A hot breath leaks out of its tiny red fist and turns into a white vapor that quickly dissipates. The cold descends silently, and the clouds are a big invisibility cloak that swallows the demolished houses whenever the sight tries to penetrate the foggy clouds. Dozens of crumbling concrete walls hug each other trying to exchange consolation, and countless pieces of torn furniture stud this scene where iron rods protrude from pieces of cement and hands reach out for survival. Dozens of afflicted people wander through the ruins, trying to dig out some of the rubble, hoping to find something to protect them from the knife of cold.

- "My hand is very red. " Ali said to his three friends, showing his hand.

• "My hands are red too. " said Fadi.
• "Can any of you join your fingers like this?" said Ahmed. " Ahmed said, crossing his fingers.

Everyone tried many times but failed, Ahmed laughed and said: "Look at Zaid's fingers, they don't move as if they were made of wood. "Look at Zaid's fingers, they don't move like they are made of wood." Everyone laughed and Zaid turned his head ashamed and said, "My hands are very cold, and they hurt. . "

• "Hey, look at me, I'm smoking." Fadi said releasing a warm breath from his mouth that instantly turned into a white cloud.
• "You there, boys, don't waste time in vain, come help us clean up the campground, or do you want to sleep tonight in the cold and rain? . " A man called out to them from afar.
• –      "Come on! " Ali shouted excitedly and everyone ran towards the Red Cross tents on that devastated land. Dozens of small conical tents are scattered here and there among the ruins of that part of the Rafah camp in the Gaza Strip, which was demolished by tanks and bulldozers in the darkness of a cold night.

The boys cleaned the tents one by one and ran among the hundreds of homeless people sitting on the ruins of their homes, frozen in shock. The sounds of crying children mixed with the coughs of the elderly, the noise of cars transporting aid supplies, hundreds of neighbors who came to help but could only watch in disbelief, groups of old women raising their hands to the sky and cursing Jews and Arabs alike, and dozens still determined to dig their belongings out of the rubble.

• "Hey, hey, hey, hey. Hey, kids, come here. Look what I found. " Ali called out, waving something. The boys rushed to Ali, who was standing on a huge pile of rubble.
• "What is this . It's a bag. It's a bag. " said Fadi.
• –      "Yes, this is my school bag, look inside." He opened his bag, "This is Wani, she's fine." He took it out and turned it over in his hands.
• –      "I have a great idea, let's collect colors and decorate the tents, what do you think?" Said Zed.
• –      "That's a really great idea, come on. " Ali shouted and the boys ran towards the tents.
• –      "They started drawing the Dome of the Rock, the map of Palestine, olive trees, flying birds, blooming flowers, some guns and masked faces, and writing phrases they had always heard and decorated their school notebooks with: We're coming back, Dar. Jerusalem is ours. Revolution until victory. . This is a jihad of victory or martyrdom. The Red Cross logo disappeared among the children's drawings, joined by dozens of others. The Red Cross logo disappeared among the drawings of the children, who were joined by dozens of their peers, turning those cold tents into paintings that shine with color and attract the eye.
• Let's decorate the inside of this tent." Ahmed said to his friends and they went inside and started drawing.
• –      "I want to draw a tank like the one that came yesterday." Said Zed.
• –      "How do you know? It wasn't one tank but twenty tanks and two bulldozers." Said Ahmed.
• –      "I know, I was awake, when the ground started shaking under the chains of the tanks, the sound shook our house and we were screaming and my father was telling us not to make any sound." Zed replied.
• –      "I heard them calling on loudspeakers saying: "Everyone has to get out of their houses immediately because we're going to demolish them. I went up to the roof of the house and the rain was coming down hard, no one came out of their house, so they started demolishing Hajja Aisha's house on the edge of the camp, it was a terrifying sound, women were screaming and wailing and people were running away with their children from the houses, then my father went up to the roof and slapped me and then took me down, we put our clothes on and ran away." Ali said, fighting back tears.
• –      "As for me, I didn't wake up until after everything was over, my father carried me outside while I was sleeping, and when I opened my eyes I didn't know where I was, I thought I was dreaming." Fadi said, "Imagine, they forgot my little sister's milk bottle at home, and she doesn't sleep or shut up without it, it must have broken by now under all these stones."

Suddenly, Zaid started crying and sat on the floor, putting his head between his knees, sobbing, and the boys sat around him and consoled him. "Now we won't be able to go to school," Zaid said crying. All the books are under the rubble. . "

• "Who cares about going to school, to hell with the school, too bad they didn't tear it down too." Said Fadi.

Zaid kept crying and they kept comforting him, "Come on, come on, come on. You must be cold, let's make a fire." Ali said.

• "Excellent idea, we can collect some broken pieces of furniture." said Ahmed.

The empty tent is littered with broken chair legs, tables, and boards.

- "Come on, let's get started. . . " he shouted at me.

• "Where is Ahmed? . Hasn't he come back yet?" Fadi wondered.

They tried to ignite the wood to no avail, and Ahmed entered the tent happily with a can of gasoline in his hand.

• "Look, guys. . " Ahmed exclaimed triumphantly as he displayed the plate.
• "What did you come up with?" Fadi asked.
• –      "It's a can of gasoline. Now we'll make a big fire. "

The party started with the ignition of a set of chair legs and the flames rose high in the tent.

• "Close the tent door well, we don't want any of the adults to come in suddenly." Ali said, and Fadi quickly tied the tent door from the inside tightly and quickly returned to take his place among the revelers.

The tent is a large fireplace filled with smoke and fire, the glow reflecting off their small faces, making them bright red.

• "You see that huge log, that's Sharon. Yes, it is. Now you're going to hell, Sharon. because you're a cowardly criminal. Come on. " Ali shouted and threw Sharon into the fire.

Fadi picked up another log and said: "You see this log, it's Perez, the cunning one. Come on, Perez, you big devil, enter the fire. " And he threw the wood.

Zed pulled out a third log:" Now it's my turn. You, you filthy log, who are you? Yes, you're Mofaz. "Come on, brave Mofaz, break into the fire. " He threw it and everyone laughed.

• "And now. "I will make your lives a living hell, you criminals. I'll torture you like you tortured us. Here you go. Here. Here you go. . "He poured gasoline from his can, and the fire rose madly.
• "What's that over there? "Recognize that tent, it's on fire!" one of the men outside shouted. ' Everyone rushed towards the tent, which was soon reduced to ashes. Four small, charred bodies were carried away in ambulances, which let out a terrifying howl as they broke through the piles of rubble.

Limited and highly confidential alarm

The first one boarded the bus with a school bag on her back and looked around for an empty seat. She sat next to an elderly woman in the front. The second boarded a little later and had to sit in the only empty seat, next to a young man wearing dark sunglasses. She put her books in her lap, wiped her sweat, glanced at her companion, who deliberately ignored her, and then shifted her eyes among the passengers, most of whom were sleeping IDF soldiers.

As the plains stretched out, the green hills rolled by and the bus drove on, the light reflected off everything into an unfocused glare, "It's definitely an unusual summer," she thought to herself. She said to herself." I don't know if it's the intense heat that bothers me, or Samar's impudence, she must impose her opinion on me, even if it is wrong, because she preceded me to Haifa University by one year, she knows everything, Haifa, the road that leads to Haifa, bus numbers, schedules and routes, even what I have to eat or not eat. to eat or not to eat, can someone explain to me even one reason why we have to take the bus to Safed, while we are going to Nazareth, but no, that's what "teacher" Samar wants, and why? Because the roads, according to her, are less crowded and safer, but when will we get to Nazareth, it doesn't matter apparently because we will eventually get there. Oh how I hate you, Samar, you are not my sister or even my cousin, it's just that you were my older sister's classmate in school, and now I have to put up with your arrogance because you beat me to university. Do I really hate you? I don't know, but I hate your bullying and treating me like a little girl." She gave her friend a piercing look, then opened a book and scrolled through it with her eyes unfocused. The sound of the engine and the constant vibration of the bus made one feel oppressively sleepy in the sweltering heat. She relaxed in her seat and relaxation tugged at her eyelids with its invisible threads and she yawned, putting her hand over her mouth and trying to resist it.

"What's your name?" The question caught her off guard and she sat up and sat in her seat, trying to control her senses, "I said what is your name? Don't you know Hebrew?" She turned to the young man sitting next to her, his gaze fixed on the glass in front of him, not moving or turning like a wax statue, while his black sunglasses hid his expression.

