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    A Sane Tear
    A Sane Tear
    A Sane Tear
    Ebook59 pages55 minutes

    A Sane Tear

    By Rabie Soubra

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    About this ebook

    Growing in extreme poverty, and driven by a burning desire to define himself, Jaques loses his grip on reality gradually, and detaches himself from his family and everything familiar. In his loneliness however, love comes to him wearing a mask. But a score needs to be settled first. As core that will test his very existence.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRabie Soubra
    Release dateSep 4, 2015
    ISBN9781310019517
    A Sane Tear
    Author

    Rabie Soubra

    Born in 1964, in Beirut, Lebanon, married and father of two boys. A marketing and communication specialist. I love literature, especially Russian. Favorite authors include Hemingway, Joyce, Orwell, and many others. I read everything.

    Read more from Rabie Soubra

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      Book preview

      A Sane Tear - Rabie Soubra

      A Sane Tear

      By Rabie Soubra

      Published by Rabie Soubra at Smashwords

      Copyright 2015 Rabie Soubra

      Jacques was a madman.

      No doubt about it.

      His mother, his father, his two brothers and three sisters knew it, they all knew it.

      And he didn’t shy away from their perception of him. He didn’t care.

      He was too poor to care or to be able to care.

      His family was too poor to even contemplate or sympathize with the events that pushed him to madness, and the ones that resulted from it.

      The harsh reality of his madness was diluted in a big pool of harsher realities.

      The eldest of his brothers and sisters, the expectations of him were as high as his deception of his father’s poverty and lack of means any budding young man naturally aspires to.

      This family of eight lived in Bourj Hammoud, one of the poorest and dirtiest areas of Beirut. Their house was a big room in a four-storey building that was constantly under the threat of collapsing.

      Going to school, the first thing they smelled was a foul rotten odor from the open sewers running freely and openly in front of their building entrance.

      His father was a poor man, in means and in spirit. He was the closest thing to a non-entity a living being could be.

      He stopped working a long time ago and he was living and supporting his family on handouts from petty benefactors who ended up doing him more harm than good.

      His mother was a poor woman as well. Not only in means and spirit but in outlook as well. She never had ambition; neither did she ever have the ability to imagine a better life for her.

      Her father forced this marriage on her to relieve himself from supporting her as, he too, was dirt poor.

      Her mother contested his decision fiercely but he was adamant.

      When she asked him what future was he preparing his daughter for, he replied with submission that poor people have no capacity for contemplating the future, they can only drag the burden of the past.

      He believed it too.

      Jacques's father never showed him any emotions. Neither did his mother. That’s how poor they were.

      At school he was mocked and ridiculed.

      He and his brothers and sisters all went to a public school. The kind of school that only poor people went to. There were a lot of poor people at that school but they were the poorest.

      Their peers would cruelly subject them to the meanest kinds of humiliations.

      Because they wore the same clothes every day.

      Because they wore the same shoes every day.

      Because they stank and because their hair was messy.

      His brothers and sisters would go home crying every day, but he never shed a tear.

      He would feel dry, tearless, smoldering anger that was bound to eventually explode, as it surely did.

      One day, upon his return from school, he entered the house and saw his father sobbing. Silently at first but gradually escalating to infantile gasps. He wasn’t moved, nor did he feel concerned. His mother was sitting sternly in her rocking chair staring at nothingness in her usual lethargic fashion.

      He sneaked a peek and found out that his father was still sobbing.

      He despised his father but now he despised him even more. He felt enraged at his pathetic state and his weakness and wanted to suffocate him.

      He could not bare it anymore so he just stormed out of his house without telling anyone where he was going.

      The next day his father was found dead. He just went to sleep and didn’t wake up. Sorrow has never claimed a life so painlessly and so stealthily.

      His younger sister discovered the fact that their father was dead. She tried to wake him up that morning before she went to school but he didn’t move. She tried to jerk him harder but he just stiffly rolled around exposing his death to her.

      She took a look at her dead father, quietly walked around towards the rocking chair where her mother was sleeping and tapped her on the shoulder to inform her of the discovery.

      Her mother turned around still half asleep wondering what her little daughter wanted.

      She informed her that she thought her father had died.

      The mother just looked at her daughter for a couple of blank seconds and went back to sleep.

      The little girl went to school with her brothers and sisters as usual. But Jacques was nowhere to be seen.

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