Doubt Goes For Second Print

My publisher Faisal Mustaffa of Merpati  Jingga has informed me that my book Doubt has gone for second printing . As a writer for the book, one of my job is to promote my own book. So I am highlighting some interesting quotes from my book, Doubt. Hope these quotes inspire you to buy Doubt.......

1)"I do not want the truth. I am not interested in the truth. The 
truth is not important. I just want to be happy.” 
(Page 6)

2) I know what I have done is madness. But when love is not madness, it is not love. When the time comes, I will be ready to face God's wrath, his punishment and his hell.” 
(Page 12)

3)"Why do you hate me so much," I asked his mother, once. 
She didn't have any rational answer. 
"Not all mothers are meant to love their children,” she explained. 
(Page 13)

4) "Jebat must not die," he says 
"He did not commit any crime. I will not allow Jebat to die. I will save Jebat any cost." 
(Page 20)

5) It was strange to have my twin brother undressing me.... to 
have his lips kissing my lips ... to have his naked body brushing 
against mine... to have his hands touching my manhood.
(Page 22)

6) I have been married for the past seven years. And in all those 
years I have not been faithful to my husband. I had slept with 
countless dashing man that had shown any slight interest in me 
and the worst thing is, I feel no guilt.
(Page 27)

7) Love is not enough to keep my mother happy. My father failed 
to understand that. He was utterly shocked when she wanted to end 
their marriage. 
“Do not leave me…I will change… I will become a better man… I 
will change… I will change,” my father kept begging my mother. 
Truly, there was nothing to change. There was nothing wrong with 
my father. He had been a great father, a great husband and a great lover. He had showered my mother with love, laughter and happiness. 
Most women would die to have a man like my father as their 
husbands. But my mother was not like most women. She wanted more out of life. Simple happiness is not for everyone.
(Page 29)

8)Death is the only thing that could give me the peace I desperately want. Sometimes death is not bad thing. Death is ending of all misery. 
(Page 35)

9) I was her secret. And I was tired of being one. I wasn't expecting her to shout our love from the roof top of the Twin Towers. But I didn't want her to hide me, either. I could not totally blame her. She has a lot to lose if we display our feelings, openly. Ours is a society that is not comfortable with two women falling in love…with two women lusting for each other.
(Page 38)

10) “God had failed me, once,” she said. 
“God will not fail me again. He would not let me lose my son. God 
is great. God is not that heartless. God is not that cruel. God 
is great….”
(Page 47)

Chaos

Chaos By Bissme S

The first time I saw him was at the cafe that my parents run. It was raining like cats and dog. He was cold, hungry and was looking some warm food to eat. He was a photographer from the big city.  He wanted to shoot our small beautiful village. He wanted to feature these photos in some travel magazine.  

“Can I find a hotel here?” he asked.

There was no hotel in our village. Out of kindness, my parents offered our guest room to the stranger. But my parents soon learned a bitter lesson that kindness is not always rewarded with kindness.

*****

Four days later, the stranger had disappeared into the air. The stranger did not leave our house, alone. The stranger had abducted me.  My mother screamed her head off when she learned what had taken place. The doctor had given her a sedative to calm her.  My mother spent her days in bed, feeling dizzy and depressed. My father had a high hopes my tragedy would have a happy ending - I would be found and he would be hugging me.  

But my father had forgotten that sometimes God loves sad endings. My kidnapper was nowhere to be found and I was no longer breathing. The police found my body, brutally raped and badly burned.   

*****

I was only thirteen when my life ended tragically. I have become a ghost, wondering in the house that I grew up in and hanging around my parents who love me with all their hearts.

My parents could not see me. My parents could not hear me. But I could see their agony. I could hear their cries of miseries. I could feel their unspoken sadness.

“It is a norm for a child to bury his parents,” my mother said.

“But when the situation is reversed – when parents have to bury their child – the pain can be unbearable.”

My mother had lost faith in God. My mother had stopped going to church. Our regular priest, Father Danny Fratine, visited our home. He wanted to convince my mother to return to church.

 “I cannot pray to a God who had taken away my only child,” my mother shouted.

“There is no place for God in my heart any more. I wish God will be burned in hell.”