• "My name is Aisha, I know Hebrew very well, I'm a student at Haifa University."
• "Aisha! So you're an Arab, and is your friend an Arab too?"
• –      "Yes, we are residents of Nazareth."

She kept waiting for him to ask more questions, but he suddenly fell silent as suddenly as he had spoken, so she chose to face him with silence as he did. He was an ordinary young man in his early twenties who looked like any other Jew on this bus, perhaps he had just left his camp on leave like the rest of the soldiers and wanted to join his family in Safed.

"Damn those Jews," she said to herself as she surveyed the passengers, "You know the Hebrew he's asking me, I wonder how many he knows, the one who came from Russia yesterday. He's been watching us since we entered and I thought he was asleep behind his black glasses, what pride is this? He didn't even bother to look at me, it's so rude, so rude, so rude. "

She peeked at him, trying to explore his personality, military-style shaved hair, blue jeans, sneakers and a flannel that read in English, "Make Children Not War."

He took a pen from her grip, opened a notebook and wrote a few words in it, then quietly put everything back in its place as she looked at him stunned, unable to utter a letter, let alone a word. I looked at the notebook and it read in clear Arabic letters

" Aisha

Take your girlfriend and get off at the next stop, something terrible is going to happen to this bus."

She couldn't believe her eyes, "He knows Arabic, but how?" She read the letter over and over again and glanced at him as he coldly ignored her." Something terrible is going to happen to this bus." "What can happen to this bus?" she repeated to herself. She got up from her place, overcome with terror, and walked with shaky steps towards Samar. She shook her by the shoulder and whispered in her ear: "Come on, we have to get off at the next stop." Samar didn't pay any attention to her and said quietly, "We haven't reached Safed yet, we still have a long way to go."

Samar asked the driver to stop and he stopped, and the passengers looked at the two of them as they got off in that lonely place. The door closed and the bus continued on its way, leaving the two girls in an empty and lonely parking lot.

"Come on, tell me what made you insist on dropping us off in this abandoned parking lot when we're just starting out?" Samar shouted angrily.

• "He told me that something terrible was going to happen to the bus, yes, the guy sitting next to me was not Jewish, he wrote me a note in Arabic saying that something terrible was going to happen to this bus, and told me to get off."
• "This is bullshit. Yes, it's bullshit. "Samar screamed and the bus, which had not traveled far, exploded, flames poured out of the windows, the roof flew into the sky, shrapnel scattered everywhere, and the bus was still running down the street like a burning ember. Samar hugged Aisha tightly, watching in shock.

Bus number (19)

"There, on the other side of Tiberias, on the east side, people live like other people, they live, work and travel wherever they want, there people live free, no one stops them, no one searches them, no one calls them Arabs, "Arab" is not a curse for them as it is for us.There no one can call them brutal and backward and kill them in cold blood for no reason. There are no strange, cold, cruel faces, no voices that wail and howl all the time, no eyes spinning in their sockets, no loaded rifles ready to spew fire from their black hollows at the slightest movement."

"Tiberias today is not the Tiberias of yesterday, today's Tiberias are dens for the corrupt and yuppies from one end of the world to the other, today's Tiberias are slutty laughter, swaying bodies, and profane moans. Yesterday's Tiberias is those dilapidated buildings, with their cracked walls, desolate squares, dilapidated domestic fountains, and its captive mosque, that mosque that stretches its neck high as if it is about to drown. It is the memories of simple fishermen, and the poor cafes' lanterns on clear summer nights."

"I wish I knew how to swim, I would throw myself into your warm embrace, O dear, caring one, to wash away my worries and forget, forget everything, forget the sight of Fadi with his hand gripping the stone, the blood all over his clothes, his eyes a black hole, nothing there but nothing.

"Fadi is dead, Ismail. Fadi is dead. Smoke him. "No, Fadi can't die, Fadi is at school. "No, I saw him on TV, his white shirt and green pants, his red backpack on his back, he threw a stone and grabbed another one to throw it and before he did he fell to the ground."

My mother was right, I remember the picture of seven-year-old Fadi, they brought him home, the stone in his hand, his backpack on his back and his eyes closed, ashamed of her sister who was blown up by "Jewish" bullets, I don't know how I felt at that moment. I don't know. I felt responsible for killing him, why wasn't it me? Then I felt that life is a trivial and boring game, and that death is the only reality on this earth, and if we must die, it is on me and on my enemies, O Lord. "

Ismail looked at the bag that was sitting next to him on the wooden bench of the bus stop, stared at it and then looked at the lake again, "Today we will fulfill our debt, Fadi, my bag and your bag will open their eyes as they opened yours, it will ignite a fire that burns their bodies and hearts as they burned our hearts on you, wait for me a few hours, maybe less, on bus number (19) leaving to Tel Aviv we will meet.

Ismail turns around and there is an unusual noise around him. Dozens of people have gathered near the parking lot. He immediately stands up and holds his bag in his hand, holding the end of an invisible string between his fingers." People are looking at the lake and pointing at something, a little boy.

-"Look . . He's drowning. He's going up and down. " shouted one of the onlookers.

-"Let one of you come down and help him. " said a woman addressing the crowd of standing men.

-"May the Lord be with him. Praise the Lord. Praise the Lord. Come on, come on, come on. Come on, come on, come on. "A religious Jew said.

-" My son . . My son. . Joseph. Joseph! Somebody help him! . "Help him!" a woman screamed as she ran quickly towards the crowd of onlookers. The woman circled the crowd, grabbing their arms and shaking them violently, saying, "Help him! Help him! Please, he's going to die. " The boy's hand as he tried to rise to the surface of the water was gripping a small white lump, going up and down.

"Yosef. Joseph. "The mother called to her son. The boy looked up at Ishmael as he rose to the surface of the water, he was like a little Redeemer holding that white thing in his hand. Calling. "Don't let me die twice. Save me, Ishmael. "

Ismail tosses his bag aside and throws himself into the water and struggles and struggles and struggles, water flying in all directions, the sound of his arms smashing the surface, the crowd calling, the child diving, little Fadi with his red bag and his exploding eye, and the blood. Blood all over everything, a sea of blood. And the sound of the impact, and suddenly something stuck to his neck, it was the little boy, he didn't look like Fadi at all, his face full of blond freckles and small gray eyes, in the meantime bus number (19) arrived at the stop, and the driver and passengers got off to see the scene.

Ismail pushed the child up and pushed and pushed and pushed, down and down and down and up and up and down, down and up and up and down, down and up and up and down, then . . nothing. He went down and then went up and nothing, he went down and up again, he couldn't see, all around him was a big white halo, and images came and went and then disappeared.

-Save him. -Save him. Save him. He saved my son. He saved my son. Somebody do something! " the child's mother screamed, pointing to Ismail.

"We couldn't save a toddler, so how do you want us to save a sixteen-year-old boy?"

-"He's a hero, he saved the child but then he died." Said one of the women standing by.

-"Stop it, woman, he's just an Arab. The goyim have always served us, let him drown and the murderers will be one less." The religious Jew said.

-"Mommy, my ball fell in the water and I wanted to fetch it." The child said as everyone looked at Ismail and the top fingers of his outstretched hand slowly disappeared into the air.

-"Now that this filthy Arab is dead," said the religious man, "let us erase his trace forever." He picked up Ismail's bag from the seat amid shouts of approval, and with all his strength threw it towards him, but a huge explosion rang out in the place, turning it into a black hole.

Signs on the walls of Al-Aqsa

Beautiful are the stones of this eternal wall, beautiful and strong, timeless and unchanging, they have been and will remain, no matter the change of time or faces, and human beings are but light breezes that, with their weakness, blow away these stones, only to dissipate without a trace.

- "You are the same, Abu Ibrahim, forty years have passed and you are the same, your work, your house, your form, even your beard is dyed to stay the same." Abu Ahmad said as he looked at those entering the Temple Mount.

- "Thank God for health, thank God for everything." Abu Ibrahim said as he arranged the antique perfume bottles on the shelves of his shop, which was nothing more than a large iron cabinet mounted on the antique wall.

He pulled out a small chair and sat across from Abi Ahmed, watching the visitors to Al-Aqsa. Friday prayers had not yet begun, but worshippers were rushing to the mosque.

