On a chilly autumn night, he drove his car, his face etched with an unusual, deep worry as an elongated, empty road stretched ahead of him.
Deep inside him, he couldn’t help but feel that this gloomy, deserted road had become a part of his after-work nights, as if it was tracing the desperate path of his life before his eyes, reminding him of his lamentable living reality after his wife and eight-month-old baby had been brutally killed in a gruesome murder.
He was used to returning late from work every night, driving along the same desolate road towards his small flat in the neighbourhood. But that particular night was unlike any other night.
With exhausted eyes, he gazed at the pale streetlights flickering faintly before him, as if they were the fading flame of his life, disappearing slowly into the sombre surroundings.
Along the road, his weary eyes surveyed the darkness, here and there, chasing his dizzy thoughts that flew ahead.
Earlier in the day, he had performed a very long complicated surgery on a cancer patient who was in labour, desperately trying to save her life and that of her baby.
He could still remember her heartbreaking sobs, still ringing in his ears like drum beats. “Please save my baby! I beg you, save him, please!” Then she had grabbed his arm tightly in a desperate last move in front of the surgery room. “I’m not important, Dr. Anyway, I will die. You know I will. But please, save my baby. He is the only happy memory that I will leave in this world!”
As he continued driving at a furious speed, he let out a high-pitched scream as he slapped his forehead violently with his shivering palm. “Why hadn’t I saved her baby? Why did I let him die in my hands?”
His breaths grew slow beneath the sound of his long, piercing groans, as if mountains of sorrow perched upon his chest. “She trusted me. She believed that I could save her baby. Why did I let her down in the last moments of her life? How could I not save him?”
He began sobbing uncontrollably, striking the steering wheel hard with both fists when suddenly, a baby pushchair appeared in front of him, right in the middle of the road, interrupting his painful, dizzying thoughts.
In a daze, he swiftly swerved to the right to avoid crashing into it and came to a stop.
Without thinking, he rapidly dashed out of his car whilst around him, the area appeared to be a strange, dark, overgrown place with an eerie, oppressive atmosphere.
Staring at the pushchair, he called out with all his might, “Hello? Is there anyone here?”
Then he took a step closer, but to his great surprise, he found it was empty.
“Am I hallucinating?” he exclaimed as he turned nervously around the pushchair, checking it cautiously. “How can anyone leave a pushchair on the road?! Where is the baby?”
All of a sudden, he heard a sharp cry of distress that shattered the silence. “Save him! Save him! Please save my baby!”
The voice seemed to scream in deep heartache. It began to yell once more, growing sharper. “Save my baby!”
“STOP! STOP! Please stop!” he shrieked helplessly, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his ears with his sweaty hands as the thrilling, high-pitched wails filled the place, breaking out from every corner of the empty road.
He rushed toward his car and opened his door with his trembling hands, when, suddenly, a faint sound caught his attention. It sounded like a baby’s cry echoing from the depths of a profound hole in the ground.
Amid his fear, he walked towards the source of the baby’s cries, whilst he felt a few, swift footsteps growing closer to him.
His blood ran cold as he realised he was being followed.
He froze, motionless like a statue. “Is anyone here? Who are you? Why are you following me?” he screamed, his voice shrill with terror.
To his great fright, the footsteps stopped close at hand.
His mouth went dry as his wide eyes darted from left to right, trying to catch a glimpse of anything, anyone, any single movement, when he fetched the baby’s body, wrapped in a blanket, from beneath the bushes.
As he leaned forward to see the his face, the figure shifted behind him, letting out a spine-chilling murmur, barely audible through the alarming darkness, “Why you did not save the baby?”
He turned his head in dread when, unexpectedly, a heavy hammer struck him violently in the thigh.
Immediately, he fell to the ground, clutching his thigh in pain.
“Please let me go. What do you want from me?” he mumbled desperately as the tall, dark figure enveloped him, like the shadows of a flame dancing upon his cold body on the ground.
Then, in a daze, he grasped him strongly by the shoulders and began to lead him away.
“I swear I tried to save him,” he stuttered, his voice growing weak and broken. Meanwhile, from the depths of the bushes, the incessant sharp cries of the baby still resonated through the spine-tingling silence of the desolate surroundings.
I read all what you wrote and honestly I am very impressed because I enjoyed not only One story, but a beautiful collection of stories, short novels, poetry, history, and cinema also, all summed up in what you wrote, you talented writer, distinguished by your style, not only by your beautiful style and your perfect language, but also the wide scope of your imagination and thinking. I have read other writings but you are really special. You have your own style. When I read your writing, I know that it is Zayneb🖊️ . You are truly talented because you created a fun style that actually made me laugh and, in the horror that I imagine every word. It was as if I was watching a well-directed horror movie, and also your historical informations that made me enjoy learning about it through your story and your style. You succeeded in not only drawing the reader to your stories and wishing they would never end, but you also succeeded in moving the reader’s feelings, and this is rarely the case. I wish you all the success, creative writer, and thank you for making me enjoy your wonderful writings, which I look forward to a lot of, Incha Allah.