My mother took the broom and literarily chased away Father Danny Fratine from our house.

 “God is my enemy,” my mother shouted

“If you love God, then you are  my enemy, too.  And my enemies are not welcome in my house. ”

My mother had become a bitter old woman who constantly cursed God and anyone who love God. My father was in far worse condition than my mother. 

“The police had made a mistake” my father said.

“The dead body they found is not my daughter. They just want to close the case as soon as possible. They don’t care about justice.

“I have done my research. Most paedophiles are not killers. He raped my daughter and most probably, sold her to some brothels. He is not that heartless to kill my sweet Sophia.”  

One morning, my mother and I could not find my father anywhere in the house. There was a letter from him waiting for my mother on our dinner table.  My father had gone to the big city to find me, the daughter he loved and adored. 

 “I will only come back after I find our daughter,” my father wrote.

*****

Nine months passed. There was no sign of my father. I had lost any hope that I would see my father, again. Then, one evening, my father was in my living room.

“I am so glad you have returned home,” my mother said while hugging my dad.  

I thought my father would have realized that his idea of finding me in some brothel home was a crazy one and would finally accept the bitter truth that I was no longer alive. But I was wrong.

“I found Sophia,” my father said.

“Our daughter is not dead.”

I was shocked listening to what my father had uttered. There was no way I could be alive.

“I went from one brothel home to another to find my daughter,” my father said.  

“I could not find her. I felt helpless. I felt defeated. I wanted to kill myself. But killing yourself is not easy. I was sitting on the road, crying my heart out. Then, God had shown me his mercy. God had shown me his greatness.  I saw my daughter on the opposite road, begging. I rushed towards her. I hugged her. I whispered in her ears: I will not let you go.”

Looking at my mother’s expression, my father said: “I know you don’t believe me. Let me prove to you that our daughter Sophia is alive.”

My father called out my name. A girl appeared in front of my mother. She looked like me.  She dressed like me. But she was not me. My mother slowly walked towards her. My mother hugged her.  There were tears in my mother’s eyes

“Your father is hero,” she said to the girl.  

“Your father has found you. My daughter is alive... My daughter is alive....”

*****

The girl was willing to adopt my name. The girl was willing to wear the clothes I wore. The girl was willing to tie her hair just like my hair.  The girl was playing me.  The girl did not care that she did not have an identity of her own.

I suspected that her life on street was a hell. In my house, the girl has food to eat, clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in and the love of my parents.  My house was like a heaven for her. And most people always choose heaven over hell.

*****

My mother wants to embrace God, again.  My mother wanted redemption for saying unkind things about God.

“God has given my daughter back to me,” my mother said.

“God has been kind to me. I have a lot to be grateful for.”

When Sunday came, my mother and my father proudly entered the church with their new daughter. I was sure the villagers will not accept their reality... I was sure the villagers will bluntly tell my parents that that girl was not me... I was sure the villagers will force bitter truth- that I was no longer alive - down their throats.   

But I was wrong. Just like parents, the entire village had gone insane.

They wanted me to see what they see. They wanted me to hear what they hear. They wanted to smell what they wanted to smell.  They wanted me to believe what they believe. They hugged my parents. They hugged the girl that supposed to me.

Watching my parents and the people in my village jumping with joy was like watching a bandwagon of madness.  I cannot make sense of the chaos that surrounded me.   

I thought our church priest Father Danny Fratine will bring calm to the chaos that was taking place in my village...I thought Father Danny Frantine will bring  sanity to the madness that had erupted in our village. But he did not.  Instead, he joined the bandwagon of madness.

In his mass, the good old Father said: “God works in the most mysterious way. God had brought back Sophia to us. What God have done here is a miracle and we should always be grateful to God for this miracle.”

 *****

Two years passed. Initially I was furious that my parents and the people in my village had easily replaced me with a girl that my father found roaming in the streets. I did not want to be replaced. I did not want my identity to be taken away. I wanted them to mourn for me. I wanted them to remember me, forever.

But, now, I am no longer furious. I have learned to rationalize their madness. I have learned to rationalize the chaos that surrounded my life. I am looking at my parents and the people in my village with the eyes of sadness than with the eyes of anger.

