The Horror of the Marshes: A Cosmic Terror Tale of Ancient Secrets and Survival

The Horror of the Marshes

Welcome to the marshes of Al-Chibayish, where life drifts quietly, like a dream resting in the arms of nature. Here, no sound rises above the whisper of water, and time passes only under the watchful eyes of the sun and the wind. But, as they say, the most beautiful stories begin in silence and end in a storm.

It was a cold winter morning when the sun timidly crept into the sky, much like a small child taking her first steps. I took my mashoof, climbed aboard, carrying my spear and net, ready to seek my daily sustenance. The birds sang with bliss, as if welcoming the returning sun after a long night. As for me, I was at peace with this simple world, breathing air untainted by the burdens of cities.

When I reached the heart of the marsh, I cast my net into the water and waited with the patience of fishermen, my gaze fixed on the endless horizon. Suddenly, the stillness of the moment was broken by a noise behind me. I turned to see a herd of black buffalo wading through the water, their large heads pushing forward like mythical creatures from the old tales of the marshes. They passed by me and then moved on, settling in a distant pasture. Silence returned once more—but something on the horizon caught my attention.

Something white. It floated ahead of us as if trying to escape from a heavy secret.

Rizak was the first to notice.

“Look over there! Do you see what I see?”

We approached slowly, our hearts beating faster than the mashoof’s gentle movement. As we drew near, we realized the truth: a corpse.

Wrapped in a white shroud, heavy as if carrying the weight of the world with it. But what terrified us more were the chains. Thick iron chains wrapped tightly around it, with large locks fastening everything in place as if trying to prevent the corpse from breaking free—not just from the water, but from something deeper, something beyond our understanding.

Rizak knelt on the boat, trying to pull it in while I watched in silent fear. When we touched the corpse to lift it, we felt an unimaginable weight, as if it resisted us, as if it did not want to leave the water.

We placed the body on the boat’s surface, but our questions became heavier than the corpse itself.

“Who killed them? And why are they bound like this?” I asked Rizak, my voice barely escaping my throat.

Examining the white shroud, Rizak murmured,

“Look at these markings… red letters… and strange words.”

The Horror of the Marshes

I looked where he pointed and saw the symbols. I had never seen anything like them before—words that seemed to come from another world.

“We need to take it to Haji Hussein,” I said quickly, as if trying to escape the situation. But Razzaq didn’t move. His eyes were locked onto the corpse, as if it were a riddle he needed to solve.

Finally, we set off toward Haji Hussein’s house. His island was surrounded by old wooden fences, and his reed-built home loomed over us like a silent warning.

The old sheikh, Haji Hussein, emerged, leaning on his cane. When he saw us, his gaze fell upon the corpse, and his eyes widened in clear terror.

“What is this body?” he asked, his voice carrying an eerie tremor.

“We found it floating on the water, bound in these chains!” Razzaq quickly answered.

Haji Hussein approached cautiously, stroking his long beard with trembling fingers. “This is strange. I have never seen anything like this in my life.”

The three of us stared at the corpse again. The chains were thick, the locks massive, as if they had been crafted specifically to restrain something that should never be freed.

Razzaq, with a hesitant tone, asked, “What should we do, Sheikh?”

Haji Hussein’s voice carried unmistakable worry as he replied, “Put it back in the water. Do not meddle in things that do not concern you.”

But Razzaq wasn’t convinced. “What if this is someone’s body? We should inform the police.”

Will you follow the sheikh’s instructions? Or will you decide to unravel this strange mystery yourself? The answer might be heavier than the corpse itself… and far more dangerous.

I added to Razzaq’s words, my voice carrying an inexplicable weight, “You’re right… but imagine if this was someone we knew?”

Haji Hussein smiled, but it was not an ordinary smile. It was the kind that hid a thousand secrets behind it. His voice was unsettlingly calm as he said, “Even if it’s a corpse, what good is worrying? Their fate is sealed. But you both know very well… if the police come, they won’t leave anything as it is. They will turn the peace of this village into a storm that never ends.”