- "What's the news about your son Mahrous? Is he still working in Kuwait?" Abu Ahmed asked.

- "God bless him, his son has become a young man all his life." He replied.

- " Mashallah. Mashallah. "Abu Ahmad said, "May Allah protect him for his parents, doesn't he have other children?"

- Ibrahim before him was alone, but I had a whole country before him. My illness and religion made it easy for me."

- I still remember your son Ibrahim as a young boy who was as lively as a little girl. When I would sometimes come from the village with my son Hamdan - may God free him - he would ask him to go with him to see the Al-Aqsa Mosque, but he refused to move from his chair in this shop."

- I raised my son with commitment and poise, so he never once caused me trouble with the Jews. All his friends were imprisoned, deported, or expelled, except for Ibrahim. Every night I put my head on the pillow knowing that my son was sleeping under the same roof."

Abu Ibrahim fell silent for a while and shared his colleague's oversight as he looked at the mosque's visitors, who were now arriving in successive groups, and then resumed: "By the way, how is Hamdan, your son?"

- "Ah," Abu Ahmed said, letting out a long exhale, then continued, "Only God knows where he is now in Ansar Prison. Jalameh Talmand. Al-Maskobiya. Twenty years he spent between this prison and that, coming out of one administrative detention to enter another, coming out for two months to be imprisoned for two years, and sometimes his detention is renewed even before he leaves the prison. His children are many, God willing, and they all hang on my neck and the necks of his brothers."

- "God save them." Abu Ibrahim replied.

Meanwhile, the gates of Al-Aqsa were crowded with men and women, old and young, in various forms, and the occupation soldiers intensified their presence in their green khaki uniforms.

- "Isn't it enough that they stole our land and imprisoned our children, even our mosque is crowded with them?" Abu Ahmed said angrily, cursing the occupation soldiers.

- "O Abu Ahmad, what harm is there in skinning a sheep after it has been slaughtered? What is written on the forehead must be seen by the eye." Abu Ibrahim was silent for a while and then said, "May God comfort you, Ibrahim." He turned to close the shop to go to prayer with Abu Ahmad when he suddenly shouted: "Curses... "Damn ... every time the cob hits the jar, you sons of the ....?"

- "What happened, Abu Ibrahim? What are you shouting?" asked Abu Ahmad, surprised.

Abu Ibrahim took off his keffiyeh with a large yellow water stain that had spread into the pores of his white keffiyeh, with black dots scattered here and there.

- "The pigeons did it again on my head. It's as if someone is sending it to me to do that." Abu Ibrahim said in exasperation.

After a while, Abu Ahmad passed by to find the shop closed, with a small cardboard sign that read, "The shop is closed due to the death of the owner's son. Condolences at the home of the deceased's father on ... "

A few days later, Abu Ibrahim was sitting in his shop with a tall young boy standing next to him.

- "Grandpa," said the boy.

- "What is it, son?"

- "I want to see the Al-Aqsa Mosque."

- "Not now, son, not now, look, here comes the Major to have tea with us."

- "Good morning, Abu Abraham, how is your uncle, are you okay? Your son died in Kuwait, Markhom. Markhom. Who is the boy, Abu Abraham?" Said the Major, wondering.

- "This is my grandson and his name is Tarek." Abu Ibrahim replied in a tone of pride.

- "You're a good uncle, don't make trouble. You stay in a place that doesn't rock with vandal dogs. Understood?" The major said, trying to be nice. The boy turned his face the other way and nodded his head in agreement.

As the days passed, the officers came and went as they had for years to Ibrahim's shop, watching the mosque from there, especially during crises and demonstrations.

As the days passed, the boy hoped to visit the Al-Aqsa Mosque, which he had always seen on TV, in paintings, magazines and textbooks, but he failed to convince his grandfather to let him enter the wall, as he spent most of his days at its door without entering it even once.

- "Grandpa! Please allow me to see the mosque that I have always dreamed of seeing since childhood." The boy said pleadingly.

- "Son, the situation is tense, and if there are demonstrations, your life may be in danger." Said the grandfather.

- "Don't be afraid, if I see that the situation is dangerous, I will enter the mosque and won't come out until everything is over."

The old man finally agreed, but the next day was the most violent of the demonstrations, bullets were fired, tear gas was fired, and victims fell, their blood irrigating the clean floor of the mosque. At the end of the day, when the ambulances arrived, they found the boy in the corner of the mosque, dead from suffocation.

Ibrahim's sky darkened, thundered and blackened, the mountains grew taller and taller, and the great wall trembled, trembled and could not stand still. The world was no longer a world, Jerusalem was no longer Jerusalem, time was no longer time, and the air had dissipated so much that Abraham tried so hard to search for a breath of air, no matter how small, that he could hardly find enough for one breath.

He didn't sleep, didn't eat, and neglected his shop for days on end. "Ibrahim is dead, his son Tarek is dead, and I am dead. What will I do alone? Will I be like a grain of sand carried by the wind to this place and then scattered without meaning. ... Now welcome trouble, welcome trouble, I don't live if a Jew lives, I don't live if a Jew lives, I don't live if they live. ."

The next day, Abu Ibrahim had dyed his beard again, opened his shop, in front of which some trash had accumulated, pocketed something and waited. He waited and waited. Abu Ibrahim waited and waited for a long time, the officers were coming as usual to watch from his shop as they had done for the past years, and once again the demonstrations flared up again, and the soldiers were running in front of Abu Ibrahim's shop like raging reds, so in the crowd of runners he drew his knife and sent it, but his strike was blunt, the soldier turned to him in surprise, then turned his head and continued running away, retreating with his colleagues away from the stones of the protesters.

The night that Abu Ibrahim spent after the incident, the detention center was like a needle in his eyes, tightening around his neck until he suffocated. Barbed wires stretched to infinity and grim faces firing thousands of questions, "Why? Why? Why?" "Why?" "Why?" "لمـــــــــــــاذا؟؟؟؟؟؟"

In front of him shines the image of Abraham, "Why, father? لمــــــــــــــــــاذا?" In front of him shines the image of his grandson Tarek, "Why, Grandpa? لمــــــــــــــــــاذا ؟؟؟؟؟" and behind everyone else, the Major appears, "Abu Abraham . . Abu Abraham. "You're a saboteur, Abu Abraham.

People running and soldiers in front of them, the ground is shaking with Abu Ibrahim, the soldiers are running behind him like a torrent destroying everything and many people are following them throwing stones, and he is running and running and running trying to reach the open gates of Al-Aqsa to sit in it, but whenever he thinks he is close, he realizes that he is still at the beginning of the road.

The obsessions were killing him, choking him, suffocating him, haunting him, clouding his mind, preventing him from eating and drinking, a grinder spinning in his skull, grinding and grinding and grinding without stopping.

Three days later, he reopened his shop, determined to face arrest as a small price to pay for his vengeance, the fire still burning fiercely in his heart.

The sun rose in the sky on a clear June day, and Abu Ibrahim sat in front of his shop waiting, the hours passed slowly like a turtle, and when the sun was halfway up the sky that day, the major came down as a heavy guest and said: "Abu Abraham, how is your uncle? He took a military boy who says you hit him with a knife. I said, "No way, Abu Abraham is an old friend, a good friend."

" O Abu Ibrahim, even vengeance did not obey you. What men are you? Where do you stand? What are you? What are you? You are nothing, little children realize their vengeance, but you are not fit to be with humans, let alone men."

Visitors to Al-Aqsa passed by the shop for several weeks without seeing Abu Ibrahim. Days passed and dust and dirt accumulated on the shop, and then the day came when the shop was removed from the wall like a rusty nail from the horseshoe of an unruly horse.

A new pastor

"I wonder about this generation, we were never like this, we were men, those days seem to be gone forever." Abu Mahmoud then took the denture out of his mouth and wiped it with a cloth napkin. "This denture is poorly made, it hurts me all the time, nothing like the workmanship of the Lord of the Worlds." He took out a small knife on a keychain and scratched the plastic base of the denture.

 - "Stop doing that, you'll disgust the customers."

- "And why, this set is clean, I eat with it, then tell me where the customers are, are they standing in line in front of the shop, or do you want to kick me out by any means."

- "And there's no way, you're sitting in it like it's your father's shop." And he laughed.

