Whispers from the Beyond

The Nadaha?! Oh, the memories this word stirs in me... The tales my grandmother told us by the oven when we were young children, listening with wide eyes and open mouths...

The story of that beautiful young woman who walks through the fields at night, calling out to young men—of course—to follow her... The young man rushes into her arms, only for her to reveal her true form—a terrifying, ferocious ghoul who devours the boy, and he is never heard from again...

How this story haunted us... How we imagined its gruesome details in hundreds of terrifying images... And even after all these years, I still remember my grandmother's low, rough voice reciting that mournful folk song:

"Where is the boy, O mother?"

"They said he went to sleep, his family..."

"He left the village when the ghoul called him..."

"Where is the boy, O children?" They said, "The boy is enchanted..."

"He traveled to her lands, and the years keep turning..."

What a story... And now it resurfaces from the depths of my memory... Strangely, it returns at this very moment... and with my brother, no less...

"Do you... do you mean the Nadaha?"

"Yes..."

"The Nadaha... the woman who calls out to young men and...?"

"Yes... the one who lures the young men..."

I dropped the bite of food in my hand onto the low table and stood up abruptly...

"What do you mean by this nonsense?!"

My mother said with tearful eyes:

"I swear it's true."

"But there's no such thing..."

"There is, my son... there is... Have you forgotten your grandmother's stories, or has living in Egypt made you forget everything?!"

"Ah... that tone I dreaded..." Once again, my mother reminds me that I have undoubtedly changed, that I now think I'm better and more important than all the beliefs of my family... And this, of course, isn't true... I shouldn't have to keep believing in ghouls, Nadaha, and Hatma just to prove to them that I haven't changed...

"Fine... how did she call him?"

"She called him... that's all..."

"And he... is he still here, or what?! Did he disappear?!"

"He's in his house... but he's changed... He doesn't talk to anyone anymore, and he doesn't eat or drink..."

"But that doesn't prove anything..."

"He's waiting for her second call so he can follow her forever..."

Oh, the madness... The nonsense that haunts me in England, Romania, and even here in my village, where I thought I'd find some peace of mind... I must investigate this matter calmly and without emotion. I mustn't allow myself to scream at these two dear souls...

"Fine..."

I said it in resignation... then added:

"I want to see him... Is that at least allowed?"

I went to my brother's house, made of red brick, with open red handprints on the door to ward off envy, along with some phrases meant to drive away the envious... I knocked firmly...

The door opened to reveal my brother's wife, her face stern and haughty. As soon as she saw me, she forced a harsh smile onto her lips and greeted me coldly:

"Welcome, Doctor... Praise God for your safe return."

She led me inside... where three children were playing in the courtyard. They stopped their game and stared at me with wide, curious eyes. "Come on, kids... greet your uncle..."

Two small hands reached out to shake mine, while the third child hid shyly, despite his mother's scolding. I muttered some words of praise for the children's growth and charm... then followed her to the bedroom...

There, on the bed, sat my brother Reza, hunched over, withdrawn... Night had begun to fall, making it somewhat difficult to see...

"Reza... your brother, Dr. Rifaat, has come... Come on, greet him..." No response... "Reza... he came all the way from Egypt just for you."

Silence persisted... I sat beside him quietly and observed him... He was wearing a dirty blue galabiya... his head bare... and in his eyes was a distant gaze, fixed on some unknown horizon.

He hadn't changed much, and I could still see my features in his... but what had struck him?

I sat beside him quietly and observed him... He was wearing a dirty blue galabiya... his head bare... and in his eyes was a distant gaze, fixed on some unknown horizon…

"Reza... don't you recognize me?"

He showed no sign of having heard me, let alone recognized me... I patted his shoulder and turned to his wife, who stood with her hands on her hips...

"How long has this been going on?"

"Since a week ago."

"And what happened...?!"

She lit the kerosene lamp to dispel some of the room's darkness, though it only added eerie shadows that heightened the tension:

"We had gone to sleep... then I heard a voice calling, 'Reza... Reza...' A woman's voice coming from the northern field. He got up, insisting on seeing what was happening. I told him, 'It's the Nadaha, Reza... Don't go, Reza...' But he insisted on going... And here's the result..."

"Did he come back after that?"

"No... He was gone for a long time... so I went out to the field alone, carrying the kerosene lamp. There, I found him standing alone, unresponsive... I brought him back to the house, and he's been like this ever since..."

"And he really doesn't eat?"

"Almost... Sometimes I stuff food into his mouth like a child or a duck! And the food stays in his mouth for hours without him chewing it..."

"And his needs...?"

"Wherever he is..."

Suddenly—without warning—she burst into tears, her words mingling with sobs:

"My husband is lost... It's over... If only he hadn't gone out... If only he hadn't heard her... What should I do... what should I do?"

Then she descended into hysteria, cursing his foolishness, cursing the circumstances that made him—of all people—the victim of the Nadaha, cursing the Nadaha herself... and even cursing me because... I'm not exactly sure what my role in this was, but she felt I had some part to play, though she didn't know what it was, and it deserved scolding... Perhaps because she would have preferred it if I were in his place... That I remained in full possession of my mental faculties was, in her eyes, an unforgivable crime... And I don't blame her for that...

Then she collapsed, so I sat her down next to Reza and patted her arm... How strange this woman was... All these emotions had been hidden behind her stern, haughty exterior...

"What should I do with the pile of meat he left for me?!"

The truth is, she was indeed in an unenviable position because...

My brother had been the man of the house in every sense of the word... He did everything and knew everything, and without him, she was completely lost.

"He's not dead, Najat... He's not dead."

"But he's as good as dead."

"He's sick... and he'll recover..."

"No... I know the fate of those called by the Nadaha... He'll stay like this for two or three weeks... and then she'll call him a second time. At that point, he'll leave the house forever, and no one will ever see him again."

"No... that won't happen as long as I'm alive... No harm will come to my brother..."

I stood up with determination... and she remembered me too... so she added:

"And no harm will come to my brother's wife as long as I walk this earth."

Darkness had fallen over the village... and the stars were strikingly clear in the sky, like holes in a black cloth covering the universe. Everything had cooled and taken on a harsh blue hue... Shadowy faces passed by me, greeting me with peace, and I responded with mixed phrases, my mind wandering...

What are these symptoms?!

This condition closely resembles acute reactive depression, emotional shock, or some other psychological disorder... though I can't be sure, as I know very little about such conditions...

In those happier days, drugs weren't known in their ugly, modern form... so I ruled them out immediately, even though the symptoms somewhat resembled chronic barbiturate poisoning... But my brother wasn't the type to become addicted... and he was never easily deceived...

Is it some organic disease I don't know about? Is it advanced catatonic schizophrenia? Is it... is it...? No answers...

There's one thing I do know: it's my duty to bring some of my university colleagues to see him... and I'm sure they'll come up with a Latin term of at least ten letters to name this condition... and prescribe some pills and injections to restore my brother to his former self...

Yes... I knew what needed to be done...