His words flowed smoothly, but they rang in my ears like an alarm bell. Something about what he said made me feel that this was deeper and more dangerous than it seemed.

You might be surprised by Haji Hussein’s words, but the truth is that our relationship with the government is like that of the dead with the living—we want no connection at all. Especially Haji Hussein, who harbors a deep hatred for the government since the Ba’athist regime. And as you know… some wounds are best left buried in the depths of oblivion.

Haji Hussein cut through my thoughts with a firm voice. “Take the body and return it to where you found it.”

Razzaq looked at him questioningly, suspicion flickering in his eyes, barely concealing his concern. “Do you think, Haji Hussein, that this is a case of honor killing?”

Haji Hussein stroked his beard lightly, leaned on his cane, and then spoke in a hushed voice, as if afraid the wind might carry his words away. “I don’t think so. But if it were an honor killing, why bind it with chains and iron locks?”

A heavy silence fell over us for long seconds. Razzaq looked at me, and I looked back at him, as if we were both waiting for an explanation to this mystery. But Haji Hussein gave us no time to think. He spoke quickly, as if to end the discussion.

“Go now before anyone sees you. And I don’t want to hear a word of this story from either of you… ever.”

We answered in unison:

“As you wish, Hajji Hussein.”

Razzak and I left the place and returned to the spot where we had found the body. With a quiet voice, Razzak pushed the corpse off the mashoof into the water and murmured:

“Indeed, we belong to Allah, and indeed to Him we shall return.”

Our task was complete, but worry never left Razzak’s face as he departed. As for me, I chose to distance myself from everything. I left for another spot, attempting to fish as the rising sun began to climb above my head. I thought the fear had ended here, but I didn’t know that what had happened was only the beginning of even greater horrors awaiting us in our village.

That evening, I sat outside my house, made of reeds, mud, and straw, on an old rug, watching the stars shining above me like lanterns in the darkness of the marshes. The croaking of frogs surrounded the place, filling the night with their tales. I smoked one cigarette after another, trying to kill the boredom that devoured me every moment.

But suddenly, the silence of the night was shattered by a loud noise coming from inside my house—a strong sound, as if something was breaking or moving violently. My blood froze in my veins.

This is impossible… I have lived alone for years.

My wife passed away three years ago, and I was never blessed with children. My entire life extinguished with her, and now here I am, living alone in this house—a man past fifty, drowning in a sorrow that never fades.

I stood up slowly, grabbed the fire lantern, and walked toward the wooden door with heavy steps. I could feel the sweat trickling down my skin, as if fear was seeping into me with every step.

I opened the door, and the sight before me made me tremble so violently that I dropped the lantern from my hands. The fire went out, and darkness took over.

I couldn’t believe what I saw in the abyss of the dark.

I cautiously opened my room’s door, torn between certainty and fear of what awaited me behind it. The moment my eyes fell upon the inside, I felt my heart stop for a brief moment.

There, in the middle of the room, lay a corpse wrapped in a white shroud, bound with heavy iron chains that echoed through the silence whenever I shivered.

I could do nothing but let the fire lantern slip from my fingers, the flame extinguishing between the dirt and terror. I stumbled backward, my voice trembling as I muttered:

“In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful… I seek refuge in Allah from the accursed devil.”

But what truly made my blood freeze was the moment the corpse moved. It moved! Right before my eyes! As if it had awakened from a long slumber.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, trying to rid myself of the terror that clung to me like an unshakable shadow. I staggered out of the house, running toward my small fishing mashoof tied near the riverbank. I jumped inside and began paddling frantically, leaving the door wide open and the fallen lantern lying on the ground like a silent witness to what I had seen.

Minutes later, I reached Razzak’s house. It was close enough to save me from drowning in the abyss of fear. I banged on his door violently, screaming:

“Razzak! Open the door, Razzak!”

Razzak appeared at the door, wearing his white dishdasha, his eyes half-closed from sleep. He asked in confusion:

“What’s the matter, Abu Haidar?”