- "Of course, no one can get me out of here if I don't want to."

- "You didn't tell me what you want to drink, or should I get you as usual."

- "No. I don't want coffee, I've heard it causes atherosclerosis, I want flowers, flowers."

- "Mashallah, you have become afraid for your health, you are over eighty, don't be afraid, if the English can't handle you, how can coffee handle you, you are only able to handle the power."

- "Don't exaggerate, I'm only seventy years old. Seventy-eight years old to be exact. I was eighteen years old when the British sentenced me to death in thirty-six, and it is now sixty-four years later. That means I am now seventy-eight years old."

Abu Muhammad laughed for a long time and then said, "Thank God you did not engage in commerce, otherwise you would be poor or perhaps in prison, the total of what you mentioned is eighty-two years, say Masha'Allah."

Abu Mahmoud was silent for a while, counting on his fingers, then he took a pen out of his pocket and did his calculations on an old newspaper. His mouth broke into a small smile that quickly grew larger: "Yes, by God, it's true, and I don't think I'm eighty yet." He immediately got up and went to the phone on the opposite shelf.

- "What are you doing?" Abu Muhammad asked

- "Wait. Wait, wait, wait. "Abu Mahmoud signaled him to shut up. Give me His Eminence the Mufti, please. Tell him, Abu Mahmoud. Hello sir, how are you? You see, sir, it turns out I'm older than you."

- "Yes. Yes. Sure, at thirty-six I was eighteen years old, how old am I now?"

- "Exactly. Eighty-two years old, two years older than you. "Samer, you'll be here in a little while. God willing, there are some Sharia fatwas I want to prove you wrong. Are you ready?"

- "No, now I'm busy, I have an important job. Goodbye. . "

• "There is no power except in Allah, the Most High, the Almighty," said Abu Muhammad. " Abu Muhammad said and clapped his hands.

- "What's the matter, don't you know there's only one person left in this country who's older than me, do you know who he is?"

• "If His Eminence the Mufti is younger than you, he must be the judge of judges."
• "No, sir, it's not the judge, it's Sheikh Barakat, the imam of the Great Mosque."
• "Now that he's sick, I'm telling you, you might be number one soon." Then he laughed .
• –      "Do you want to bomb the man's age? "
• Abu Muhammad laughed and said, "No. No. Who will pray with us on Friday? I forgot that you don't pray Friday or congregation, Abu Mahmoud."
• –      "Praise be to Allah, I am diligent in praying at their times, but I do not permit praying behind a paid imam, because prayer is a worship and it is not permissible to take pay for doing it, and everyone you see is praying for a salary, and if the salary is cut, they will go to look for another profession other than leading prayers." Abu Mahmoud said.
• "Man, the imam doesn't get paid for his prayers, but for his dedication, and if he doesn't get money, where will he support himself and his family?"
• "Listen to me, you are not more understanding than Sheikh Rushdi, he is the Mufti of the country, and I proved him wrong, okay?"
• –      "You want to destroy religion, you want us to pray at home like women like you do. Fear God, man."
• –      "Don't talk to me about religion, I have more religion than this whole country, you don't seek the truth and don't accept it, you want religion according to your mood, this is the religion of Mesh Tin."

The coffee boy entered the shop, with a tray of drinks in his hand.

• "Give the flowers to the old woman." Abu Muhammad said.
• "Here you go, Uncle Abu Mahmoud." Said the boy.
• –      "May Allah increase your favor, my son, how is your teacher."
• –      "Fine, kiss your hand and pray for your longevity." Said the boy.
• –      "Say hello to him often."

The coffee boy walked out of the shop and the old man followed his gaze.

• "Look. Look! "Didn't I tell you that masculinity is gone forever?" Abu Mahmoud said stunned, "See that boy, he's like a woman." He pointed to a passerby.
• –      "Leave them, Abu Mahmoud, for every generation has its time."
• –      "Invalid. A strange time whose men wear long hair and wear bracelets on their hands and necklaces on their necks, and whose women wear pants and uncovered hair. I wonder, time."
• –      "Then don't say that you were an angel when you were a young man, and don't forget that everything has its time."
• –      "I was the youngest member of the organization of Sheikh Izz al-Din al-Qassam, may God have mercy on him, and I did not miss his sermon in the Istiqlal Mosque in Haifa, and when the revolution took place, as one of its vanguard, and I was sentenced to death, as you know, I was the youngest person to be sentenced to death, and you know the rest of the story."
• –      "Yes, I know her well, she escaped from Palestine when the revolution ended, and your mother tried to buy you a pardon from the High Commissioner with a hundred pounds of gold, but she failed, and the rest of the old story she told us hundreds of times. "
• –      "No one can get out of their own skin, we are the 36 men. "
• –      "So what, you ultimately failed to do anything useful."
• –      "It is enough that we were men, we never lacked courage and sacrifice, we were ready to sacrifice everything, and we did, but the conspiracy was bigger than us, we were stabbed in the back by the Arab leaders."
• –      "Abu Mahmoud, you are an old man on the edge of your grave and no one will hold you accountable for what you say, while I have a stack of children to raise, there is no need to talk about leaderships and other things that bring headaches, let's talk about vegetable prices. " Abu Muhammad laughed as he waited for the effect of his words on Abu Mahmoud's face.
• –      "Of course, vegetables are more important to you than the loss of the Al-Aqsa Mosque and the blessed land, and of course this is the one who lost Palestine."
• –      "We have been hearing this talk for more than fifty years, and as you tried, we tried, and what was the result, more division, more defeats, more diaspora, no benefit, our issue will not be solved by human beings, its solution is with the Lord of the Worlds. Take the newspaper, read it and tell me on which page they put the news of the first and central issue of Arabs and Muslims." Abu Muhammad handed Abu Mahmoud the newspaper.

Abu Mahmoud took out a pair of thick glasses covered with dust and fingerprints, blew a hot breath on them, wiped them with a wrinkled cloth napkin, put them on his eyes and read from the first page in a loud voice:" Receive. Say goodbye. Traveled. Sent. Returned safely home. Opened . . Met. Held. Engaged. visited . . . . Ha... This is important news. Big explosion in West Jerusalem. Details page. The number is small. Can you read it?" Abu Muhammad took the newspaper and read, "Big explosion in West Jerusalem. Details on page 19. "

• "Open . . open . . May God have mercy on your parents," Abu Mahmoud said excitedly.
• "A large explosion rocked West Jerusalem during rush hour, killing more than fifteen people and injuring many others, whose condition is described as serious. The explosion, which occurred at the Ibero American Pizza restaurant, claimed the lives of more than fifteen people. "
• –      " Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar. Yahya your origin, hero. Find out who did it."
• –      "Here it is. The Izz ad-Din al-Qassam Brigades, the military wing of Hamas, claimed responsibility for the explosion. "
• –      "Allahu Akbar. These are your men, Qassam, your blood was not in vain. Damn the British and their lackeys, the Zionist Jews. " Abu Mahmoudj got up from his chair and called out.
• –      "You see, not all young people today are corrupt, Hanno is a young man who blows himself up for the sake of Allah, what do you say about him? Or do you think that heroism was the preserve of your time and then died? "
• –      "I swear by Almighty Allah he is a hero, these are the men or not. Listen, Abu Muhammad, don't you know how one can join these people? "
• –      "No. Don't say you want to blow yourself up?"
• –      "Void. We are the 36 men. "
• –      "If you insist, you can call Sheikh Ahmed Yassin, head of Hamas, and ask him if they accept old people like you. You can ask him to send you in the nearest operation, and if you become a martyr, don't forget us from your intercession. "If you become a martyr, don't forget your intercession.
• –      "Do you have his number?" 
• –      "What number?" Abu Muhammad asked.
• –      "Sheikh Ahmed Yassin's phone number, I want to call him immediately."
• –      "No, but you can call the phone company's inquiries." Abu Mohammed said with a smile on his face.
• Abu Mahmoud got up and spoke on the phone:" Hello, my son. I am Abu Mahmoud the Slaughterer. Give me the number of Sheikh Ahmed Yassin in Gaza. Yes, yes, yes. He is the head of Hamas. It's all about God. Okay, thank you."
• –      "What is it?" Abu Muhammad asked.
• –      "He says his number is not in the phone book. "

Abu Mahmoud went to the door in a hurry and Abu Muhammad called out to him: "Where is the man, old man? "Where are you, old man?"

