Bonjour, je veux un lien ou site ou je peux telecharger lightroom crack gratuitement, je le trouve pas. merci

Bonjour à tous !
Je partage avec vous redditeurs de tout horizon l’aboutissement d’un grand projet pour moi, puisqu’hier a commencé le financement participatif des Chroniques de Vaelran, chez Odonata Editions !
Les Chroniques de Vaelran est un jeu de rôle prenant place dans un univers de « Modern Hard Fantasy » dans lequel cohabitent de nombreuses espèces « Souveraines » et où la magie est une science imprégnant le monde. Il s’agit d’un univers de Fantasy aux inspirations de capes et d’épées, prenant place dans une époque inspirée de la fin du 18e siècle.
Les joueurs y incarnent des Chroniqueurs. Aux yeux des peuples, vous n’êtes rien de plus que le membre d’un Ordre de journalistes dont la vocation est de raconter l’Histoire de Vaelran. Mais en secret, vous êtes des agents œuvrant pour étendre leurs emprises, manipuler les événements et contrôler les sociétés ; vos chroniques sont des histoires écrites pour dissimuler vos actions. Vous usez de votre influence et de tous les moyens jugés nécessaires pour atteindre votre but : permettre au monde de voir naître l’Utopie, un avenir radieux où chacun pourrait pleinement jouir de sa vie sans contrainte.
Pour en savoir plus, vous pouvez aller sur la page Game On Tabletop où se déroule financement : https://www.gameontabletop.com/cf3611/les-chroniques-de-vaelran.html
Et pour les curieux qui voudraient un avant-goût, le livret découverte des Chroniques de Vaelran est disponible en téléchargement gratuit sur le site d’Odonata Editions : https://odonata-editions.ftelechargements/
Enfin, le 30 Avril nous avons participé à un live sur RolisteTV pour parler plus longuement du jeu et donner pleins d’infos qui pourraient vous intéresser : https://www.youtube.com/live/kx_QY5G1BbE?si=pp52i3qtxAf4B07n
Si vous avez des questions, n’hésitez pas à les poser sur la page du financement ou ici même, je me ferais un plaisir d’y répondre ! Partager ce projet est également un beau moyen de nous soutenir, et d'avance merci à tous !

Les Emirats Arabes Unis veulent faire de l'aéroport Al-Maktoum (Dubaï) le plus grand hub du monde pouvant accueillir 260 millions de passagers par an.
Retrouvez l'article complet gratuitement sur : ImmoPotam.com.

Hello everyone! As of today, we made free Proton VPN servers available in Chad ahead of the presidential elections on May 6th. We want to ensure everyone has free and unrestricted access to information and prevent any potential attempts of interference or misinformation campaigns. Learn more here: https://protonvpn.com/blog/free-servers-before-elections/
Français
Dès aujourd’hui, Proton VPN ouvre des serveurs gratuits au Chad en amont des élections prévues le 6 mai prochain. Nous voulons nous assurer que tous nos utilisateurs ont accès à un flux d'informations libre et non censuré afin d'empêcher toute tentative potentielle d'interférence ou de campagne de désinformation. Pour en savoir plus: https://protonvpn.com/blog/free-servers-before-elections/
عَرَبِيّ
بدءًا من اليوم، وبالتزامن مع اقتراب موعد الانتخابات الرئاسية في تشاد المقررة في السادس من مايو، قمنا بإتاحة خوادم #ProtonVPN المجانية في تشاد. نسعى لضمان تمتع الجميع بالوصول الحر وغير المحدود إلى المعلومات، وللحيلولة دون أي محاولات محتملة للتدخل أو حملات التضليل المعلوماتي.
لمعرفة المزيد، زوروا الرابط التالي: https://protonvpn.com/blog/free-servers-before-elections/
EDIT: We apologize about the formatting of the Arabic version, it seems there is an issue on Reddit with right-to-left typing.

I have always lived in poverty and discomfort. My family used to have a house, land and enough money to live comfortably, but that was many years ago. That was before Israel bulldozed our homes and forced us into a ghetto. Now we are treated worse than animals, murdered, bombed and tortured at will by the invading army. I know this from personal experience- from the experiences of myself and my family.
My grandmother’s sister had been one of the victims of the Safsaf Massacre back in 1948, when the Israeli Army had gathered up all the people in a small town. They started by taking the young girls and women aside, ripping them out of the arms of their family. When the girls came back crying and pleading for help, their clothes ripped to shreds, the Israelis had only laughed.
That was when they started shooting the townspeople, massacring them and throwing them alive down wells. My grandmother’s sister was one of the girls that was raped and then murdered by the Israeli military in the Safsaf Massacre.
So I know exactly what Israel is capable of, what kind of sick and evil place that festering country truly is. When the bombs started falling in 2023, I knew I needed to get out of Gaza.
The day that it started, I remember my mother running in the house, saying, “Jalel! You must get out of here. The Israelis just bombed the hospital and the school. They are targeting our homes and trying to wipe us out.” I stared at her for a long moment, feeling stunned and dissociated.
