Vision in Red by Sajjad Rasool - HTML preview

Children of Olive

"And the records?"

"They are still there. In Jerusalem. In the basement of the old Municipal Building. The Israelis took them, of course. Locked them away. Classified them as 'Abandoned Property.' But they didn't destroy them."

"Why not?" Amal asked. "If they want to erase us..."

"Because they believe in paper too," Huda said with a grim smile. "They believe that if they own the paper, they own the land. They keep the deeds, the maps, the tax records. They count them. They catalog them. They think it proves they are the masters."

She laughed, a harsh, rattling sound.

"But they don't understand the rules. They don't understand that ink is blood that has dried. And as long as the ink exists... the memory exists. The Watchers cannot eat ink. They can eat the voice, they can eat the shadow, but they cannot eat the written word. It burns them."

Amal looked at the key. "So we go to the Archive. We find the records of Bayt al-Rih. And then?"

"Then we read them," Huda said. "We read them aloud. We bring the names back into the air. We summon the Was back into the Is."

"Resurrection," Yasmin whispered.

"Restoration," Huda corrected. "But be warned. The Archive is not empty. The Watchers know the danger of the paper. They guard it."

"Soldiers?"

"Worse. The Silent Ones. The Librarians of the Void. They stand in the aisles, waiting for someone to open a book."

Huda pushed the key across the table. It made a scraping sound that set Amal's teeth on edge.

"Take it. It will guide you. When you are close to the truth, the thread will grow warm. When you are in danger, it will grow cold."

Amal picked up the key. It was warm —almost hot—against her palm. She slipped it into her pocket.

"Thank you, Auntie," she said.

Huda didn't answer. She was staring at the covered mirror again. "Go now," she whispered. "Before the sun sets completely. The shadows in the camp... they are getting longer."

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