• "I have an important job. " and disappeared into the crowd.

Hero's Tale

-1-

• "My daughter Fatima . . I never thought that my innocent little girl would be the kiss of suitors and the flower of young women. I promised myself that I would only marry you off to someone who was worthy of your beauty, intellect, and piety, and God knows how many suitors I repelled until today I was approached by someone whose location we do not know and who does not hesitate to accept his proposal, he is Muhammad al-Ali. You know who Muhammad al-Ali is and who his father, the heroic martyr Sheikh, is. What do you say?"

"I guess your silence means yes. Then God's blessing. "

Fatima rests her cheek on her left fist, leaning her elbow on the windowsill as the rain falls heavily in the darkness of the night, coating the window's flowers with white grains that descend like tears, and the glass is obscured by vapor that condenses to drop drops on the ground, which she quickly wipes off with her hand whenever it is about to obscure the vision.

She turns around every now and then to make sure her child Ghadeer is safe from the flaming diesel heater. She focuses her eyes on her own eyes and notices the perfect resemblance between her child's eyes and those of her beloved husband.

"Fatima, I will not be Muhammad son of Sheikh Ali if I do not remove these unclean settlers from the house of my father and grandfather. Steps, Fatima. . Steps from him and you will be in the Abrahamic sanctuary, and what do they know about the Abrahamic sanctuary and those who inhabit the Abrahamic sanctuary. I promise you that he will return to us soon. I promise you that he will return to us soon. "

Then that day comes, there's a loud knock on the door, and Fatima opens the door: "Come on, Fatima, come on, I've come to say goodbye. ' He entered the bedroom and I followed him, he took some of his things and left.

• "Where to?" she said
• "I killed them. They refused to leave our house and wanted to kill me, so I killed them. I have to leave now. I leave you in God's care. Goodbye, Fatima, take care of yourself and Baghdir. " He kissed the little girl and left.

-2-

The rain is still falling and the hail brings pieces of the sky, carried by the winds of Hebron's towering mountains as blades that pierce flesh, bone and marrow. The lights of the city dance in the raindrops, the ground shakes under the sound of continuous thunder, and torrents of water pour from the sky as it cracks with brilliant lightning. The olive branches shake and clap violently and then return to calm down a little as the rain and wind subside.

"Four years have passed since the day I said goodbye to Fatima. . and our child Ghadeer. Four years of hardship for us and, of course, for them. This is our land and this is our right, the inheritance of our fathers. May God have mercy on your soul, my father, I never thought I would follow your path, and you, whom I remember only as a faint shadow that may have formed in my mind when I was a child from people's tales of your heroism and poets' poems in your glories. As fate would have it, I would follow the same path, albeit after some time, and become "Most Wanted Number One," as the Jews like to describe me."

He moved towards an old Roman olive and tried to insert his body into its hollow stem. The cold cuts through his body like a heavy whip, and he shakes, trying to stabilize his head and hands against the chill, but to no avail. He hangs his weapon at his neck and rubs his palms, trying to get the blood back into his cold fingertips, which are as red as blood. Spikes pierce his knuckles and send a horrible electric current through his back.

He exhales from deep in his belly and his breath condenses into a small cloud that is quickly dispersed by the wind, he arches his back, enduring his pain, he unclips the bandage from his humerus and squeezes it, blood dripping from it with water. The wound is swollen and painful, but he reattaches the bandage, fighting back cries of pain.

He looks at Hebron through the mountainous olive groves to see that many of the lights have been turned off and the city is asleep.

-3-

A tear slid down her cheek as she stared at the cold blackness, the distant mountains looking like enormous ghosts standing proudly and defiantly, her pupils dilated as they penetrated space and time.

• "Listen, ma'am, it is my duty as a doctor to tell you the truth, no matter how painful it may be. "There was a pause, and Fatima stopped breathing. The chances of you having a child seem very slim. "

Fatima burst into tears, that day was a real disaster for her.

"Listen to me, Fatima. I love you because you are Fatima. I love you because you are Fatima. . my wife. My wife. Children are a blessing from God, no one can prevent his blessing. "

The newborn's voice fills the delivery room, her little face is red as she clenches her closed eyes as she cries, tiny blonde fuzz covers her body, and her lips are searching for something.

• "Congratulations, Fatima. . " said her sister.
• "I wish it was a boy, but it's God's will. "

The door is knocking lightly and the universe is dark and still. "Tk, tk, tk, tk. "A faint voice at the door. .

• "Who's at the door? Go away or there'll be a lot of screaming. "
• "Open the door, Fatima. Open the door, Fatima. I'm Muhammad, I've come to see the little one."

She opens the door hurriedly and Mohammed jumps in quickly and closes the door behind him, "I don't have time. Thank God for your safety, where is the little one? I want to see her."

The little girl was wrapped in a heavy woolen blanket, sleeping peacefully. He held her in his arms and looked at her face. "She looks like you. "He brought her to his lips, kissed her, and gently put her back. "Now it's time for me to go. "

• "You've only been here for a very short time. Stay with us tonight and leave at dawn. We've missed you. I mean, I've missed you. "
• "I'm constantly being watched and they must be preparing to break into the house at this moment. I'll go out the back, see you soon, God willing." He rushed to the back door, opened it and turned to Fatima: "Don't forget that I'm with you all the time, even if you don't see me. " He walked out the door and disappeared into the darkness.

-4-

The rain continues to pour down and the clouds spread as the wind dies down, the water slides off the olive leaves to pour itself on Muhammad al-Ali, his wet clothes, his matted hair, his wandering eyes, his reddened nose, his pale face, his body slumped in the hollow of the old tree, his weapon hanging from his neck, his explosive belt he uttered, his wounded arm and a loose bandage, two legs stretched out of the tree like two discarded logs, and rubber boots sinking into the mud.

"Where are you, Death, will you save me from this fatigue? I can't take it anymore, every cell in my body is screaming ah! "

He tried to adjust himself to pray dinner, but he couldn't stand, so he chose to pray while leaning against the hollow of the ancient olive, "Allahu Akbar. In the name of God the Merciful, the Compassionate, the Compassionate. . Then what? Yes, in the name of God, the most merciful, the most compassionate, the most merciful. . Praise be to Allah, Lord of the Worlds. "Tiredness bends his head down and then soon awakens from his trance "Where have you been? Yes, prayer... Does sleep invalidate ablution? No, I didn't sleep, it was just a quick nap. Praise be to Allah, the Lord of the Worlds. "He bowed his head again, "I wish I could sleep, a few moments of sleep. I wish I could sleep. Sleep. . Ah, sleep. . "Wake up from your slumber again." Alhamdulillah, Lord of the Worlds, Most Merciful, Most Merciful. . "He tilted his head to the left and immediately woke up, almost crying. "No, I must not despair, Allah does not cost anything, I will pray without reading. "He threw his head back and exhaled. " He threw his head back and exhaled an exhausted sigh, and fell asleep, opening his eyes, "Muhammad. . Muhammad. . "He raised his head and saw the figure of a man dressed in white, the light filling the place "What is it, Muhammad? You are a mujahid and a mujahid does not give up. You are a mujahid and a mujahid does not despair, a little fatigue should not defeat you. . "

• "I'm tired and I don't want to live, I want to die to rest. I want to close my eyes and sleep. I want to sleep. "
• "You will rest soon, Muhammad, God willing, but remember, the battle is not over yet and you have to complete the road to the end."
• –      "I'm wounded, freezing cold, tired, hungry, I can't move a finger."
• –      "You will not turn back now after all these years, how can you turn back when you are almost there, seek help from Allah and do not be helpless, and mention Allah and what you complain about will go away from you. . "
• –      "What do I say?"
• –      "Say, 'I have no god but Allah, on Him is my trust, and He is the Lord of the Great Throne. Repeat it, Muhammad. . Repeat it and it will be enough for you. Repeat it, O Muhammad. . Say it with me. "There is no god but Allah, there is no god but Him."

Muhammad lowered his head to the sound of the imam of a nearby mosque reciting the morning prayer. . "Do not be deceived by the fluctuations of those who disbelieve in the country, for a little pleasure, and then their abode is hell, but those who fear their Lord have gardens from underneath which rivers flow, immortal in which is a descent from God, and what God has is good for the righteous. . "

Muhammad stood up, tightened his belt, put his weapon on his shoulder, moved his injured arm, performed ablution and then called for the Fajr prayer.