“Why would they do that?” I whispered. I had hoped the Israeli war crimes were a thing of the past.
“Because they hate us, that’s why!” she hissed. “They stole everything from us- our homes, our land, our jobs, our economy. But they won’t be happy until they steal our lives, too.”
***
Within days, Israel stopped everything from going into Gaza: food, electricity, medicine, even water. I saw many people die, especially the elderly, the sick and the very young. The constant strikes from Israel on our town shattered homes into piles of crushed rubble. Within months, tens of thousands of innocent people had died.
I stood on the roof, watching as thick clouds of black smoke snaked their way up into the clouds. Jets flew overhead, shaking the ground with sonic booms. I cringed every time one came low, not knowing if it would bomb my home as well. My friend, Wahib, stood by my side.
“Can’t you use your special gift to get us out of here?” I asked Wahib. He didn’t like it when I brought up his ability and his strange, invisible friend. Wahib shook his head, not meeting my eyes.
“I won’t call it up, unless I have to,” he said, looking sad and empty. “It is a dangerous thing, and I don’t know if I can control it for long.”
“Yes, but we’re going to die if we stay here,” I whispered, my heart sinking. He nodded.
“We need to get out of Gaza before the bombs truly start falling,” Wahib responded, shaking his head. “They’re probably going to kill hundreds of thousands of us this time. Just wipe us out like dogs.” He spat, disgusted. “I only hope there’s some justice in this world.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My grandmother’s sister had never gotten justice, after all, unless she was going to receive it on the Day of Judgment. And yet, as a reward for its war crimes, Israel simply got more funding from the US. No one seemed to care about the piles of bodies they were leaving behind in every Palestinian town.
“What about your family? What about my family?” I asked, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. My mother was sick with diabetes, and with Israel cutting off all medication to Gaza, she was rapidly getting worse. Wahib only shook his head.
“We can’t help them,” he said. “We need to help ourselves. We need to get out of this hellhole immediately, before the real genocide begins. They’re going to bomb every house they can.” As if to confirm what he said, a jet flew low overhead, so close I could see the six-pointed star on its gray metal skin, so close I could smell the jet fuel and fumes. Before I could respond, though, something fell out of it in a curving arc. Then it headed straight down, as graceful as an Olympic diver.
“Bomb!” I shrieked, but it was too late. Something blurred through the sky, leaving a dark green trail behind it. Wahib screamed and covered his head, ducking. Absurdly, I almost wanted to laugh when I saw that. As if ducking and covering his head would protect him from a bomb if it landed on our heads.
But the blur landed at the next house over, falling through the air so fast that I didn’t even have time to react. A flash and a sense of blinding heat consumed everything. I felt myself falling. I tried yelling, but I couldn’t hear my own screams over the cacophony of the blast. The smell of smoke and jet fuel and charred wood hung thick in the air like a cloud.
I don’t know how long I lay on the roof like that, just breathing, stunned and shell-shocked. But I came back quickly, blinking my eyes to clear the smoke and dust filling the air. I looked over at my neighbor’s house and saw an inferno of dancing flames. In the center, an enormous eye of fire swirled like a hurricane.
Screams echoed through the street. Then the front door opened and a young girl ran out, her body aflame, her hair lit up like a torch. Her skin blackened and melted as the fire consumed her. I could see drops of liquified fat and sizzling blood dripping off her nose. Her screams seemed to go on forever. Even now, when I close my eyes, I still hear it: the horror, the agony and the terror in that young girl’s voice as she died.
Wahib was suddenly standing over me, his shoulder-length black hair covered in tiny pieces of brick and gray dust. He blinked quickly, his eyes tearing up. He tried to say something, but only succeeded in coughing. Bent over, he retched, spitting up clear water.
I stumbled to my feet, pushing myself slowly up. I felt light-headed and dizzy. The Sun seemed far too bright, the air too hot. I thought I might pass out for a moment, but I steadied myself and focused on my breathing. Wahib straightened and looked me in the eyes.
“We need to leave- today. Right now,” he whispered, sounding as if he had sand in his throat. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I only nodded.
***
I told my mother I was leaving within a few hours. She didn’t look surprised, but her eyes grew misty.
“Make it out alive,” she said. “If you can make it to the EU, you will find peace and prosperity there. Not like this place.” She motioned out the window to the destroyed cars and piles of rubble littering the streets.
“But what will happen to you?” I asked, feeling sick. The first tears slipped down my cheeks. “Who will take care of you?” She just shook her head.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done so for fifty years already, haven’t I?” I gave her a weak smile as Wahib came in the door, carrying a backpack filled with supplies. I had my own backpack on already. I gave my mother a hug and turned to leave this desolate place behind, telling her I loved her.
I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I ever saw my mother.
***
Wahib and I set out down the road as the Sun faded behind the horizon, sending crimson streaks like drops of fresh blood dancing across the sky.