Between my gasping breaths, I screamed:

“The corpse! The corpse is in my house!”

Razzak’s eyes widened, as if he had received a shock that jolted him into full awareness. Behind him, his wife and four children appeared. The eldest among them approached, asking anxiously:

“What’s happening, Father?”

But Razzak gestured firmly:

“Nothing. Stay here.”

We boarded the mashoof together as I struggled to catch my breath, reliving what I had seen. Razzak watched me with eyes filled with worry and doubt. He asked:

“How did the corpse return? Isn’t it the one we threw into the water?”

I nodded, confirming:

“Yes, but I found it in my bedroom… Razzak, I swear to God, it was moving.”

Razzak fell silent for a moment, as if trying to comprehend what he had just heard. When we reached my house, darkness blanketed the place, and the broken lantern lay on the ground, silently recounting my story.

We entered the room cautiously, Razzak gripping a reed stick he had picked up from the ground, as if preparing to face an unknown force.

The corpse was there, exactly as I had seen it before. This time, it didn’t move, but its strange scent still lingered in the air.

Razzak nudged the body with the stick carefully, muttering:

“In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful… I seek refuge in Allah from the accursed devil.”

I looked at him and said in a trembling voice:

“I told you… it moved. I saw it with my own eyes, Razzak.”

Razzak took a deep breath and then asked:

“How did this corpse get here? No one saw us when we threw it into the water, right?”

I answered him:

“No, no one saw us.”

We left the house, surrounded by questions with no answers. Razzaq stood at the door, gazing at the house with a look that carried a mix of caution and fear. He spoke in a low voice, but it was laden with mystery:

“Abu Haider, this isn’t normal… Something is happening here, and I don’t think it will end anytime soon.”

We left the house behind, but the feeling that something was watching us continued to haunt us, as if it were planning a more terrifying reappearance.

I could barely breathe, as if the air around me had grown heavy. I looked at Razzaq, who spoke anxiously:

“I swear to God, Razzaq, I wasn’t the one who brought the corpse here!”

Razzaq replied in a hushed yet tense voice:

“We need to go to Hajji Hussein and tell him everything.”

I hesitated for a moment before asking, “And what about the body? What do we do with it?”

He looked at me firmly. “We’ll bring it with us.”

Razzaq and I struggled to carry the corpse, and I couldn’t suppress my fear. For a moment, I imagined the body moving, and my heart nearly stopped. We carefully placed it in an old mashoof, and as we paddled toward the elder’s house, silence reigned, broken only by the sound of water splitting beneath our oars.

When we arrived, we left the body in the boat and approached the large wooden door. Razzaq knocked firmly, while my hands trembled despite my attempts to remain calm.

From inside the house, a deep and composed voice called out:

“Who is at the door?”

Razzaq answered, “It’s me, Razzaq, Hajji Hussein.”

After a brief pause, the reply came: “Open the door.”

Razzaq slowly pushed the door open, and we entered. The scent of incense filled the space, mingling with the aroma of aged wood. The elder sat on a simple bed made of woven reeds, leaning against the wall, a string of prayer beads slipping calmly through his fingers. Beside him was a basket of dates, and his old cane rested against the wall.

He slowly lifted his head toward us and spoke in a voice softer than usual, yet weighed with gravity:

“Forgive me, I cannot stand.”

Razzaq quickly responded, “No, Sheikh, we are the ones who should apologize for disturbing you. We came for something important.”

The elder nodded with a faint smile and gestured to the space before him. “Sit in front of me.”

We sat down, my unease growing with every glance at the elder’s face, which remained alert despite the years etched upon it. He offered us the basket of dates. “Go ahead, take some dates.”

We thanked him, and then Razzaq turned to him and said, “Hajji Hussein, Abu Haider will tell you the story.”

I stammered slightly before I began recounting everything—from the moment I threw the corpse into the water to the moment I found it lying on my bed. The elder listened in silence, but I couldn’t ignore the subtle shifts in his expression. It seemed like he was trying to hide his concern or surprise, yet his eyes betrayed a deeper understanding.