-5-

The sun rose from between the mountains of the horizon and the clouds fled, leaving the square for warm rays, pedestrians walk in small numbers on dewy ground, and the roofs of houses and balconies still retain some of the night's rain. Shops and shops began to open their doors and peddlers set off with their carts towards their targets quickly, the sounds of children laughing and carrying small plates to buy chickpeas and beans for Friday's iftar. Fatima lifted her head from her palms resting on the windowsill all night and took a deep, refreshing breath as she tried to focus her eyes on the scenery below through the glass of the window.

She got up from her chair, made sure her daughter was put in her bed, and tried to get busy organizing some things in the house.

• " Fatima . . Fatima . You're not coming with us to Hind's wedding? Won't you come with us to Hind's wedding? Just this once, I know you don't go to weddings, but she's our cousin and it's different this time. Please, for my sake. Come with us just this once." Her sister Amna's voice came from the first floor.
• "Sorry sis, it's close by and I can see the view from my balcony. You go and I'll go later to congratulate her on the wedding."

After Friday prayers, a number of young men gathered across the street and began hanging decorations, lining up plastic chairs, setting up a proper stage and speakers, and by the time people took their places, the wedding had begun.

The zajjal's voice comes thundering through the speakers.

"Oof. Oof! Oof. Yaapa, oof, oof, yaapa. . "

We came on this day to share the love of our hearts

on his blessed wedding, God willing, our Lord and Savior

O Lord, protect him from the eye.

and keep us safe in the sanctuary, family and home.

Dar, Dar, Dar, Dar, keep your head up, Darna.

As long as we have heroes like our groom

" Allah... Allah! "The crowd gathered, the backs of houses and balconies were filled with women and children, and Fatima was looking at the ceremony.

- "Oof. Oof! Oof. "

  " Gamgoum, Al-Zeer and Hijazi are three, not two," sang Al-Zajjal.

• "Not two. " the audience chanted in ecstasy.
• –      "Muhammad al-Ali and his father, the martyr Sheikh Athnan."
• –      "Two" is the audience.
• –      "God bless you, our country, after they left on Tuesday, not Monday

With Muhammad al-Ali's heroic deeds, an army can do two things.

God is gracious and we see Hebron and Jaffa as one, not two

"Sing, girls, when we call our hero, who has no two."

 Young women's choruses and bullets from automatic rifles rang out.

"Oof, oof, oof, oof, oof, yabba. . Oof, oof, oof, yap.

You are the one who called the Jews with one voice, not two.

If you killed one Hebronite, we killed ten, not two.

We're coming every day, not just Monday.

If he closes his eyes, he sleeps.

Because a coward's soul, my brother, is lonely if it's lost in two.

I wish you had a thousand and two.

"Chirp for Muhammad al-Ali, protected by one, not two."

The bullets rang out again, mixing with the girls' choruses, and a hot tear ran down Fatima's cheek as she looked out the window.

-6-

Time is too slow and the monotony is deadly. The sun uncharacteristically dares to defy the winter chill and turns noon into an alien summer day. Muhammad al-Ali waits behind a rock near the entrance to the colony with a thin wire in his fist. He raised his head as he watched and then looked at his wounded arm, "Don't let me down today, I know you are tired and in pain, but I promise you that you will rest afterward and forever. "He took a deep breath and shouted "Allahu Akbar" and pulled the wire hard, and the sky and earth turned into a red hell, and the bus immediately burst into flames, and Muhammad jumped from his position and started shooting at it heavily with his automatic rifle, cars from the settlement tried to intervene, and he threw grenades at them, which quickly burst into flames, and ran towards them, firing his deadly fire. Bullets rained down on him from all sides without hitting him, he made sure to eliminate his target, eighteen corpses scattered here and there without moving, he tried to retreat quickly. A black helicopter suddenly appeared from between the mountains, he pointed his rifle at it and fired, it responded by firing seven anti-tank missiles.

How the young men snatched the charred body, no one knows, but they hoisted it wrapped in a green flag on shoulders above a massive human torrent roaring with rage and revenge.

A Thorn in the Eye of Death

The night is a heavy black blanket that sits on the chest of the universe through the glass window, and the stars shine faintly, appearing and disappearing behind the swift summer clouds. The city is forced into silence, the lampposts lazily cast their yellow beams on the old roads, casting more shadows on the dark alleys. Muffled voices emanate from behind cautiously closed windows, and the distant roar and thunder of heavy military vehicles and gunshots shatter the wall of silence that quickly reunites. A black cat crosses the street from the opposite alley, grabs the door of a closed shop, then heads towards a can lying on the sidewalk, fiddles with it for a bit and then desperately returns to the alley. A military jeep drives around, shining its searchlights here and there, and fires a shot that pierces the darkness to confirm the curfew is in effect. Someone closes the window curtains to prevent the light from escaping outside.

• "Raed! Why are you standing in front of the window in this darkness and this late at night?"
• "I want to see the world outside."
• - "Aren't you afraid of a stray bullet? Besides, it's not good to be up this late at night."
• - "The schools are closed, so don't be afraid, Dad, and I'm not afraid of bullets."
• - "Well, did you have dinner?"
• - "No, I didn't feel hungry."
• - "You haven't eaten anything since this morning, if you keep going without food you're going to be weak, and your portion is counted in the ration..”
• –      "And if we run out of food, where will my younger siblings eat when we've been under curfew for days?"
• - "It's none of your business. What is important is that you eat your share as others do, and when the food is finished, God will create what you know." "
• - "But why don't you eat your share? I'm watching you, you haven't eaten for two days."
• - "Oh. What's yours and what's mine, you're really stubborn, very stubborn. Good night."

A fire burns in his chest like hell, blowing its heat and blackness into his arteries, and comes out with every breath from his chest like the air of a hellish nightmare, his body shrinks and tightens, his teeth grind together without stopping and his feet are unstable, bouts of anger and shame come to him and he shakes as if he was touched by an electric lightning bolt, he feels an overwhelming weight perched on his head and something hidden, something shameful and shameful that he must cover it up and hide it and break the head of anyone who thinks, just thinking, that he has it in his hands.

" Ah, all right on that bastard, he's jealous of me, he envies me because I'm better than him in everything, I wish I could crush his big head." He swallowed, exhaled a long, fiery breath and stared at the empty streets.

"I am Raed al-Daqr, the father of heroes, the smoker of the Jews, I am called a coward!" He shook his head, trying to prevent tears from forming in his eyes. "I'm showing you, Moataz the dog, the trouble is that the youth believed him! That's the problem." He bit his lower lip with his teeth and banged his fist on the window sill, "Shame on you, Zaman." He spat on the floor and crushed his spit with his foot.

"I am the instigator of the demonstrations and the instigator of the strikes, and I am called a coward? And from whom? From people who have only faced the occupation army behind me? " He shook his head and tried in vain to swallow.

"I wonder what Mutaz the dog is doing now? He must be sleeping in his mother's lap like a little child. Oh, Mutaz, if there were no curfew, I would show you tomorrow who the coward is, you lying pretender. But simple, there will be a day."

A military vehicle illuminated the street with its lights from afar and advanced, avoiding the bodies lying on the street until it reached under the window and then fired a shot that whizzed past Raed's face, who quickly stepped back, tripped over a piece of furniture, and fell to the ground. He immediately got to his feet and spun around to check the situation.

• "Are you okay?" His father's voice came from inside.
• "Yes. Yes, don't worry, I'm fine." Raed replied and angrily kicked the piece of furniture with his foot, "Damn girl! Even you, you idiot, want to beat me, isn't that cursed stone enough? What's going on, is it a conspiracy to make me look like a coward? I'm not a coward. I'm not a coward. " shouted Raed.
• - "Major, is something wrong?" He called his father.

Raed woke up and said:

"Don't be afraid of anything."

"It's lucky for me that Mutaz Abu Ras is not here, otherwise he would rumor that I fell like he did the first time, and who would convince everyone that I'm not." Raed took a deep breath and the world remembered that fateful day, when he fell to the ground in a confrontation with the occupation soldiers and was pulled back by Moataz. Moataz was so proud of himself that he told the story to the school students thousands of times:

"If you saw Raed and the soldier running after him, he was running like a frightened mouse, and out of fear he fell to the ground and couldn't get up." Then he laughs full of the world and the youth laugh with him.