They came from a village where nothing bad really happen. They are simple folks. They are not trained to handle my kind of tragedy. My tragedy had broken them. My tragedy had pushed them into the world of madness.

They were tired of living in sadness. They wanted happiness. They wanted hope. They wanted me to be alive. They wanted my tragedy to have a happy ending.  Madness is necessary when you cannot handle the truth.

The End

The Woman I Love

Since the publication of my book Doubt ( a collection of my short stories), I have been extremely lazy and has not been producing any new short stories. Recently  I got my Mojo back, I managed to write a few short stories and I am posting one of new short story in this blog today.  I am dedicating this story  to all those who bought my book Doubt, read them and  have been saying nice things about the book . Thank you for lovely encouragement.  

The Woman I Love – By Bissme S

"Why did you kill her?" I asked.

"Because I want our love story to have a happy ending," Malena answered.

Slowly, Malena walked towards me. Malena kissed me, passionately. Malena unbuttoned my shirt. Malena kissed my chest. Malena unbuckled my belt. Malena put her hands into my pants. I melted. We were on the floor, fucking each other's brains out, in front of a dead body.

Out of exhaustion, I slept off, on the floor that we made love. When my eyes opened the next morning, the dead body was missing. She entered the room with two coffee mugs in her hands.

Placing one of the mugs in my hands, she said:"Drink up your coffee before it becomes cold."

"What happened to...." I asked.

Before I could finish my sentence, Malena answered: "I have taken care of everything while you were sleeping. All you need to do is to make a police report."

Like Malena had instructed, I went to the police station. I told them that my wife was missing ...and I could not find her anywhere.

*****

A few days later, a letter arrived for me. It was from my wife. She no longer loves me...Our marriage was making her miserable…She felt like a bird in a cage that was crying for freedom…She had found a man who brought joy into her miserable life…She wants to spend the rest of her life in his arms.

She wrote: "Forget that I existed in your life. Forget that our marriage existed. When I married you, I really believe you will be the first and last man that I loved. Perhaps, we are not meant to love one person for the rest of our lives"

I showed the letter to the police...To my friends…To her friends…To my relatives….To her relatives.

"My wife is not missing," I said.

"She had abandoned me.”

They believed every lie that was written in the letter. My wife was dead before the letter was even composed.

*****

Have you seen the movie Silence of the lambs?"

"Yes."

"Do you know the character Hannibal in the film?"

"Yes."

“Like him, I eat human flesh. I have eaten every part of her. There is nothing left. I do not think the police can find any trace of her.”

Looking at my shocked expression, Malena laughed her head off.

"Sometimes you can be so gullible," Malena said.

"You believe everything I say and that is what I love about you."

Malena had invented many wild stories on what she did with my wife’s dead body. But all her wild stories had one thing in common. The truth is always missing.

 In one of her wild stories she said that her best friend owned a swimming pool filled with piranhas and she had thrown my wife’s dead body into the swimming pool.

“The piranhas had eaten all of her and there is nothing left,” Malena said with a huge laughter.

The other wild story Malena told me that she had sold my wife body to a pharmaceutical company who was always looking for dead bodies to conduct research on the effectiveness of the new drugs that the company was producing.

“They paid me a hefty sum of money for the dead body,” Malena said, winking at me.

Many times I had lost my temper hearing her wild stories. I wanted the truth and I was not getting it. But I can never stay mad with her. Malena always knows how to win my heart.

"I like it when you get angry," Malena said while resting her head on my chest after one of our love making session.

“You look more handsome when you get angry,” Malena added.

"You will never tell me the truth on what you did to my wife's dead body," I said.

"I always tell the truth even when I lie," Malena said.

"Here you again, speaking in riddles, again," I said.

"Why are you so obsessed with the truth? My darling, the truth is over rated. The truth is not important. All you have to know is that your wife is no longer in our lives. Just be happy. Do not worry about anything else," Malena answered before planting a passionate kiss on my mouth.

*****

"As long as men exist, a woman will have a suffering life.”

That was the motto that my wife believed in when she was not married with me. She belongs to a group of friends who hated men the same way Hitler hated the Jews. If they had ruled the world, they would have wiped out my species. They wanted a world without men.