When I finished, the elder stared at me in silence for a long moment. His expression was unreadable. Then, in a voice that cut through the silence, he asked:

“And where is it now?”

“We left it in the mashoof outside the guesthouse,” Razzaq answered quietly, though his voice carried something beyond mere words.

“Good. Bring the body inside and leave it in the guesthouse,” the elder ordered with an unwavering tone that left no room for debate.

Razzaq and I stepped out, carrying the body that felt heavier with each step. The muddy path clung to our feet, and the silence trailed us like a shadow. We reached the guesthouse—a large structure made of yellow reeds, exuding the scent of incense, as if it had witnessed untold secrets.

Inside, old weapons hung on the walls like silent sentinels. In the center, gleaming tea and coffee pots rested on a low wooden stove, their surfaces catching the dim light.

We placed the body in a corner of the guesthouse. Just then, the elder entered, leaning on his cane, his hunched frame carrying both wisdom and an unspoken horror.

“In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful,” he murmured, his gaze settling on the corpse with an unreadable depth.

Razzaq asked anxiously, “What will you do with it?”

The elder replied with an eerie certainty, “Tomorrow morning, I want you and Abu Haider to bring me Abu Raad.”

The words froze in my throat. I blurted out, “Abu Raad? You don’t mean that madman from our village?!”

The old man smiled, his features brimming with cunning:

“Sometimes, madmen know more than we do.”

We left the guesthouse, but the old man’s words lingered, haunting me like dark shadows.

Night had settled into an ominous silence by the time we arrived at Razzaq’s house. An inexplicable terror gripped me—a mix of fear from leaving the corpse behind and a deeper, more sinister dread that awaited me on my way home.

When I finally reached my house, I lit the oil lamp and placed it near my bed. My eyes wandered around the room, searching for something unknown, as if the very walls concealed a lurking secret. Drowsiness crept over me, and despite the unsettling feeling that I was not alone, I surrendered to sleep.

In the middle of the night, a strange sound woke me. It was faint yet filled with an eerie mystery, like something shifting within the room.

A heavy presence pinned me in place, as if the entire room was closing in around me. I tried to steady my breath, but the sensation of not being alone grew stronger.

There... in the corner of the room... something was there.

Something unseen, yet felt.

I forced my weary eyes open, struggling to gather my thoughts in the surrounding darkness. The shadows pressed in, thick and suffocating. I turned toward the bedside lamp—extinguished. A chill ran down my spine. I had filled the oil tank before sleeping, planning to put it out myself in the morning. What had happened?

Then, from the farthest corner of the room, I heard it again.

A sound.

“Who’s there?”

Silence. A heavy, unnatural silence that seemed to pulse with something unseen. A creeping dread seeped into my bones, making every breath feel like a struggle.

Something was near.

Something stood at the edge of my bed—so close, its presence grazed my fingertips.

“In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful. I seek refuge in Allah from the accursed devil.”

I began reciting Quranic verses aloud, clinging to the only thread of sanity I had left. But then—suddenly—a long, clawed hand emerged from the darkness beside my bed.

Sheer terror crashed over me.

I stammered, barely able to think, before a bald head slowly pushed through the shadows. Strands of long, tangled hair slithered into view. Then, two yellow eyes fixed on me, piercing through my soul with a gaze that drained the breath from my lungs.

I screamed. My heart nearly stopped.

And then—

I woke up.

A nightmare.

Just a nightmare.

I gasped for air, my chest heaving as I stared at the oil lamp, which was once again burning, casting warm light across the room. Relief washed over me, but the feeling that something was amiss lingered.

Then—

A knock at my door.

Not an ordinary knock.

It was loud, relentless, as if someone were pounding with both fists.

“Who’s there?”

Silence. A dreadful silence.

I swallowed hard, my body trembling with unease. What was happening? And why at this ungodly hour?

The knocking resumed, violent and insistent. Each step I took toward the door echoed my hammering heartbeat. Every step dragged me closer to something I did not wish to face.

