Code of Disjointed Letters: ( Doomsday Will Arise From the Past by JT Alblood Page B

cruelly now. “Whoever’s begging impresses me the least will not receive my blessing.”
    We were petrified when he left the lounge, the sound of his evil laughter trailing behind him.
    The competition night came in all its glory and, in our costumes, we all anxiously waited in the lounge.
    Announcements and reminders of important events from the last week were cast onto a giant screen. Good-luck messages from the people supporting us were scattered throughout the broadcast.
    There was no need for narration from the host or over-the-top music; the heat was already on. If it had been a competition of who was more anxious, I would already have won. Later, the host and the staff left us alone in the lounge. Dr. Feryal Özel sat with her arm around Ender while Hıdır, the cleric, sat alone quietly. I stood silently and waited.
    At the sound of the gong, everyone turned and looked at Fatin. He wandered around with confidence, drawing something on the floor and opening his hands slightly as esoteric words spilled from his lips. I saw again the thin gray smoke as it rose from his hands and grew larger, and then began to move over us ominously.
    Feryal and Ender took the cue and held up some device in their hands. The device buzzed, the sound increased, and a transparent wall formed by a spherical blue light wrapped around them. The thin gray smoke hit the wall and could only wrap around it. They were safe. For the first time, I saw anxiety in Fatin’s eyes.
    Suddenly, I was startled by his gaze. It was like that of a frightened, aggressive animal. The gray smoke was already headed in my direction, and I could hardly see the warlock through the smoke. Short of breath, I tried desperately to escape, but I couldn’t control my feet. I saw my hands change colors, turning dark as if I had a strange skin disease. I couldn’t hear anything but a roar and my eyesight quickly deteriorated. Fortunately, Hıdır appeared by my side. Thanks to his prayer and the focused movements of his hands, the smoke around me grew thinner, and I found a little strength to take a deep grateful breath.
    “I give you my prayer of protection,” Hıdır murmured.
    I nodded my head in gratitude. “But what can I give you?” I murmured, embarrassed and with a shaky voice.
    The cleric smiled. “Your gratitude is enough.”
    The spotlights rose, as did the music, and the host announced that Fatin was eliminated. The rest of us were relieved and exhausted.
    No one went to Fatin’s room as he was packing, but Fatin came to me. He placed his hand on my shoulder, and it felt like tarantula hairs touching my skin. Looking directly into my face with his bloodshot eyes, he spoke with a low wheezing that smelled of rotten eggs. “Idiot,” he said. ”Did you think I wouldn’t eliminate you? Did you believe your ridiculous ideas would save you?”
    I was about to say something, when he pressed me against the wall and closed my mouth with his other hand. “Shut up! I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to the one inside of you. You are only a piece of paper that I write the message on. You only deliver it.” As he was saying all this, his voice broke, accompanied by a shaky, wheezing sound. I suddenly felt nauseous and light-headed.
    He moved closer to my ear. “You’re the only connection I have outside of the system; that’s why you still exist. If they are by my side, I can win. And if I win, all the rules change. Eternity will no longer be torture.”
    Leaning against the wall with my eyes shut, I bent over and vomited. After wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I looked for him and through blurry vision saw him standing at the door.
    Fatin looked at me straight, and his eyes glowed red in the dark. “I’ve learned that you do no harm. That’s why I’m leaving.”
    He closed the door.
     
    Mansur Al-Hallaj
    The next day, I stayed in my room without talking to anyone and watched the faint light that leaked through my window. I had no strength