The first time we met was in a college. I was studying to be a chef while she wanted to be a painter. For me, it was love at first sight. But love had no place in her life.

"I have seen many women giving up their dreams in the name of love,” she said.

“They end up in an apron and making cookies for their husbands.  I am not going to be one of those women.”

She sent back all the love letters I had written to her. She dumped all the flowers and gifts I sent to her in a dustbin. But I never stop pursuing her. I was determined to win her love…I was determined to make her as my wife….I was determined to make her the mother of my children.

“When I go hunting, I rarely go home empty handed,” I told her.

She found my determination attractive, charming and extremely, sexy. Slowly, she allowed me to dance into her heart.

*****

Our love story would have a happy ending. But I made one mistake. I introduced the woman I love to my mother. Abandoned women can be complicated and my mother was no different.

Since my dad left us, her world revolved around me.  My mother never liked any of my friends. My mother wanted me to have only one friend and that friend has to be her. My mother was a controlling freak.  My mother was choking me with her love. There was always tension between us. I wanted freedom. I wanted friends.  Every day I hated my mother, more and more.

“You are my universe and why can’t I be your universe?” my mother asked.  

The moment I was an adult, I decided that I would not stay under the same roof with my mother, anymore.

“You are going to abandoned me like your father did,” my mother said, angrily.

“Mother, please do not be dramatic. I am not abandoning you. I will come to visit you,” I said.

My mother used every trick in the book from tears to begging to change my mind but my mother failed. I kept to my promise. From time to time, I visited my mother. I just wanted a distance between me and my mother. I just want my mother to stop choking me. So I was not surprise that my mother hated everything about the woman I love, from the way she looks to the way she talks.

 “Mother, I know you want me to only love you and no one else, “I said.

“I can’t make you my universe, because I have certain needs that you can’t satisfy. I am sure your religious values would not allow you to jump into my bed.”

A slap landed on my face. I laughed hysterically.

 “Get out from my house,” my mother screamed, angrily.

“Get out from my house...Get out from my house. I do not want to see you, any more.”

******

Two years later, my mother was back in our lives. The woman I love has become my wife. And we were waiting to receive our first child.  My mother was thrilled to be a grandmother. Desperately, my mother wanted to be a part and parcel of my family. But I was not ready to accept my mother in our lives.

“Never marry a man who hates his mother because he will end up hating you,” my wife said, jokingly.

“I do not want you hate me, so you need build a better relationship with your mother. Besides, it will be nice if our child has a grand mother’s love.”

Reluctantly, I listened to the advice of the woman I love. And that was my second biggest mistake.

*****

Most daughter- in- laws hate their mothers-in- laws. But my wife became my mother’s new best friend. They spent a lot of time together. Under my mother’s influence, my wife had changed a lot. There was a time my wife was ambitious. She harboured a dream to be a well known painter.  As a wedding present, I built a shack in our garden where she spent many hours painting.

But she no longer dreams to be a famous painter. She transformed the shack I had built for her painting into a play house for the child we are going to have.

She was outspoken. Not anymore.  My wife became a docile house wife who whose main aim in life is to make me happy.  My wife became one of those women that she despised – A woman who gives up her dreams in the name of love, ended up in apron and making cookies for her husband.

“I have trained her to be a better wife for you and a great mother for your future child,” my mother said, proudly.

My mother, the woman I hate, had changed the woman I love. I could no longer recognise the woman I love. She had become a stranger to me. Slowly, I was beginning to hate the woman I love. What do you do when you hate the woman you love?

*****

“Let us face it, God has an ego problem. Why do we need to worship him, always?  I cannot believe in a God who wants to be praised all the time.”

That is what my wife said when we were dating. But motherhood changed her drastically. My mother took my wife to one of the church sermons and my wife had fallen madly in love with God.

“I want heaven,” my wife said.

“I want heaven for my husband. I want heaven for my child.  Follow the road the God had chosen, heaven will be given to us on a silver platter.”

My wife had became a born again Christian. Literarily, my wife twisted my hands to believe in Jesus and churches.

“Don’t you want your child to grow up with religious values?” my wife said.

“Don't you want your child to go to heaven? You have to be religious at least for your child’s sake."