As I stood before the threshold, something caught my eye—

Dead birds.

At least twenty crows, scattered at my doorstep.

How had they gotten there? They couldn’t have flown from the nearby swamps. They didn’t belong in this place.

But the real question was—who had placed them here? And why?

I shut the door quietly, then dove onto my bed, pulling the blanket over my body as if it could shield me from the creeping horror. My pulse pounded violently. I couldn’t bear to lift my head. Fear consumed me. The darkness only made it worse.

I struggled to breathe, my eyes darting frantically across the walls, terrified of seeing something I was not prepared to face.

The sun began to rise, its light weak and sickly, as if it, too, feared what it might reveal.

Of course, I hadn’t slept all night. My mind had been a whirlwind of dark thoughts, circling like ravenous beasts, toying with me the way predators toy with their prey.

That morning, I made a decision.

I would go fishing.

Maybe if I returned to my old routine—casting lines, sitting under the night sky, smoking cigarettes—I could finally escape these nightmares.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

It all started with that cursed corpse.

From the moment it surfaced in the water, my life had become a relentless cycle of nightmares. And no matter how far I tried to run, it lurked in the shadows, always watching.

And perhaps now, you are wondering—

Is the horror over?

Have the nightmares finally ended?

The answer is simple.

Of course not.

Listen carefully… Do you know what happened to me when I finally decided to go fishing? I wish I hadn’t! What followed was something I never expected… and trust me, you can’t imagine what was waiting for me.

The water awoke with a calmness only skilled fishermen could sense.

It was six in the morning, and the sun was still touching the distant horizon. A small village lay asleep on a bed of tranquility—except for me. As I told you, I couldn’t sleep.

I gathered my usual gear—the spear and the white net—and made my way to the boat, barely big enough for two people. Birds soared above my head, and the cold air slapped my cheeks as if punishing me.

But everything at that moment felt perfect, as if I were about to experience a beautiful day—until something strange happened.

I stopped rowing and cast my white net a short distance away. Then came that unforgettable sound—the metallic click of a small tin opening, the flicker of a lighter illuminating the space, and the cigarette’s flame dancing in the cold air.

I closed my eyes for a few brief seconds, trying to silence my thoughts, but suddenly… the boat moved!

I didn’t know why or what had caused it to shift—perhaps one of those large sea turtles that occasionally bumped into boats.

But then…

Another violent shake!

Time froze in my throat. Had I misinterpreted what was happening? Turtles don’t move boats with such force!

I exhaled the smoke from my cigarette, trying to steady my nerves, but as I looked around me, I saw something unimaginable.

Human faces beneath the water!

I screamed from the depths of my soul. My voice escaped without my control, filling me with indescribable terror. What had I just seen? Were they demons? Or something else?

I don’t know how my heart endured this fear over the past few days.

“In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful… I seek refuge in Allah from the evil of the accursed Satan.”

I muttered the verses under my breath, trying to calm myself, but something felt off… something I still don’t understand. And as I struggled to gather my courage to look around once more, a sudden voice startled me:

“Good morning, Abu Haidar.”

It was Razzaq, approaching my boat swiftly. He called out, “Do you see something in the water?”

I looked into his eyes, the questions written all over his face. I couldn’t hide my distress and told him, “I saw human faces in the water.”

He smiled. “You’re acting strangely. Did you sleep well?”

But his demeanor changed when I told him what I had seen.

“That’s strange… the same thing happened to me!” he said, his voice laced with tension.

Had we truly seen something real? Or was it all in our imagination?

I straightened up and looked Razzaq in the eyes. “Really?”

He nodded solemnly, his fear evident. “By God, yes. Last night, someone was pounding on my door with force. My son, Jassim, opened it, but no one was there. And my wife… she kept saying she heard breathing close to her head while we were sleeping!”

A shiver ran down my spine. Something breathing near your head while you sleep… what a living nightmare!

Razzaq suddenly broke the silence as if he had just remembered something important.

“When are we going to Abu Ra’ad’s house?”

