FORESIGHT

It is long past midnight. He is situated on his sofa watching TV with a lighted cigarette in his mouth. The room is empty, the streets are devoid of life, a haunting silence engulfs the place and all he could hear are the subtle exhales of his smoke. His black cat suddenly leaps onto his lap causing him a scare; “you petrified me you little monster, come here!”, and he lifts the cat by the scuff of its neck, blows smoke on its innocent face then throws it on the carpet. He smirks then switches to the news channel. The latest news declare that the nation is alarmed by the militant activities of its neighbors whose tyrannic leader is promising expansion. He turns the TV off in haste; “what absolute nonsense! Expansion, alas, as if our previous wars brought any avail!”, and he stood up from his place shaking his head in mockery. He went to bed in his cashmere pants; lying down, he began contemplating the prospect of war and the fact he is nothing more than a celibate governmental clerk who lives on a scarce salary which barely allows him to survive month by month. He thinks for the poor amidst whom he lives and which constitute the majority of society, who cannot defend themselves, whom are helpless vis-à-vis the simple needs of life, nonetheless, against vicious military forces. His mind quickly shifts to the expected horror of children being abducted from their parents, the young women being seized and exploited by the instinctively depraved soldiers, the parents crumbling in their shoes at the loss of their children, the elderly witnessing what they have built erupting before their eyes, and the governors concealing themselves behind lofty walls assuring fallacies through the public platforms of influence they finance. Ponds of blood everywhere, shattered buildings, deserted streets; complete annihilation!

He thinks of a way to flee. where to? to whom? by what way? He admits that he is a coward who can contribute nothing to a possible collective resistance for all he knows is executing and arranging administrative documents. The curse of the modern man lies in the strictness of his abilities and the fact they are limited to one domain, on behalf and in pursuit of which, he relinquishes the rest of his bodily and psychic faculties which are most needed in moments as such awaiting our man here.

He suddenly awakens his senses from his subconscious reverie and reaches his hand to his forehead which he finds drained with sweat. He lets out a deep sigh and stands up for a cup of water and a melatonin pill to put him to sleep. He goes back to bed, this time quickly losing consciousness and surrendering to a long night of sleep. He remains unconscious for a long time, but prior to waking up, he has a dream.

He is walking alone down an alleyway which he well recognizes at the middle of the city. Suddenly he sees a wide crowd of people running frantically towards him, he ceases in motion, his eyes widened and fixated on the crowd approaching him; he realizes that they are intently running towards him and not anywhere else. He turns around in a haste and lets his feet fly. He tries to lose the crowd chasing him by running through the narrow streets of the city’s boulevard, yet they remain behind his back, shouting his name and calling for him to stop in a halt. Ten minutes pass by and he is still trying to lose them. He is out of breath but he forces every muscle in his body to move onwards; that is, until he reaches a dead end where two large Labradors were standing erected. He made up the decision of hiding behind them even though they may tear him limb from limb prior to the crowd ever catching him. And so, he stands behind them just when he can hear the clapping of their running shoes. The crowd continues to shout at him yet could move no further to seize him for the two Labradors are the size of roman statues, and are ready to mole those who come near. The dream concludes in a halt as the man is awakened by the sounds of sirens which echo throughout the whole neighborhood.

He stumbles out of his bed and dares not to open the window. He instead goes straight to his living room and turns on the TV. The news channel is broadcasting an urgent program declaring that the neighboring nation has begun its invasion and that its forces are marching towards the capital. He sits on his sofa and lets his body sink deep within it. Holding his hand to his face, he notices that his fingers are twitching. His breath is heavier than ever, not due to the suffocating air of his narrow apartment, but because he saw death, right there and then, standing before him in all its might. He begins to hear sounds from the street beneath him, he hurries to the window, yet he still cannot gather the courage to open it. His knees grow weak and he falls in a sitting position underneath it with his back put to the wall. He tries to focus on his breath as not to lose consciousness, but lifting his head up, he sees black silhouettes moving to and fro atop his white ceiling. They motion in a synchronized way as if they are under the spell of music, they meet in the middle then scatter all over the ceiling in such visually appealing fashion. He grows mesmerized by this psychic projection, he nearly forgets that an invasion is taking place and remains glued in his place with his eyes fixated on the ceiling. The silhouettes suddenly come together in the middle forming what looks like a one-eyed monster, and the man perceives the monster to be directly staring at him. Terrified, he puts his eyes down; “Death! That is death, woe me God, your death has found me! What should I do? I cannot escape it, it is now everywhere!”. He hears the first bullet being shot outside. In terror, he opens up the window to take a peak at the loud commotion beneath. He pushes his neck outside the window to see two soldiers standing with their rifles aimed at someone who is backed by a wall. He tilts his head further to see that the people being aimed at are two parents whom are protecting their child behind them. They stand before the two soldiers valiantly, whilst the child is concealing himself behind the garments of both his parents.

He shuts the window closed in one quick move, and falls on his knees.

© 2025 Yahya Oulad Aouid

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Ern M. Yoshimoto

this was nightmarish from the very begining. a bit like edgar allan poe, but in a more grounded way. and while a few years ago, that would be all i could say about this story, in our present day, this nightmare is all too real. i remember my disbelief when ukraine was invaded. i actually speak a bit of russian and had planned to travel around there some day.
the way the story here is structured was very well done. the setting - an unamed country, a city, midnight, the news blaring on the TV. the scene is set and the eerie silence of this space can be heard. the characterisation of our impotent hero was also well executed. while we know little about him, we immediately feel sympathetic and a bit sorry for him. the way he treats his cat is natural and shows us both his kind-heartedness as well as the relative loneliness of his life. all this makes his undeserved fate ever the more tragic. then the appearence of Death was a great twist. it really worked, as the mood was already semi-gothic so its appearence was natural to the scene. and it is terrifying, not for just what it is but what it represented. here, it represents war - something that is unfortunately a reality in our world.
the only piece of feedback i can give is i wanted to see more of death. you have very strong prose, so describing this 'character' in more detail would heighten the terror in this work.
but i really liked it. it is a timely piece, but also one that hinges on universal themes.