"Then I came to save him, so I threw a flint stone at the soldier that drew blood from his face and he came back howling in pain, and I pulled Raed back and he stayed for an hour, unable to speak." Moataz laughs and shakes his big head and the whole world with him.

• "You're a liar, a liar! It's just that I stepped back when the tank came forward and started firing and I tripped over a stone on the ground and twisted my foot so I couldn't get up." Raed defended himself.
• "It's because you're a coward." And everyone laughs.
• - "I'll smash your head in, Big Head." A battle ensues between the two, which soon ends with them being separated.
• - "One day, Big Head, we will see who is a coward and who is brave. For now, go to your mother to stuff your head with food, mommy's lover."
• - "You're a coward, a coward, not the Dukkar or anything else, you're a coward." He hears the whole universe laughing, his body shakes with pain and hot tears fall from his eyes.

"Fuck you, when is this curfew going to end so I can get what's rightfully mine?"

The curtain in the house across the street where Moataz lives seemed to shake as if someone was behind it, "Moataz must be watching me from behind the curtains and gloating at me, the bastard. "

Raed poked his head out the window and shouted toward the house across the street:

"Mutaz Abu Ras! You are a coward, you are not a man, if you are a man, meet me." The empty streets echoed Raed's voice in an angry echo that lit up some of the windows, and wary eyes searched for the source of the sound.

"Mutaz Abu Ras! I know you are hiding behind the curtain, if you are as brave as you say you are, answer me."

A few heads peeked out of the windows, and the opposite curtain opened and a man in pajamas peeked out and said:

• "Don't you two ever stop fighting?" His voice came from across the street.
• "Major, what are you doing there?" "Go to sleep immediately," his father called from inside.
• - "I'm not a coward, Mutaz is a coward, yes, Mutaz is a coward. "
• - "Can't you put this off until the morning?" The man in the house opposite asked, and a boy's hairy head appeared from under his armpit, rubbing one of his eyes from drowsiness.
• - "What is it, what's going on?" asked the boy.
• - "Go to sleep, Mutaz, I don't want you to fight this night." The man said to his son.
• - "Mutaz Abu Ras, your mother's lover, where have you been hiding?" Raed called out at the sight of Mutaz as if he had caught a prey.
• - "Who's that?" Moataz asked, trying to stop himself from yawning.
• - "I'm Raed, Raed Aldagar, and I'll smash your big head in, you long-tongued bastard, so you know what to say next time."
• - "Who are you, you coward? It's better for you to stay hidden in your house among your little brothers, everyone has recognized you for what you really are." Moataz replied, the last traces of sleep evaporating from his face.
• - "I'm a coward, mommy's boyfriend, meet me downstairs if you're a man." He ran towards the door, avoiding his father, who got up from his bed and tried to stop him.

Seconds later, Raed was standing in the middle of the street, shouting like a madman:

- "Mutaz Abu Ras! If you are a man, come down to me, come down, you coward! "

- "Come up here right now, you lunatic, they'll shoot you. " His father shouted at him as he stretched his body out the window.

Moataz came down from his house and a crowd of people from the building and the building across the street came down with him. It was only a few minutes before many people were standing in the street trying to get between the two boys, forgetting about the curfew, the shooting and the roar of the tanks.

Each was trying to escape the fists of the two barricades to defend their dignity with their arms.

- "That coward, coward, that's my opinion of you and it will remain so."

- "You're a liar, a liar, you didn't tell anyone about the tank that was firing that day, because you want to be a hero." Raed replied, trying to get away.

- "Tank or no tank, it doesn't matter, you're a coward, you're afraid of everything, not just the tank."

- "You're a liar, I'm not afraid of tanks or even blue elves, and I'm going to prove it to you now and to all these people here."

Moataz stuck his big head out from between the bodies of the two barricades and said sarcastically, oblivious to the attempts of those gathered to calm things down:

- "And how are you going to do that, brave one?"

- "Now and then, I will attack that tank on the street corner and throw stones at it in front of everyone, but the big question is, can you do it, hero?"

- "What is this madness?" "Let's forget the differences." "The Jews are criminals who will shoot." "Guys, people, we are in a state of curfew, have you forgotten that?" There was a lot of talk on the street that didn't mean anything to Raed and Moataz.

- "I can do anything you can do, absolutely, and even more." Said Moataz.

- "So, mommy's boyfriend, let's see who throws stones at the tank first, who is the brave one and who is the coward."

Without warning, Moataz and Raed were racing towards the tank and escaped with the crowd running after them trying to realize them, filling the quiet city with noise and shaking the street as if an earthquake had hit it, the tank turned its cannon towards the source of the sound, the arrivals were in the hundreds. It spun its massive chains and began to retreat from the site, leaving the curfew to crumble under the feet of the crazies.

Shah

"The morning of beautiful Hebron, the morning of you, Mustafa, the morning of light and miracles, the morning of the undying sanctuary, the morning of pride and violence, the morning of a beautiful Hijazi Zayri Jamjoumi. The morning of minarets and jasmine, the morning of doves, the morning of lofty peaks and mountains of dew, the morning of wild thyme and vines of clouds, the morning of the free breeze, the morning of those who sleep on the feathers of rocks wrapped in pure clouds, the morning that does not go away, the morning of . ... "

- "Stop this nonsense and listen carefully."

- "What's up, it's Friday and they know we don't work on Fridays. "

- "I told you to stop talking nonsense and listen carefully, I feel something strange. "

- "You're always like this, haven't you gotten used to it yet after all these months of chasing?"

- "That's why we're still free. Didn't you notice that no one's been on the street for almost half an hour?"

- "It's normal, it's a holiday and people wake up late on holidays. "

- "Maybe, but I still feel strange, the movement is completely cut off. "

- "Tell me what you dreamed tonight? Every morning you tell us your vision, I noticed you tonight. You didn't sleep at all, you must have read half the Qur'an up, and before dawn I heard the sound of your bath, and here you are in your white robe, perfumed, you must have dreamed something.

- "Cuff (excited), there's movement in the alley..."

The sounds of feet hitting the ground, running closer and closer, interspersed with the sounds of several vehicles. A loud noise fills the place, and the sound of a helicopter not far away is deafening. Mustafa looked out the lower window to the square in front of the house and found many military vehicles lined up in a defensive position, and many soldiers on the roofs of the houses opposite.

- Mustafa. Mustafa, the ghost. We know you're in there. Come out at once, surrender yourself without resistance. " A hoarse voice comes through the loudspeaker with a threatening tone.

- "What's going on out there? They caught us! I can't believe it! "

- "I told you enough," Mustafa said sharply. "Go wake up the guys, Musa is at the stairwell door, Ibrahim is in the kitchen in the back, you check the traps, and then I go up to the shed..."

The voice called from outside again. "Mustafa the Ghost, come out immediately without resistance, the commander of the Central Zone is talking to you, I promise you on my honor if you come out without resistance he will not catch anything bad. "

Mustafa looked at the thin wires stretched under the doors an inch off the ground, holding two grenade rings on the right and left, and peeked out the window at the military vehicles.

"Here is the rocket launcher, I think it is difficult to use it inside the house," said Youssef after delivering the instructions to his colleagues, "Never mind, but keep the back door open and leave the rest to me," said Mustafa confidently, "Now I will go up to the shed. " Yusuf replied. "Before you go up, put the ammunition box behind the pole and make sure that everyone has what they need, and when they stop shooting, I know that they are trying to pierce the roof or one of the walls, wait until they go inside and their bullets subside, and reach them from the shed and we will reach them from the burrows. Yusuf, seek help from Allah and do not fail. " . "God is great, O Paradise and its nearness, its goodness and the coolness of its drink. " Yusuf said and left.

- "Listen to me for the last time, Mustafa, surrender or die for you and those with you, I promise you a fair trial if..."

The sound of a violent explosion stopped the sound coming from outside and one of the military cars was set on fire by one of Mustafa's shells. Smoke rose in the sky due to smoke bombs and the car was dragged out of the yard after it was extinguished, bullets started pouring from all calibers, then several huge explosions knocked down parts of the front wall of the house, then another explosion at the beginning of the stairs, Mustafa crawled to the stairs, opened the door slowly, the bullets stopped and the smoke began to clear. One of the soldiers was lying on the ground with blood covering every part of his body, and another was moaning at the door of the building, crying and crying for help.