I recalled Haj Hussein’s words from the night before—he had said we needed to bring Abu Ra’ad to him.

I answered, trying to sound firm, “At noon. We’ll take Abu Ra’ad and go to Haj Hussein.”

At that moment, I decided to stop fishing. Eating at Razzaq’s house felt like a safer choice.

You might laugh at me if you were in my place. Maybe you’d call me a coward for being afraid to return to my own home, but honestly, I no longer care what anyone thinks.

I’m an old man, after all, and at any moment, God may take His trust back. I don’t want to spend my remaining days in fear, haunted by nightmares.

At noon, Razzaq and I set off toward Abu Ra’ad’s house. The journey felt like fleeing from one nightmare… into another waiting ahead.

By midday, the cold winds screamed through the marshes, biting at our faces with sharp cruelty. Yet, there was a strange warmth radiating from the sunlight, as if it were defying the chill.

Razzaq and I rowed away from the villages and houses. Our destination was clear: the house of Abu Ra’ad, the mysterious man who lived alone, far from everything and everyone.

His house was surrounded by tall walls of yellow reeds, concealing everything behind them—swallowing secrets that could never be unveiled.

Abu Ra’d… a man obsessed with superstitions and ancient legends. A recluse, rarely mingling with people, and most who know him either fear him or keep their distance. Even animals seem to sense something we do not. The buffalo that graze fearlessly across the marshlands never approach his home. Even the birds, which usually hover over every house in the region, avoid the sky above his dwelling, as if recoiling from something unseen.

When we arrived at the house, the air was thick with something strange. The paths felt quieter, the atmosphere heavier than it should be. Razzaq knocked on the door several times, his voice echoing through the empty surroundings:

“Abu Ra’d! Abu Ra’d!”

But there was no answer. The look in Razzaq’s eyes was filled with questions. “What do we do now?” he asked me. Before I could reply, the wooden door suddenly creaked open with a long, agonized groan, as if groaning under the weight of time. But the strange part… there was no one behind it.

I glanced at Razzaq, who looked even more uneasy, but he hesitantly said, “Let’s go in. Maybe something happened to him.”

Crossing the threshold, we stepped inside, and everything felt off. The room was unsettlingly tidy: to our right, a simple bed; to our left, an old rug carefully laid out, with yellowed brass pitchers on top and a small incense burner emitting a heavy, suffocating scent.

But what caught our attention was the statue.

Directly in front of us, a large wooden statue sat like a ruler on a throne. It resembled a seated human, but its head was that of a goat. Its size and eerie presence dominated the entire room, as if it were the sole master of this place.

Beside the incense burner were old books with yellowed, brittle pages, as if they belonged to a long-lost era. I tried reading some of the words, but they were nearly erased by time. Even the ink looked as though it had dried centuries ago.

Razzaq stood beside me, staring at the statue with unease. In a low voice, he asked, “What is this thing, Abu Haidar?”

I hesitated for a moment before whispering, “I don’t know.”

But the truth was, that answer wasn’t enough for either of us. The place was brimming with secrets beyond comprehension. And Abu Ra’d… where was he? Why had he left the door open?

Inside that gloomy house, the air reeked of something foul—a mix of dampness and decay, creating a suffocating heaviness. I lifted my gaze toward the darkened ceiling and saw dead birds hanging by thick cobwebs. Some were still twitching faintly, as if in their final moments, their colors and shapes unnatural. But what sent a true chill down my spine was the presence of birds I didn’t recognize—creatures that didn’t belong to the marshlands or any place I knew.

Where had this man found these birds?

Suddenly, a hoarse, unnatural voice shattered the silence behind us, carrying a chill that crawled into my bones. Razzaq and I turned slowly—only to come face to face with a living nightmare.

A towering figure stood there, easily over two meters tall. His long, jet-black hair cascaded over his shoulders like a curtain of darkness, and his face was so grotesquely deformed that it could strike fear into the bravest of men. He wore a dirt-stained white dishdasha, smeared with dark, dried stains that resembled old blood.

