Note: This short story is an adaptation of a script of the same name by the self titled genius, Ayman Hamzaki, a good friend. You should go visit his amazing blog https://cinephilecritique.wordpress.com/ to read reviews on the best movies.
Thank you, Ayman.
CHAPTER 1
He saw, through the black of the night, two shadowy figures facing each other. They seemed to be absorbed in a serious conversation. He hid behind a bush and listened hard, trying to decipher what was going on. What was so important that these two had to meet in the middle of the night? This went on for a minute or so before out of nowhere, one held out something shiny that glistened in the dark – a knife, and stabbed the other right in the heart. The body fell to the ground and the murderer quickly looked around in lingering desperation and fear, and ran away, disappearing in the night.
He then finally came out from his hiding place and ran towards the body. It laid there on the cold, hard ground. Motionless. Still. Lifeless. A runnel of blood runs from it. The metallic smell still fresh, filling the air. He bent down, turned it around and a shiver ran down his spine. What had he done?
CHAPTER 2
Johnny remembered it all too well, he wished he didn’t. That fateful day when desperation drove him mad, when desperation drove him over the edge. He had gone to an address a friend gave him and as he stood there outside, knocking on the door, he felt his stomach flip. He was willing to give up his watch. What was he supposed to do? He was in dire need of money and money didn’t come easy. The door opened and a burly looking man appeared. He looked around forty, double his age. He stepped in and showed him the watch. After much enquiry, the burly man said the watch was worth two thousand rupees. Two thousand rupees? Johnny had paid double the price when he bought it just a few months back. He argued that he be paid more, but the man wasn’t willing to give in and took out two thousand rupee notes from his wallet. “Take it or leave it”, he had said. But he asked for five hundred rupees more, his watch was worth more than his current offer. Then the man was angered by this young man’s stubbornness and pushed him out of the house. Just as he was about to shut the door close, a foot appeared and jammed it. Johnny wasn’t ready to give up just yet. He then pushed the door open and asked, this time with anger and a new found boldness, to increase the price. The man hesitated still, and suddenly, he felt strong hands gripping his neck. He couldn’t breathe, he was choking. The hands wouldn’t let go, their grip only became harder. He staggered a bit, and he could feel his eyelids slowly shutting, consciousness slipping away. Then, nothing.
It was already too late when the young man realized what he had done. It’s always too late. Fear came over him when he saw the dead man lying still on the floor. He had killed him. He had taken a life. He saw the wallet lying near the body and out of despair, snatched it and ran out of the house, never looking back.
CHAPTER 3
Yohann was strolling in the park, camera in hand. Today, he decided that he would take pictures of this burly looking guy. After taking a few snaps, he followed him to his house so that he could deliver the pictures once they’re printed. Then, he went to the printing shop nearby, and wrote down his number on an envelope for the photos to be kept in once they were printed. He left the shop and headed home.
He opened the door to the bedroom and saw that his partner was already home. “Johnny,” he said, “You’ll never guess what happened today.” Johnny was facing the other side, his eyes fixed on the wall. He didn’t turn back. Yohann continued. “The pictures I took today were amazing, they”. Then Johnny cut him off. “Amazing? Then why don’t you get paid for them? I’m trying so hard to make money and all you do is click pictures of random people. Do you not understand how worried I am?” Silence. Yohann remained quiet. Then after a while, he whispered softly, “I love you”. Three words he hoped would fix everything.
CHAPTER 4
Zoya had had a long day. She entered her house and saw her father sitting on the couch, reading the paper. She asked if she could have some money, but somewhere in some dark corner of her mind, she already knew the answer to that. Then, wham! A slap right across her pretty face. She was prepared for it. “Go earn some yourself,” he had said. Then, he dragged her to her room and just as he was about to lock her from outside, the doorbell rang. He shut the door, and went to open the main door. “Stay here,” he had said. Zoya’s face remained like a stone. No tears, no frowns, no nothing. Ten years of abuse could do that to you.
The father opened the door and a nervous looking young man appeared. He said he wanted to sell him his watch.
CHAPTER 5
Yohann walked out of the printing shop, satisfied with his pictures. As he was walking towards the house of the man in the pictures, he thought about Johnny. He thought about how, even after five years, he still loved him all the same. He thought about how he would do anything for him, for their relationship. He then reached the house, envelope in hand, ready to hand over the pictures, when he saw Johnny running out of the house, colour draining from his face. Johnny? What was he doing here? He decided that he would enter the house and enquire. Johnny didn’t see him anyway.
He walked up to the door and knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. He pushed open the door, it wasn’t locked. And there, he saw the man lying dead on the ground. Just then, a girl, perhaps his daughter, came out from another room and seeing her father’s dead body with Yohann standing beside it, one can guess what conclusion she came to. Horror, shock and anger became her face. “I didn’t do it. I can explain,” Yohann stammered. Then the girl came and attacked him. She was fierce. Not knowing what to do, he took the kitchen knife on the table nearby and stabbed her on her left thigh. The girl screamed, and he ran out, fear pushing his legs faster than ever.
CHAPTER 6
Yohann lied awake in bed that night. As he looked at Johnny sleeping next to him, his chest rising and falling, he wondered how he could have done such a thing and still sleep so peacefully. He wondered if Johnny was the same person he was five years back, or perhaps, he didn’t know him at all. He had not told him about what happened earlier, neither did Johnny. Just then, he heard his phone ring. An unknown number. He picked it up.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“You killed my father,” a voice replied.
“No. No. I didn’t. I just saw who did it. How did you get my number?”
“You left the envelope with the pictures. If you want to explain yourself, come meet me at this address.”
He took down the address on a piece of paper, got dressed and left the room. The door banged loudly, waking Johnny up. “Yohann?”
Yohann reached the address and saw the girl, Zoya standing in the dark. He walked up to her and started to explain himself when out of nowhere, she took out a knife and stabbed him right in the heart. “I saw you. I know it was you. He was my father. He may not have treated me like a daughter, but he was my father.” Yohann fell to the gound, a runnel of blood running from his body. Then the girl looked around, turned and ran.
Johnny came out from behind the bush he was hiding. He had followed Yohann, wanting to know why he left in the middle of the night. He was trying to listen to their conversation when suddenly, Yohann fell and the other ran. It all happened so fast, he couldn’t register what was happening at first.
As he sat there, beside the lifeless body of Yohann, he could do nothing but cry. He wished he could fix it, but it was too late. It was always too late. What had he done?
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