Village

In 2025,

in an old but well-maintained house. Time had left its mark on it, but it was clear someone cared for it. A beautiful and spacious house, big enough to fit three families. Though almost abandoned, it was still full of life. Plants and trees surrounded it, and not too far from it sat a man on a wooden chair. His face bore the marks of time, yet he looked like he was in his late twenties.

The sky today was beautiful—black, like my life.

He sat there thinking. His name? Basim. A man whose parents had died in a car accident when he was just 16. Afterward, his grandfather on his mother's side took him in.

And guess what? His grandfather passed away two years ago. Now, here he was, sitting on the same wooden chair his grandfather used to sit in.

He had fulfilled his grandfather's will—to take care of this house every Friday. You might wonder why there were no animals at his grandfather's house.

Well, he sold them all. From chickens to sheep. Though he felt guilty, he did what he could. For two years, he took care of this cursed house. Every Friday, he left everything else in his life to come here and clean a house that somehow always ended up dirty again. He was sick of traveling to this place in the middle of nowhere. A nearly abandoned village in the southern region of Saudi Arabia, while he lived in the east.

He sighed, then gave a bitter smile. "I'm sorry, Grandpa, but I'm tired. May God have mercy on you."

He stood up from the chair and went inside the house. He made sure everything was perfect because today was goodbye. He stood at the door, ready to leave. He turned around for one last look, but suddenly, he felt the call of nature. Turning back, he headed to the bathroom, opened the door, and walked in. He locked the door, relieved himself, and washed his hands at the sink.

As he looked in the mirror, he saw a man with black eyes, a sharp nose, and defined eyebrows. His black, silky hair reached past his ears. His skin was pale with a slight tan, and he had faint stubble and a mustache. Dark circles under his eyes revealed his exhaustion.

"I'm not narcissistic," he thought, "but I won't deny I'm handsome." He placed a hand on his cheek. "It's a shame half my life was wasted moving from one place to another."

I washed up and turned to leave, but I noticed the bathroom door was open. Weird? I was sure I'd locked it. Anyway, I locked it again and headed to the front door. I stepped outside and started walking through the village. That's when I saw Sheikh Abdullah.

"Peace be upon you," I said.

"And peace be upon you too," he replied, but he seemed a little nervous.

"Bassem, why are you leaving now? Do you need something from me?"

"No, honestly, I just came to say goodbye. I'm heading out now," I said casually.

"You're leaving already? What about your grandfather's will?" For the first time, Sheikh Abdullah sounded serious with me.

I decided to tell him the truth. "Look, Sheikh Abdullah, I'm tired. Every Friday, for two years, I've been traveling back and forth just to take care of this place. I've done what I could. I just want to rest. I couldn't even think about marriage because of how busy I've been."

He paused for a moment, and I noticed he seemed… uneasy. "Okay, but is there anyone else, like one of your uncles, who could take over the will?"

I laughed bitterly. "Come on, Sheikh. We both know my uncles won't do it. From the moment my grandfather took me in, I knew I couldn't rely on them. They even took my father's inheritance."

The Sheikh went quiet for a moment. Then he sighed. "Bassem, at least stay for tonight. Wait until dawn. You shouldn't leave during the night."

"I can't, Sheikh. You know I've never been able to stay in that house for more than four hours. And there's no signal here. How do you even manage to live here?" I said, frustrated. "Let's just leave together."

He looked at me, almost defeated. "So, you're really not staying?" he asked.

"No chance," I replied.

The Sheikh seemed to give up. "Alright, follow me. I need your help with something."

I followed him as he walked behind his house. There was this small hole in the ground, like a rabbit's burrow, but it was covered with a brown cloth. The Sheikh pulled the cloth aside and reached in. What he pulled out left me speechless—a dagger. It was silver, shining so brightly it looked like it had never been touched by dirt.

My eyes widened in shock at how majestic it looked. The first thing I asked was, "How much is this thing worth?"

The Sheikh just stared at me.

"Okay, never mind," I said, trying to cover up my awkwardness.

He handed me the dagger. I held it, still staring at it. Then he said, "Keep this with you. You might need it."

I frowned. "Why would I need this? Nothing's going to happen to me. I've been through here a million times. I know the way."

He gave me a cryptic look and said, "You'll need it."

"Sheikh Abdullah, I appreciate it, but this is too much. Just give me a kitchen knife or something."

He didn't reply. He just turned around and went back into his house, closing the door behind him.

I stood there for a moment, completely confused.

I started walking again, my mind racing. I know something's off with this village. I'm not stupid. The dagger, the way Sheikh Abdullah was acting, my grandfather's will, and that house that's always mysteriously dirty… There's definitely a story behind all of this.