I have always allowed the woman I love to run my life. I can miss paying my taxes but there is no way I can miss going to church on Sundays. I pretended to be excited about angels, devils, heaven and hell. Inside I was miserable. This was not the life I wanted. I hated God. I hated religion. I hated churches. And most of all I hated my wife.

*****

 “I did not only lose my mother- in- law… I have lost a mentor … I have lost my best friend.”  

That is what my wife said at the funeral service of my mother. I was not interested to give a eulogy on my mother. I would not have anything nice to say about my mother. Gladly, my wife filled my shoes. My wife worshipped the ground that my mother walked on.

“I was a lost soul.” my wife said. 

“But once she entered in my life, I was no longer lost. She had put some direction into my life. She was an angel that saved my soul. She has made me a better human being. I do not have my mother-in-law besides me, anymore. But what she had taught me will never disappear from my heart.” 

Indeed, there is some much truth to what my wife said. My mother was gone but not her influences. My wife had become the carbon copy of my mother.  The woman I hate, my mother had taken over the soul of the woman I love.  My wife was no longer the woman I love.

*****

“I was born to love you and no one else.”

Boldly and bravely Malena confessed her love to me.  Malena wanted me. Malena desired me.

"What you feel for me is madness," I said.

"When love is not madness, it is not love." Malena said.

"Stop chasing me, I would not become your lover at any price," I said sternly.

“When I go hunting, I rarely go home empty handed," Malena said.

Malena never stop pursuing me. Malena never stop seducing me. Malena never stop writing love letters to me. Malena was determined to be my lover.

Malena wrote to me: "I am in love with a man I can't have and you have a woman that you can't love. What a tragic life we are living."

Then, one raining cold night, I became weak and allowed Malena to jump into my bed.

"You are born to ruin me," I said.

Malena wrote poems about me.  Malena painted me. I never felt so loved in my love. I was no longer miserable. When you are in love, you are rarely miserable. We took extreme measures to make sure no one knows about our affair, especially my wife.

*****

The first time I was impressed with Malena when she had her first art exhibition. We had not become lovers, then. Malena presented a series of paintings that depicted the relationship between God and human beings. Her paintings tell the story of human beings who are tired of their God who wants to be worshipped and praised all the time .They invaded Heaven, captured God and beheaded God.

Malena ended her painting series with a quote:" Men will never be free till the last priest is strangled to death."

The paintings were visually stunning but the messages were too twisted for most to digest. God was not portrayed in the good light. Some cursed her. A few spat on her face.  But Malena didn’t care.  Malena had a sheepish smile. Malena enjoyed the havoc she had caused.

Malena said to me at her exhibition: "I find all religion have one thing in common. They are all annoying."

Two days later, our church priest visited Malena with aim of reforming her.

"Repent! God will forgive you and you could likely enter heaven," the priest said.

"But I do not want to go heaven," Malena said.

"Why not," asked the puzzled priest

"Because in heaven, all interesting people are missing," Malena answered with a loud laughter.

******

Malena was a painter, an activist, a rebel and a feminist.  Malena had spent many nights behind bars for taking parts in street protests. Malena believes in speaking up against injustice and making the world a better place.

Malena is not the kind woman who dances her life to the music that society had set for her. I loved her rebellious nature. But then again, everything about Malena fascinates me.

"Well behaved women do not spent time behind bars," I teased her.

"I never wanted to be a well behaved woman," Malena said.

"Every woman dreams to be a well behave woman," I said.

"Not me. I want to create history and well behaved woman seldom create history," Malena said with a huge smile

****

I became careless. Malena became careless. My wife found the love letters that Malena had written to me. My wife found paintings Malena has done of me where I was not wearing anything.

My wife shouted : "How could you let our daughter paint you naked?.

How could you have sex with our daughter?"

I tried to explain to my wife that what Malena and I have is not an ordinary case of incest...we love each other...  we are born to be lovers. My explanation infuriated my wife even more.

"I will report you to the police," my wife yelled.

I will make sure you spend the rest of your life in prison. I will make sure you will never see our daughter again... "

It was then Malena appeared from no-where with a hammer in her hand.  I just watched Malena smashed my wife - her mother - to death. I did nothing to stop Malena. I have always allowed the woman I love to run my life.

The End