Call Me Ibrahim Chapter 1

## Story

***Please, call me Ibrahim!* I know you are searching for the truth. You are painstakingly piecing together the records I had erased. I don't know how far you've gotten, but, I'm sure the work you've done is good enough. There's no need to pursue it any longer. Just listen to my words. I created this world that exists now. I destroyed the world that existed then. The people began the countdown. From New York's Time Square to Seoul's Gwanghwamun to London's Trafalgar Square, the world's eyes were fixed on the second hand. The countdown would end and a new millennium would begin.**

In a house in Latakia (Al-Ladhiqiyah), within view of the Mediterranean Sea, a couple is holding hands. It has been five years since they were married, and her belly is big with child. And on the first day of the New Year, God gave them a child. He was given the name, Ibrahim. He did not cry. His eyes looked curiously upon the world. As Ibrahim learned how to walk, he began running around the large house by the sea. He walked up and down three flights of carpet covered stairs. A young Syrian woman stayed close by his side as he began to run in the backyard. Through the occasional falls and scrapes, Ibrahim grew into a healthy boy.

A baby sister was born the year Ibrahim turned five. Her name was Anan. She endured major surgeries at one and two years of age. Unlike Ibrahim, who was healthy and tanned from the sun, Anan's face was ghostly white. She did not run up or down flights of stairs. The Persian carpets that had covered the steps had been stored away. The Syrian woman had left to take care of a brighter, healthier child. Ibrahim's little sister spent most of her time in bed.

*"Be good to your sister now. You might not have the chance later,"* his father said to him, any time he caught Ibrahim tormenting his sister. He deduced what his father meant by the expressions on their mother's face whenever she looked at Anan. Ibrahim prayed for Anan's health to be restored, that they may run around their home together.

The sincerity of his prayers even played out in his dreams.

They climbed up the oak trees surrounding their house, jumped over fences, and laughed loudly together. Anan's once ghostly white face had turned a healthy brown. Her breathing was no longer wheezy. She opened up her chest and drew in a large breath and let it out with a loud *"Yaaaaah!"* towards the sea.

It was as if God had heard his prayers, and Anan did not die. Slowly, the color returned to Anan's complexion, and on one morning, she became the first to rise out of bed and ask, *"Please give me something to eat."* Mother burst into tears.

*"I prayed, daddy. So that Anan wouldn't die."* Father silently gave him a pat on the back. The doctor shook his head and declared it a miracle from God. The family never missed a day of church. It is difficult to attend church in Syria. And the more difficult it was, the harder they prayed.

Ibrahim and Anan began attending school. Their peers played ball or watched television. Anan grew into a very social child, and was very busy with friends. Since she did not have the chance when she was younger—was the reason why no matter what Anan did, their mother looked at her with warmth in her eyes. Ibrahim read books. He indulged himself in subjects like UFOs, the birds of South America, and world mysteries like myths and legends.

He was especially interested in the dinosaurs that once ruled the earth. The Tyrannosaurus, raptors, triceratops, brachiosaurus. Unlike his friends for whom dinosaurs were merely a phase, Ibrahim memorized the Cretaceous and Jurassic periods and the dinosaurs that existed at those times. He even followed his father to Damascus to buy models of dinosaurs. They looked so realistic in their color, size, even down to the wrinkles and teeth in the heads.

And Ibrahim would dream. Scotland's Loch Ness Monster became mixed in with the dinosaurs. A pteranodon emerged out of Loch Ness and flew over downtown Coventry. The image of the pterosaur spreading its wings against the backdrop of the ancient skyline and setting sun was quite impressive. The dreams were so vivid, Ibrahim did not forget about them very easily. As the years passed, the dinosaur toys were put away into toy chests and then moved into the attic. The soccer ball that rested on the floor mat in the living room turned into a baseball glove. Colorful tops littered the playroom, which then gave way to lumpy little plastic pieces. The year he turned nine years old, he became best friends with a boy named Karim. Karim's family would take one to two weeks' long trips during vacation time. Karim drew what he liked on these trips in his sketchbook and would show it off.

Ibrahim liked to have fun with these sketches. He made the Tower of Pisa lean a little bit more, and changed up the objects the Statue of Liberty was holding. The two boys would laugh at their handiwork. Ibrahim had occasional dreams these days, but none that were memorable as they were before.

And thus passed mankind's final years. The Twin Towers fell – at that moment, Ibrahim was at his house, looking at his shiny mobile. The world's economy was plunging into chaos.

Luckily, his father's company was not affected. Mother smiled about it, saying cars need oil to run. Lionel Messi, despite his small stature, commanded the world's attention, and Ibrahim rooted for Barça.

Southern Europe and the Far East occasionally saw riots erupt. Global warming was causing a panic, but Syria was hot to begin with, so no one there noticed.

The children became teenagers. Anan's face became rosier and her long hair made her look like a woman. He wasn't allowed to just come into her room anymore. If he just walked in to ask her to turn her music down, she would widen her eyes and lash out in anger.

Ibrahim turned sixteen.

## See Also

* Story (Complete version)
* Call Me Ibrahim

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