Silence prevailed. It was filling up the room. Nothing dared to stir except the clock that hung at the wall and uttered repetitive, irritating “ticks” and “tocks”. The water tap – letting occasional water drops fall down into the washbasin that now and then swung into a coordinated rhythm with the second hand of the clock. But else, nothing could be heard. She had silenced the TV long ago, the program had been horrible anyways. No snoring, no tapping feet of lone strangers longing for a destination out on the hallway. No disturbing storm clashing against the windows. Through them, Planet Salina with its beautiful atmospheric tempests visible as a single huge pearl lost in space, attitudinizing. Bluey light, reflected from the planet, fell into the room, illuminating some of the wooden parquet, looking like the silhouette of a figure that would slowly crawl up to the bed that was standing at the wall. The only thing perceivable was the sound of silence. To some it was unnerving, then again calming to others.
However, if one had listened closely, they would have heard a low breathing accompanying the other faint background noises. A person was lying in the bed of the room, wrapped in the white blanket as if she subconsciously tried to obscure her buried face. There she lay, outwardly enjoying this time of day quietly, charging her batteries for the next day that would surely be a stressful one. However, her muscles weren’t relaxed, quite the opposite, she was clearly tensing them, and the prominent veins on her arms became more and more visible. One couldn’t see it, but her facial play, hidden by the blanket, was speaking of anything but composure. The forehead she had slightly frowned, the mouth she had opened a little. Her cheeks were nearly glowing in a weak red, a quite funny contrast to the blue head of hair she was wearing, while the pair of eyes was dancing from the left to the right and back.
Her eyes were closed, yet on her inner eyelids Elena could see picture after picture flashing by. Some were too blurred to discern anything, some sharp enough to reveal every single detail to her. She wasn’t lying in her bed anymore, but instead stood upright suddenly, and found herself again at another place than the to her well-known apartment where she had laid to rest. The scenery around her was out of focus, as if with his thumb the artist had smudged the colors of the painting that unfolded before her eyes. An omnipresent green, in all its different coloristic variations, surrounded her, a distorted vision of trees and leaves and fruits, all blending into one another. Only one point she could perceive where the green would abruptly stop and without gradation in color merge into a dark void that was forming a silhouette of human proportions. It seemed weirdly two-dimensional, looking though it was merely a shadow, casted on a wall. A large figure it was, standing idle in front of her, seemingly watching her stonily. Soon after though, the silhouette began moving, and slowly, but surely patches of his outward appearance became visible. It was a man, clothed in a long, black coat that was feebly hanging down onto the ground, where the former flowers gradually got overgrown by excessive weed, as if nature reacted on the sudden appearance of the man. His face, as if it was a masquerade, unproportionally elongated, presented her with a smile that could only be called devilish. His eyes, without any motion, gave her a look that drilled their direct way into her soul. The soil crunched as the person steadily came closer, apparently minding every step and enjoying the sound of trampled plants beneath him. “Oh, Elena, I see you came back”, said her very own incarnation of Bassam Hussaini, having an overly big grin on his face. “What a very, very pleasant surprise that is indeed.” He opened his arms in an inviting gesture, making another large step towards her. “It’s been bugging me we couldn’t finish with what we have begun last time. There’s so much left between us that has yet been unspoken.”
Elena knew this scene far too well, as it for many days by now had occurred every time she had dared to close her eyes. And for all those days, it had always been the same procedure, always the exact same happenings, apparently a never ending cycle that had made a habit of intimidating her during the nights. Every time, she would see him before her, showing this obnoxious smile of his while telling her lies, only to suddenly snap with his finger and finish what he hadn’t been able to last time - letting her head explode into thousands of little pieces. The green scenery besprinkled with the spine-chilling, glutinous red paint. And that would end the misery, Elena would wake up in her bed again, gasping loudly and desperately longing for air. However this time, the whole story seemed to choose a new, different path.
Hussaini didn’t snap with his fingers, neither did he just let her head explode like she knew he could have. Instead, he was merely coming ever closer to her, throwing open his arms expansively though he was awkwardly going to embrace her. His smile grew toothier, similar to a wolf ready to kill its inferior victim. Not knowing where she was going, Elena began cautiously stepping backwards, eyeing her opponent carefully who would imitate what could be called a surprised face. Yet his facial features began to blur slightly. “Are you uncomfortable, Elena? Oh, please, don’t be!” He reached out with one of his cold hands, in an attempt to get hold of her hand. The root of a tree that winded its way out of the soil suddenly barred her retreat, but having no eyes in the back of her head, she couldn’t see and promptly stumbled over it. Falling backwards, waving her arms helplessly as she lost her balance, she instinctively closed her eyes, afraid of the severe jolt that was to follow. But it didn’t happen either.
It was more of a seemingly never ending falling, up until somebody suddenly grabbed her and pulled her up with force. As she opened her eyes again, the portrait of a man would come to light in front of her, equally tall like Hussaini, yet with completely different features. For once, the longer hair, then, the characteristically long beard with its virtually flowing hairs adorning his face, and the dark eyes staring at her while he was clasping her arm in his hand. “Don’t you fuc.king dare to fall now”, the voice belonging to Augustin pounded against her mind. “Meet it, head on.”