The man stepped inside with heavy, deliberate steps, as if the earth itself groaned beneath his weight. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice laced with hostility, as if he wanted to drive us out before we could even speak.

Razzaq, his voice hesitant, managed to say, “Sheikh Hussein wants to see you… it’s urgent.”

Abu Ra’d watched us with bulging eyes as he reached out to close an ancient book on the table. Then, without turning to face us, he said, “And what does Sheikh Hussein want?”

Razzaq took a deep breath and answered, “We found a body in the water…”

At that, Abu Ra’d snapped his head toward us with alarming speed, his gaze like knives piercing our souls. “A body? How?” he demanded, his voice carrying a dreadful intensity.

Razzaq hesitated before continuing, speaking in a hushed tone as if afraid the house itself might hear:

“It was wrapped in a white shroud… bound in heavy chains… sealed with seven locks.”

The moment Abu Ra’d heard those words, he let out a bone-chilling scream—one so powerful it felt as though the ceiling might collapse over our heads. My blood turned to ice as the man, his face twisted in terror, cried out:

“You have brought disaster upon us… We must go to the Sheikh’s house immediately!”

He bolted toward the door, and we scrambled to follow. But Razzaq, unable to suppress his curiosity, asked, “Why? What danger?”

Abu Ra’d suddenly stopped and turned to face us. His expression was darker than the night itself.

“Sheikh Hussein is in grave danger… a danger beyond anything you can imagine.”

I stepped forward with heavy, hesitant footsteps toward what looked like an altar. And there… she lay on a mysterious tomb.

A pale crystal hanging from the ceiling cast an eerie glow over her body, its icy white hue reflecting against her strange, tattooed skin. Her markings stretched from her neck to her feet, and in each of her hands, six fingers.

But the most horrifying detail was on her chest. There, two human faces floated—one of a hideous woman, and the other of a man whose face was even more grotesque than hers.

Her lips were black as ash. Her closed eyes held a secret I couldn’t comprehend.

Then, suddenly—she opened them.

I gasped, choking on pure terror as her mouth parted in a scream—a sound so unnatural it felt as though it was tearing into my very soul.

The next thing I knew, I was somewhere else entirely.

I awoke in a strange place, a man standing beside me. My blurry vision focused on him—it was a marshland dweller. His name was Jassim.

Jassim twirled his mustache as he spoke. “Are you alright?”

My voice came out ragged. “Where am I?”

“In my house. Abu Ra’d told me what happened.”

But then, something crucial struck me.

“Razzaq!” I blurted.

Jassim cut me off. “Razzaq is fine. We sent Abu Ahmed to him.”

Abu Ahmed… the only doctor in the marshlands. He had served in the Iraqi army during the U.S. invasion in 2003.

A sharp pain throbbed in my skull, as if my mind was being ripped apart from the inside. I tried to rise, but my body betrayed me.

Then Jassim’s voice suddenly changed.

“Why did you kill Sheikh Hussein?”

I stared at him, my breath catching. “What?”

“You and your friends… you killed Sheikh Hussein.”

“No… Impossible… No… No!”

“We called the police. They’ll be here tomorrow. And they’ll punish all of you… you, Razzaq, and Abu Ra’d.”

I swallowed hard, my mind spinning.

“Jassim… you…?”

“Shut up, you murderer!” he shouted at me, his tone shifting from calm to uncontrollable rage. He suddenly rose from beside my bed and stormed out of the house. As he left, I heard his voice speaking to someone outside:

“Watch him closely. If he tries to escape, strike him.”

At that moment, a wave of despair consumed me. Grief devoured me from within. Sheikh Hussein was dead—how would we convince everyone of what had happened?

In the stillness of the night, a strange noise echoed in my ears… an unfamiliar disturbance, like distant screams or a fight. I couldn’t quite tell. But my heart began to pound, its drumbeats resounding in my chest.

I rose slowly from my bed, dizziness overwhelming me. My legs felt too weak to carry me. I staggered toward the wooden door, pushed it open slightly, and peeked outside. But there was nothing—only silence, despite the lingering echoes in my ears.

