Chapter 1
Four nurses carefully transferred my semi-conscious body from the ambulance to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) in a hospital located in northern Seattle. This hospital was the nearest one to the Emerald Nocturne night club, where I had spent my last conscious hour. In the ICU, they swiftly connected an oxygen tube to my nose, attached a serum drip to my left arm, and placed electrocardiography (ECG) leads on my chest to monitor my heart’s rhythm. Unfortunately, the ECG readings revealed an irregular heartbeat that was far from ideal.
The sound of my heartbeat grew louder, filling my head with its rhythmic thump. In that moment, the beeping transformed into a voice I had long forgotten: my grandmother’s. Memories of my grandma’s stories, long forgotten from my childhood, suddenly flooded back with vivid detail. The beeping of the machines faded into the background as her voice echoed in my mind. It was a moment shared among a small gathering of 20-30 people, where the power of my heartbeat and the resurgence of my grandma’s story created a profound atmosphere.
A story my grandmother had told me twenty years ago suddenly sprung to mind. It was a bedtime story from my childhood, one that I hadn’t thought of for years. It’s curious how certain events can trigger forgotten memories, prompting us to recall stories that we wouldn’t typically think of in our daily lives. This moment, lying in that hospital bed, was one of those times for me.
<Flashback>
One Hour Earlier
After receiving a firm rejection from my ex-girlfriend, I made a swift decision to shift my mindset. What better way to do so than by immersing myself in a lively and bustling environment? A night club seemed like the perfect choice, with its vibrant music, rhythmic jazz, energetic dances, and the joyful clinks of glasses. Emerald Nocturne, my beloved haunt, became the solution to my heartbreak. Although I had anticipated this outcome for some time, I had still clung to a glimmer of hope in the midst of darkness. Sadly, the rejection extinguished any lingering optimism I had left.
The night had taken an unexpected turn. I found myself in a bustling nightclub, Emerald Nocturne, a familiar refuge on weekends to escape the monotony of the week. With a beer in hand, I settled into my spot, observing the energetic dance floor where people moved with abandon. Some unleashed wild and exuberant movements, while others swayed their hands in the air, all while holding their beer glasses and cheering on others. The atmosphere was electric, filled with pulsating music and vibrant energy.
Amidst the captivating scene, a faint aroma of perfume wafted through the air, catching my attention. Turning my gaze to the right, I noticed a man diligently serving drinks to the crowd. However, it was when I shifted my gaze to the left that I encountered an elegant woman, her attire featuring a half skirt and exposed shoulders. Her eyes locked onto mine, creating an intense connection in that fleeting moment.
And strike up conversations with the beautiful, single women who lounged by the bar, sipping their drinks and scanning the room. On this particular evening, one of these women turned to me, asking:
“Hey, are you enjoying yourself here?”
me: “Yes, I come here most weekends. What is your name?”
Natasha: “Natasha”
Then she inquired about my origins.
Natasha: “Where are you from?“, her words were drowned out by the raucous sounds of the DJ and chattering crowd. I moved closer, asking her to repeat herself.
me: “Baghdad, the capital of Iraq”
I put my left hand leaned on the desk bar and smiled to her. As our eyes were locked in , a towering figure appeared - a blond man who was taller than 6 feet 4 inches.
Tall man : Don’t do it.” He said and an authoritative tone and disappeared to the crowed. Two minutes later he came to me and said again:
Tall man : “Don’t do it. I know her boyfriend is around here. I’m just trying to keep you alive.” Then, again he vanished. I was taken aback, barely able to comprehend the situation, particularly given that my conversation with the woman had hardly begun.
Natasha: “Hey, where are you from?” she asked again.
me: “From Iraq,” I replied.
Natasha:“Want to have a drink?” she offered.
me: “Oh, yes, sure.” In a matter of minutes, she returned from the bar with two glasses of red wine.
Natasha: “Cheers.”
me: “Cheers.“we said
We clinked our glasses together, kept our eyes locking and sharing a smile. The aroma of the vintage wine mingled with the scent of her perfume, creating a heady mix that lingered in the air.
Leaning in closer to ask her a question, my vision suddenly shifted. I felt a staggering force on my neck, and my cheek abruptly met the cold floor. As I caught glimpses of shattered glass around me, a shoe loomed in my blurry vision, swiftly striking my nose. Although I felt no immediate pain, I noticed droplets of what looked like red wine on the ground. However, the metallic smell betrayed their true nature: it was my blood, mingling with the spilled wine. As my vision continued to flip upside down, I was only aware of the pain later, when I found myself on an ambulance rushing me towards a hospital. The same hospital I introduced at the start of this story.
The pain intensified steadily until I felt a needle puncture my right neck, injecting a cold liquid that flooded my brain. My brain got cold. Soon after, everything went numb and felt far away; like a journey within a second from Seattle to Baghdad. It was then that I recalled my grandmother and her tale, the forgotten story that she told me for several times in my childhood.
grandma: “Hesham Al Ghondi, my great-great-grandmother’s brother, was involved in a fateful incident with a drunk man. This tale takes us back two hundred years ago to a southern town in Baghdad, Iraq.”
grandma : “Hesham and his younger brother were invited to a party. They sat on the floor along with others, eagerly anticipating dinner. The gathering was a familial one, organised in preparation for the host’s daughter’s wedding. Hesham’s brother was known to be a funny man, always cracking jokes about people, making them laugh and contributing to the overall cheerfulness. However, something shifted after he said something to the host’s daughter. Her face clouded with worry, and she promptly disappeared.”
grandma: “Just five minutes later, the host - a formidable figure named Abu Bakr Al Ghoreyshi - made his entrance at the party. His eyes were partially shut, and their bloodshot appearance bore an unsettling resemblance to the color of wine. To everyone’s surprise, he brandished a sword that had long been displayed on the front wall of the room, serving as a mere decoration until now.”
grandma: “The crowed were seated in a circle when he sauntered into the center, brandishing the knife. The crowd recoiled as he twirled, showcasing the gleam of the blade’s tip. Each time he targeted the crowd with his weapon, they receded like a frightened wave, only to surge forward again when he turned his back.” My grandma took a deep breath then continued.
grandma: “Suddenly, he turned the knife towards Hesham’s brother. Hesham positioned himself in front of his brother, forming a protective barrier between his brother and the sword-man.”
grandma: “ahhhhhh, however, the moment he aimed at Hesham’s brother, His grip on the knife tighten, his arm pulling back slightly for a backswing. Instinctively, Hesham lunged forward to shield his brother, and then.....then......Hesham felt a sharp sting on his neck. He did his honor and his blood jumped like a small fountain from his neck. The crowed screamed and made the circle tighter to the drunk man. They wrested the knife away from the drunk man but it was so late. ”
My grandma vanished again. I felt the blade on my own neck. Then I went to sleep slowly.