Staring at her cold-heartedly, he forcefully pulled her towards him in a jolt to get her back on her feet, though from one moment to the other Augustin disappeared as quickly as he had appeared, getting sucked into an appearing whirl of the green scenery, leaving no trail that would have hinted he had ever been here. With dilated eyes, Elena, who was still being in movement, tipped forwards further without control on her body and lost her balance once again as the earth beneath her weirdly began to shake. Tumbling over the grass for a few moments, crushing a number of flowers that had begun springing up like a rolling stone that had been set into motion, with her back she banged against a hard object in the end. A closer look at it would show that it was some sort of throne made out of stone she had crashed into, built in the center of a glade surrounded by smudged trees swaying in a light breeze. The rustling of the leaves accompanied the hiss of the air that passed by her ears. What would however cover up these background noises was silent, yet interminable giggling and tittering, filling the place with a person’s amusement. Still being dizzy as the world around her was still moving, she took a careful look at who was it to giggle and tittle, and was only halfly surprised to spot Hussaini again who was residing on the throne. What he held in hands and was absorbed by though was more interesting, it was an opened book, in fact quite a heavy tome with leathery binding.
He looked up and eyed Elena for a moment as she sat on the grass in front of him like a little child, then an almost fatherly, but still fake grin played around his dry lips. “Do you wish to hear a story?”, asked he with expectant tonality. Without a moment’s hesitation, she shook her head, trying to crawl backwards on the grass to separate her from the imposing figure before her. Yet, she couldn’t, her muscles weirdly felt strained like they had turned to barely movable stones, fixating her at her current position. Hussaini seemed to recognize her trying to move, and couldn’t stop giggling about it, though his twittering soon began drifting into a distorted, high-pitched version of it. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt”, he said, nodding at her to reaffirm his words to her. He would then start leafing through the ancient pages of the tome that was resting heavily on his thighs, from time to time licking his finger with the tongue as he turned over to the next page, until he let out an overly delighted “Hah!” when he found what he had been looking for. In the meantime, the noises in the background, the rushing leaves and the hissing wind were slowly, but surely dying out up to the point when absolute silence filled up the clearing. Silence that was abruptly killed off again as Hussaini’s voice piped up. “I would like to familiarize you with a certain story, Elena”, he said. “As told by William Somerset Maugham, 1933. ‘An Appointment In Samarra’ it’s called. Quite fitting if you ask me.”
After he had giggled followingly and had cleared his throat briefly, he would retell the story, his eyes quickly darting over the words on the paper, soaking them up in his mind. Elena would listen closely, though with a certain tremble in her body, and the blood pounded in her carotids. “There was once a merchant in Baghdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions, and in a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said: ‘Master, just now when I was in the marketplace I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture, now: Lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate - I will go to Samarra, and there Death will not find me.’” For a moment, Hussaini would cough, but would go on as if nothing had happened. “The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went. Then the merchant went down to the marketplace and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said: ‘Why did you make a threating gesture to my servant when you saw him this morning?’ – ‘That was not a threatening gesture’, I said. ‘It was only a start of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Baghdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.” He was stretching the last words to lay greater emphasis on them. The smile appeared again, not fatherly this time, but as treacherous as such could ever be. Folding his hands on his belly amusedly, he would keep staring at her, demanding a reaction most likely.
Her reaction – naturally – was moving backwards as quickly as she could, as the spell that had held her hostage now seemed to have been taken from her again, sliding on the grass. But then again, as if it was supposed to be a bad joke or something, something got in her way – again. Another human’s legs it were what she bounced against with her back, and an androgynous voice sounded that was heavily distorted, apparently by a voxmorpher. “Whoop, nope. Sorry, but you will stay here, Blueberry”, the person said, partially in surprise.
Getting a fright from the voice suddenly appearing out of nothing, Elena’s head shot around and caught sight of the person barring her escape path. Their eyes, concealed behind the black visor of their helmet, stared at her with a steadfast gaze as the person tilted their head slightly to the left. Their arms akimbo, they shook their head for a brief second. “Turn around again”, they ordered her with enduring voice, and so she did. Huddled, with her arms embracing her legs nestled on the belly, she sat on the grass, eyeing Hussaini with a reluctance you couldn’t help but notice. He, who had grown to become a pestering acquaintance of her over the last nights, stood up contentedly without a hint of rush, smoothing out his shirt while the ends of his coat fell down onto the ground with a faintly audible rustling. Cracking his stiff neck a few times and after that his knuckles, he ambled towards her with sweeping steps. One could perceive the familiar, silent giggling constructed by his mouth that formed a broad smile before he stopped to clear his throat. An over-the-top stereotypical coldness began embracing her, as thousands of little needles were sticking through her skin when he came closer, sending a shiver down her spine that would last several seconds long.