How had those sounds vanished?

I pushed the door wide open, trying to find the source of the noise that still haunted my mind. Barefoot, I stepped into the darkness, glancing around… No one was there. No guards, no light—nothing but an eerie stillness, a silence that felt like a nightmare, and a dread that nestled deep within my heart.

Then, suddenly, something moved in the darkness.

At first, it looked like tiny distant lights. I moved closer, my pulse racing. With each step, I drew nearer.

And then, at the edge of the wall surrounding the house, I saw a sight my eyes refused to believe.

A corpse—floating in midair!

Yes, floating, as if suspended between sky and earth, not lying down but standing upright as though on the verge of movement. But what surrounded it was even more terrifying: other bodies, some familiar, some not. Where had they come from? Where had these dead spirits emerged from? They drifted in the air, as if performing a macabre dance of death.

Then, in an instant too brief to grasp, those eyes… glowing yellow eyes, radiating from within white shrouds. They shimmered in the dark like burning lanterns.

Before I could process what I was seeing, a horrifying scream tore through the silence.

I ran back inside, whispering verses from the Quran, trying to suppress the terror creeping into every bone in my body. I heard them approaching—footsteps echoing in my ears, growing closer and closer.

The door was open now, as if an invisible force had pushed me toward it.

And then they entered.

The crows.

Yes, crows. They flooded into the room, swirling around me. They entered uninvited, accompanied by the dead, their piercing eyes fixed upon me—cold as ice. At that moment, I knew I wasn’t facing something ordinary.

I was kneeling on the room’s prayer rug, surrounded. Their footsteps drew nearer, and I could feel them. Each step deepened my fear, my heart hammering as if it would burst.

And when I lifted my gaze, I saw her.

She stood before me, her yellow eyes glowing—alive, like flames flickering in the dark.

Those eyes… unlike any I had ever seen. Within them, I saw the universe itself—time, death, life—all entwined in their depths.

And as I looked into them, I felt something strange.

I felt… free.

Free from everything—fear, time, every chain that had ever bound me.

There was only her.

A deep peace enveloped me, filling every inch of my being. It was as if I had become one with the cosmos itself. My soul, my mind, my body—everything had surrendered in a moment I never expected.

Then came the light…

A mysterious golden glow, bathing everything around me, illuminating the darkness in a way beyond explanation. It was as if I was being led to my fate, surrendering without resistance.

Peace. Serenity. Perfection.

But had I truly been freed?

I wondered in that moment, as time itself seemed to halt.

A mysterious woman stood in the distance, watching me in silence.

Then, suddenly, a strange sensation crept into me—something I could neither stop nor understand. It was a deep feeling, as if I had crossed into another world, one I could never escape from.

I looked at my hands.

My fingers had fused unnaturally. My body had changed—no longer human.

How could I bear this? I asked myself.

There was no pain, only an unsettling awareness that I had become part of something greater, an invisible force controlling me. Then, out of nowhere, whispers filled the air—soft exhales, voices speaking of things I could not yet comprehend.

As I moved, I saw the creatures around me change too. Giant fins emerged from our bodies, and our eyes glowed eerily in the darkness. Every breath I took felt heavy, as though I were inhaling water—water from an unknown realm.

Had we been freed, or were we trapped in this fate forever?

I wondered again. But there was no answer.

At that moment, I knew I had become part of something much larger, something far more merciless than anything I had ever known.

Then came the sight I could never forget…

I found him.

Abu Ra’d.

Hanging in his room.

His eyes were wide open in an unnatural way. His skin pale, as if he had seen something his mind could not bear.

I could not believe what I was seeing.

Why did I tell you this story? Did I want you to believe me? Maybe. But the truth is, I wasn’t looking for an answer. All I wanted was to leave you in this void, questioning yourself about what really happened and whether this world we live in… is truly what it seems.

But remember, if you ever see something strange— a creature emerging from the water… don’t approach, don’t touch. Just ignore it and let it remain in the darkness. Because if you don’t… the end will be something you never expected.