Nothing but a lie

About three months ago I entered the CCN Young Muslim Writers Award. It was hosted by Cresents Community News (CCN) in Brisbane. The results were released on Sunday. I, while I did not win, was named a finalist. The winners table can be found here; 

Winner's table

My story I entered into the contest was called 'Nothing but a lie'. Here it is now, edited further of course.

***

Everything is a lie. Simple words, yet so complex.

     I stare at my reflection in the water, the ebbing river making ripples across my face. The pale skin, fair hair, hollow-like features; it's all nothing but a lie, a complex facade.

     From where I kneel in the grass I can hear children's laughter. Looking up I catch a glimpse of them playing on the other side of the river. Their mothers are chatting, but their watchful gaze follows the children, making sure they don't fall. They see happiness and youth in their children, not the transparent facade that the unseen use to screen their work-in-progress.

     I watch too; their faces seem innocent, carefree. Nothing harmful has touched their lives, not yet. However, soon their innocence will be stripped from them, only to be replaced by the evil of the world. Closing my eyes I feel a teardrop fall from my face; hear the soft splash as it hits the water.

     Why does life seem so unfair? Some people don't seem to realise the presense of the jinn that haunt the human mind. Others are all too aware. Whispers fill their senses, never letting them go. Some struggle against the voices; others embrace them, sinking deeper and deeper until it seems they can't sink any further. But they do, because there is no end, not until you reach the burning flames that lick at mankind's heels, taunting them in with false promises of warmth and comfort.

     Turning away from the laughing children I retreat back into the bushes. The shadows that luck here are but tricks from the sun, deceptions used to confuse. However, they also are nothing but a lie.

     Branches scratch my face and hands, drawing thin trails of blood. I scarcely notice them, the sting only serving to distract. I absently rub my hands together, brushing away the blood.

     I emerge in a small clearing, the town is just ahead. I'm unsure where to go next. Do I return to the town, or do I move on? The sun is setting and the upcoming night whispers and consoles. Never the truth, the whispers are lies. Everything in the world is a lie; that is the only truth. And if that is the truth, then isn't that a lie instead?

     As the last rays of sunshine disappear behind the horizon I feel the jinn come out; like blood turning to ice under my skin. The whispers surround, softely spoken promises filling the ears of those foolish enough to forgo the safety of their homes. I watch the town from a distance; observing wryly that it is the young and the drunk which are still out. The fools don't know that they are risking a lot more than a clear sense of mind by being out so late. They are risking their sanity, their very souls.

     I don't belong here. I don't really belong anywhere anymore. I can't protect the ones that will not protect themselves. I can't even save myself.

     Turning sadly from the sight of a drunkard practically stumbling into a jinn's embrace I climb up and over the small wall that protects the town from the river. If only it could protect from what is the real danger. I hesitate, uncertain where to go. The whisper of happiness reaches my ears and I almost succumb. At the last minute I turn away. The path ahead of me is strewn with thorns and debris, but I know that in the end I will emerge victorious. I shall be truly happy, but in the true sense of the word, not in the way these false assurances promise.

     As I walk away I know I am leaving souls that are corrupted and blackened by the jinn's lies. But they have to learn; everything is a lie.
   
     Everything but the truth.