“I… honestly am not sure why you have chosen this outfit for me, I’m hating it guts. But I guess it’s the only way to get through to you”, Hussaini began, looking around at the scenery that slowly, but surely became sharper, with details of the leaves beginning to stand out from the blurry background. He then presumed to sigh loudly. “Possibly because you believe I pose a threat to yourself, your friends and what you are carrying with. Because, as a matter of fact, you are afraid of me, obviously.” As the tips of his feet were only a few mere centimeters away from hers, he kneeled down, all while carrying on with staring at her, and rested his elbows on his knees and folded his hands. Elena would have truly liked to get away again, but the incarnation of Vertiga kept blocking her way out of all this. “This place here?” He stopped for a second, reaching out with one arm to point at the scenery that had by now escaped the fuzziness, yet her eyes still had to get used to all the details that suddenly got presented to her. “Welcome to the vast landscapes of your mind then, if you haven’t guessed so already. Or rather, to this small glade here, limited by a bunch of treelines. It’s restricted, if you ask me.” He coughed, and put a hand before his mouth as if something had slipped he didn’t intend to say. “Excuse me, it’s not the point. We’re in your mind, Elena. I wouldn’t say it’s a safe haven, because – well, let’s not get into the judging now. But without a doubt, we both know under no circumstances can I actually be your beloved infectee from next-door.”
The fear inside her eventually began to vanish, yet another substance quickly filled the tub of her emotions: Bewilderment. This, what she would have thought to be just another variant of her recurring nightmare, seemed off enough to make her wonder what would be about to happen next. The trip had sprung, caught in a lucid dream she had been. And so far, a way to escape hadn’t opened itself to her yet. In fact though, her surroundings weirdly began flourishing again, similar to what they had been before the man who was striking fear into her heart had appeared, flowers were sprouting, weed withdrew again, and the meadow in its bright green got lightened by an appearing sun that shone over the treetop. It was all a little bizarre, after all it was still Hussaini standing in front of her, in all his dark clothes that built up an extreme contrast to the light scenery right behind him. His bowed figure casted a shadow over her huddled body.
The smirk on Hussaini’s – or was it Hussaini? – face grew wider, and he let out a small laugh. His facial play resembled anything but treachery to this point, far more was it almost a friendly grin she saw. One she knew far too well for her to like it. A cheerful one it was. “So finally, I can talk to you, from eye to eye”, her opponent said in an even playful tone. “Ironically, you’re afraid of nothing but yourself apparently. I’m nothing but your subconscious. What else should I be?” He began laughing again, soon it transformed into a hysterical, insatiable laugh as he obviously couldn’t restrain himself anymore. “Okay, listen up. You are me, and I am you. So, first. What was the point in telling you this, you wonder? A rhetorical question, I only pretend I don’t know if you wonder or not. You’ve had the pleasure of meeting Death, and now you try to get away with it. That’s not how it works, you can’t run. Death will find you in Samarra sooner or later, the only thing you can do is praying that it won’t happen soon, caused by your behavior. I’ve been threatening your life for quite some nights now, on a daily basis. But the truth is, you yourself are threatening yourself on a daily basis.”
The smirk grew wider as Hussaini straightened himself again, tapping off some dust from his coat while leaving Elena sitting on grassy ground, looking dumbfounded throughout, incredulously blinking with her eyelids as she soaked up what the person in front of her had just said. His posturing turned back to blazing arrogance, disparagingly, with his head lowered, looking down at her. Once again clearing his throat which briefly turned into a coughing fit, he turned his back on her, strolling back to the stony throne that was still anchored in the ground. Elena felt unable to move, not because she physically couldn’t, but because her own thoughts running through the her head kept her busy, she didn’t dare to move one centimeter. Vertiga behind her didn’t make a sound, acting like he wasn’t there.
Snappingly Hussaini turned around again, rotating on one foot to face her. It seemed weirdly energetic all of a sudden, yet his face, with severe features, only radiated noticeable annoyance. He rolled his eyes. “Killing time it is then. I’m murdering you, once again. Or I’m murdering myself. Or you’re murdering yourself. From whichever perspective you wish to examine it.” He stopped, and a very last smirk appeared on his lips. “See you next time.” Raising his arm, he prepared to perform the final snap that would soon sound inside the glade, echoing a few times and as a consequence sprinkling the grass in a delightful red. Gasping in shock, Elena shielded her face in reflex – not that it would have made any difference. In one second, the snap was finally audible.
And in the other, without having felt much of the pain, she found herself where she had started her voyage – in her bed. Salina still shone through the window built into her apartment, greeting her still blinkingly tired eyes. Her heart, for a minute, would still keep pounding heavily against her chest, yet slowly it returned to a more or less calm beat. With tussled hair, she gazed around herself, carefully checking if it was her real apartment as her preceding dream had left her discombobulated. It had been a dream different to all the other variants she had had over the last nights – and it would happen to strangely be the last one of its sort -, but for a second, she caught herself wishing the dream had never taken the path she had just seen. “…for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra” she whispered faintly before shaking her head, messing her hair up even more, and rolled to the other side of her bed. The rest of the night though, she wouldn’t find herself capable to sleep properly anymore. Brooding over it, she lay on her bed awake until alarm clock would ring, indicating a new day had begun.