Vision in Red by Sajjad Rasool - HTML preview

Vision in Red

Omar raised his hands. He made a gesture —a shape in the air. A box. He traced the outline of a square against his own chest.

Then he pointed at the watcher ’s chest. A direct accusation.

The tall watcher stopped. It tilted its head, a mockery of curiosity. Then it opened its mouth —that horizontal tear in reality —and let out a sound.

It wasn't a roar. It was a playback.

No... please...

It was Omar's voice.

The sound of it froze the room. It was tiny, terrified, the voice of a boy begging for mercy.

Please stopped... I'll do anything... don't...

The watcher played the stolen voice like a trophy, twisting the words, looping the fear. It was mocking him. Using his own plea against him.

Omar’s face crumpled. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He took a step back, his resolve breaking.

"No," Amal shouted. "Don't listen to it! That's not you! That's just an echo!"

She turned to Yasmin. "We have to help him! He can't fight it alone!"

"How? We can't see what he sees!"

"We don't need to see it! We need to hear him! Remember his name! Say it!"

Yasmin understood. She shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos of the room. "OMAR! OMAR AL-KHATIB!"

Amal joined in, screaming at the top of her lungs. "OMAR! ARTIST! SON! WITNESS!"

The other kids in the room, huddled under tables and behind chairs, looked up. They heard the names. They saw the boy standing alone against the monster.

"Omar!" one of them shouted. A girl with braids. "Omar!"

"Omar!" another boy joined in.

As more voices joined, the air in the room began to vibrate. But this time, it wasn't the dark hum of the watchers. It was a brighter, sharper frequency. The sound of human voices, raised in recognition.

Omar’s head snapped up. He heard them. He heard his name.

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