound to have one sooner or later. Roland

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  43. Alix – Welcome to my dream world! And thank you for leaving your thoughts. I have to tell you that a lot of what I write can cause discomfort. But if you feel like you are becoming my characters, then that is the highest compliment for me. I’m happy you like what’s here, and I look forward to your visits.

    Bard - :-)

    COL – It sounds like you experienced some very sharp memories. But these types of memories are not easily erased from our psyches… they linger. And then we see something, or read something, and the memories are triggered. They’re so vivid, it’s like we’re reliving them. That’s what I experienced, too, when I remembered a similar event. And I agree with you… the healers are no longer true. Well, some of them are. But some of them are just performers, being paid to please the crowds. It’s sad that such pieces of culture are dying away. Though they are quite abstract practices, they are still part of custom… I know what you’re saying. Abracadabra all the way! And don’t mind the typos. We all make them… :-)

    Nicole – Thanks for the feedback. I really appreciate it. It was a stream of consciousness exercise for me, so it was a bit out of my regular writing zone. I’m happy to hear the effects I intended came through.

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  44. Susan – I’m so happy to see you. I hope you’re enjoying your time, so far. I know being in a new place can be a bit of a challenge, but we are so quick to adapt. And I don’t mind at all your comments about you. It’s nice to know what’s going on in your world. As for your rant, please do rant away. I agree that people who undergo these sorts of “healings” can be subjected to some strange rituals, but sometimes those very people are believers in the powers of these events to heal. They are more than ready to indulge. And for me, the zar is such a part of the culture in Egypt, it would be sad if it were to fade away. Still, I do know and agree with what you’re saying. Sometimes we have to dig deeper to truly exorcise the real demons inside of us. Unfortunately, not many people see those “demons” for what they truly are. And Home Home… oh, yes. I do know what you mean! ;-)

    Roland – Hello and welcome. About your comment on breaking the piece down into paragraphs, I usually do that with my fiction pieces. There’s proper punctuation and grammar and the whole works. This piece was a bit different for me, though. There was so much going on, I didn’t want to write it as a short story or vignette. I wanted to write it as a stream. In fact, the first draft had absolutely no punctuation whatsoever. I fixed that a bit when I was editing it. Sometimes, I feel like I want to capture a certain effect with a piece, so I use my writer’s license. Hey, I have it! And agents… well, I don’t really blog for that purpose, though I wouldn’t mind it. Still, my writing is something that comes from my soul… and I like to remain true to myself all the time. Thanks for the thoughts, and I look forward to your future visits, too.

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  45. wow! this is a real masterpiece! no wonder you have so many followers!

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  46. Choked. Breathless reading this. The mother, i feel for her. Exorcism of this sort happens in Malaysia, by tok guru and bomohs. I can totally relate to this, though i would really want to know the girl's fate.
    By not using caps and paragraphs, you kept my eyes racing through the lines, setting perfect mood and pace. I'm drawn in to the story together with vivid memories of someone i knew in the past going through the same thing.

    Amin.

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  47. Smita - Thank you.

    Zachary - I can imagine your relating to this. This type of ceremony is very popular in many cultures, and the superstitions are quite the same. And thank you on your thoughts about my formatting and styling; I often wonder, when I post a block post how it will come through. :-)

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  48. Wonderfull written Nevine, it was as if I was just there watching your lines..

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  49. Turquoise - I'm happy you enjoyed this piece.

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Your thoughts are deeply appreciated.