- "Mustafa, Mustafa, Mustafa. "Yusuf's voice came from the shed, "What happened?"

- "They tried to break into the house from the top of the stairs and one of the traps exploded, now they will try again to pull it out and I will be on the lookout for them. "Mustafa took the barrel of his gun out of the door and waited until it was dark at the top of the stairs, and soon he saw a shadow trying to get inside, so he pulled the trigger and the shadow quickly fell to the ground, Mustafa went out to the stairs and quickly dragged the body of the soldier into the house, avoiding the wires of the other traps. Mustafa carried the bloody body to the window facing the courtyard and hung the soldier by his ammunition rack on a torn bar of the window, dangling him outside under the cover of smoke.

It was a horrible sight, a torn body hanging like a crucifix on the front of the building with blood still dripping from it like a sheep that had just been slaughtered.

The house was like an abandoned cave with black smoke covering its stones, and the front facade was almost destroyed, with the soldier's body hanging over it like a frightening ghost, warning anyone who dares to come forward with a similar fate.

The military vehicles soon withdrew from the site, and the situation was strangely calm, like the calm before the storm.

- "Mustafa... where are you? Moussa was shot in the arm and waist."

- "I'm here, underneath. underneath. in the burrow. Help him! Quickly! The box is in the kitchen. Those bastards must be up to something big. We have to move fast. Is the work done downstairs? It took a long time. This is the consequence of laziness and slow work. "

- "What slowness? We've been working for more than two weeks on both sides, day and night, and we didn't rest until last night when the work was almost done."

-"In any case, the next hour may determine our fate, either to be buried in this house alive or to come out like a hair from the dough from the hands of these villains." Mustafa said as he emerged from the burrow, dust and smoke filling his clothes.

Mustafa was known as "the ghost" because many attempts to catch him failed, and this time was no exception to the rule. He prepared to get his group out safely, but his preparations are not yet complete, which may expose the entire group to death.

- "I've bandaged his wounds, and he's fine. The boxes of ammunition are still in good condition and should last us a few more hours."

- "Good, but this time watch out for the ceiling or the back door, they might try to pry it open or break through a wall..." The ghost was interrupted by a very loud voice filling the room, "Holocopter, holocopter, holocopter. The ceiling... The ceiling..." He pointed upward, "Masks on. Masks. Gas! Gas! "

The sound began to fade gradually, and soon there was a violent explosion in the house, and the dust filled the house again, and rays were penetrating the veil of dust to fall on the floor of the rooms with difficulty. The sound of prying began to fill the house and the hole in the ceiling gradually widened, then there were two small explosions inside the room, and shrapnel from two grenades splashed the walls and shattered what was left of the glass. The place became quiet again and a faint sound like a snake's hissing sounded. "Gas! Gas! " Mustafa shouted loudly.     

A rope hung down from the tunnel and then a man came down on the rope and started shooting randomly everywhere and in all directions. He calmed down a bit and then another one came down. They stood in the center of the room wearing chemical masks, and it was only a matter of time before they were pelted with bullets from all directions. Then there was a terrible silence, a faint sound coming from the helmet of one of the bodies, calling out in Hebrew, but there was no answer... "Sergeant... Sergeant... "Sergeant!"

Mustafa crept out of his hiding place, crawling on his stomach until he reached the two soldiers and made sure they were dead. Ibrahim. Mustafa crept out of his hiding place crawling on his stomach until he reached the two soldiers and confirmed that they were dead. Once again the sound of the helicopter became clearly audible: "Now the grandfather has come..." Ibrahim said addressing Mustafa. "Everyone go down to the shelter, and God willing, the young men will be finished before the bombing begins," Mustafa ordered firmly.

The sound disappeared, then returned again, but louder and angrier, then it was gone again, there was a loud roaring sound outside, then a terrible crashing sound, a bulldozer had broken through the right wall of the house, demolished a large part of it, and was pushing the rubble in front of it, not caring about the bullets that were coming from all directions. Mustafa quickly came out of hiding with a rocket launcher on his shoulder, crawled to the window and fired the rocket at the bulldozer, which had retreated a little outside the house to attack with more force to demolish the entire wall, but he did not have time, and before he returned to resume the attack, he had turned into a flame of black flame...

The helicopters that were watching the scene were impatient and fired a missile that landed in the kitchen, causing great damage. Mustafa rushed out and dragged him to the burrow, "Moussa ... Moussa ... Moussa! What's wrong with you? Moussa, what's wrong with you? I testify that there is no god but Allah and that Muhammad is the Lord. I testify that there is no god but Allah and that Muhammad is the messenger of Allah, Mustafa, will Allah have mercy on me if I die? Will I be a martyr, Mustafa?" Musa said with difficulty. "Moses, don't die, Moses, for by God, if there were a martyr walking on two legs, it would be you. Don't die now. We made a pact to die together. Isn't that right? "Answer me," Mustafa said with tears in his eyes.

- "O Paradise and its nearness, its goodness and the coolness of its drink. I won, Lord of the Kaaba, O Allah, the martyrdom of martyrdom, and the companionship of companionship, with the prophets, the righteous, the martyrs, the righteous, and the best of the righteous ... " A light smile appeared on his face as he stared at Mustafa's face, who was in tears and screaming hysterically, "Moses ... I ... "What is it, Mustafa? "What is it, Mustafa?" Ibrahim peeked out of the hole and asked Mustafa with a look of horror on his face.

- "There is no power but in Allah, and we are with Allah and to Him we return. Musa was martyred." Mustafa said sobbing. A hot tear escaped Ibrahim's eye as he saw his jihad comrade lying there, smiling in death. "May God have mercy on you, Abu al-Izz, how beautiful you were in life and how beautiful you were in death, we ask God to grant you the highest paradise and grant us your company and join us soon ... Listen, Mustafa, we must take Musa with us. "

- "Yes, let one of the young men come and take Musa to the shelter." Mustafa said as he wiped his tears.

 Ibrahim's voice came from below, "Mustafa, are you still there?" Mustafa replied in a voice muffled by the layers of rubble, "Yes, I'm fine." Mustafa replied in a voice muffled by the layers of rubble, "Yes, I'm fine."

- "The work is done, we have the boys now."

- "Hassan, you go, I can't reach you, I'll do it my own way." Mustafa said in a barely audible voice.

- "But can't you just..."

- "Don't mind me, I'll survive like I always do, you go and don't forget to blow the tunnel door, that's an order." Mustafa said firmly.

- "Goodbye, Mustafa, and goodbye. "

A few minutes later, there was an explosion under the rubble and then everything went quiet. A bulldozer moved towards the rubble to remove the debris, but bullets were waiting for it. The bulldozer retreated, and bullets fired again at the pile of rubble. In the evening, just before the blackness of night mixed with the whiteness of day, a strong voice came from the loudspeakers: "What are you waiting for, you idiots, if night falls, he will escape, attack the house at all costs." The soldiers advanced towards the place, taking one step and delaying another, but not a single shot was fired in their direction. They started walking through the rubble, searching, "Sir, sir. "Sir, here, here, it's the body of the hanging sergeant. "

- "You idiot, don't say suspended, say nachshon." They dragged the body outside, one soldier passed another, "What's this, comrade, you're badly hurt, go to the ambulance center in the back and they'll treat you, go quickly..." The other one nodded his head in agreement and left.

In the next day's newspapers there were lots of headlines, a picture of the suspended Sergeant Nakhshon in the center of the front page, under which it was written "The ghost strikes again..."

Another newspaper liked to write, "Bullets fly from the rubble, but there is no sign of the ghost..." Another wrote: "Once again, the Prime Minister's promises failed." Above it was a picture of him pointing and threatening, and next to it, after the battle, he put his head between his palms.

In a Jerusalem park, under an ancient Palestinian tree, two old Russians sat on a wooden bench and said to each other: "I told you there is no place for us in this country, the Promised Land is in heaven with Jehovah, not in this crazy land." The other looked at the picture of the soldier in the newspaper and said, "You're right. It is fortunate that we have grown so old that we have nothing to fear ... " He threw the newspaper from his hand to the ground and a cold wind blew it to nowhere.