“I have a friend,” Wahib said, his dark eyes flashing, “but it will take money.”
“I brought everything I have,” I said, which was true. It wasn’t much, a few thousand dollars, but it was my entire life savings. I had worked for years to save that money.
“Well, we can get through to Egypt if we pay the man,” Wahib said. “It’s $2500 per person to get out, though.” My heart seemed to drop as he said this. Wahib just shook his head. “I know, I know, it’s all I have, too. More than I have, really. My mother gave me some of her money before I left, even though she needs it far more than me. I promised I would get a job when I got out of here and send her some of each paycheck, though.” I felt sick, thinking of losing my entire life savings in a single day. But I knew he was right. We needed to get out at any price, and we could hopefully always find higher-paying jobs somewhere else. After all, the Gazan economy was in the toilet.
We walked past apartment buildings with bare bricks exposed to the cool night air. A few one-story stucco houses with courtyards stood around us. A few hundred feet away, one of the houses had been hit by a bomb blast. Half of its roof hung askew, with the rest forming a giant, black crater in the center. Outside, the blackened shell of a moped stretched out across the sidewalk.
I noticed how empty the street was at that moment. It was highly unusual. There were always kids running around and yelling or people outside smoking or sitting. It felt like I had walked into a different world, one where everything had gone deathly silent except for my breathing and my pounding heart.
“Do you… feel something?” I asked Wahib, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shatter that silence. Wahib only nodded.
“Maybe we should turn around,” Wahib said, leaning over close to my ear and whispering. A cold spear of dread had sunken into my chest. A freezing wind blew down the desert street, carrying swirling clouds of sand as it passed.
“Where are we meeting this man?” I asked, nervous. I looked down at my hands and saw they were trembling. All the hairs on my body stood on end, as if lightning were about to strike.
“He’s only a kilometer from here,” Wahib said. I gave an exasperated hiss through my teeth. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t feel we would make it a kilometer.
I looked up at the sky, realizing I didn’t see any more Israeli planes, missiles or helicopters anymore. Other than my own heartbeat, everything had gone totally silent and dead.
I heard the slightest rustle of sand behind me, as if a foot had just barely grazed it. I turned my head and saw something that still gives me chills.
Only about ten paces behind us loomed a ten foot tall creature with gray, stone-like skin. It moved like a mannequin, and it truly looked like the thing had been carved from granite. Only its joints were able to twist and bend, with all other parts of its body staying as stiff as a statue.
It had long, narrow arms that ended in sharp fingers, each of them gleaming and as long as garden shears. Its legs were inhumanly long and thin and ended in something almost like webbed feet. It had a single, bloody eye in the center of its face that rolled with insanity, its sclera yellowed and sickly-looking.
It opened an enormous mouth, its jaw ratcheting down as if it had whirring gears built into its head. Inside that unhinged jaw, I saw row after row of baby teeth. Thousands of children’s milk teeth gleamed, six or seven rows growing side by side with each other like tumors. Many of the teeth stuck out at odd angles, and some even had tiny versions of themselves growing out of the sides.
“It’s a Golem,” Wahib hissed as he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. We started running. I looked back at the gray, nightmarish creature plodding forward. It continued to gnash its twisted, ingrown teeth at the air. “A Golem made from spirit and rock, sent by the enemy.”
“Good thing I saw it,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t. The world stayed silent and dead, as if we had entered some shadow world of emptiness, an unpopulated and eerie facsimile of normal reality.
We turned down an alleyway, still trying to find the home of the fixer who would get us into Egypt. I think both of us knew that we weren’t going anywhere, however. I knew he wouldn’t be home, just as no one else was home, just as the once-busy streets had all gone mysteriously empty.
As we got out of the winding, tight alleyway and past the stucco houses, I heard rustling again. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“He’s close,” I whispered to Wahib, who nodded grimly. We went out onto the street. There was no light anymore. The bombings had knocked out electricity. I couldn’t see far, so I didn’t notice as the eldritch abomination attacked us from behind.
I felt like I had been struck by a train. I went flying, smashing into the front door of an apartment building. I felt something in my arm crack and heard the bone snap. Gritting my teeth, I rolled on the ground as the Golem charged me. For such a large, heavy creature made of stone, it moved silently, its granite feet blurring across the sand like a whisper.
Wahib uttered a single word in some language I had never heard before- certainly not Arabic, English or Hebrew. It sounded ancient and guttural, like the word itself was a piece of the heart ripped out and made into sound.
A creature made of smokeless fire appeared in front of the charging Golem. The creature’s black body looked translucent, its limbs twisted and snake-like, its face just a mask of constantly-shifting shadows. In its heart and its eyes, I saw the orange currents of flame whirling and spinning.
“A jinn,” I whispered, amazed. Wahib had claimed he could control “his Jinn”, as he called it, but he was always afraid to bring it out. I had never seen a Jinn, and before this moment, I wasn’t even sure they really existed.
The Golem roared in fury, its deep, inhuman voice thundering across the empty streets. It brought its sharp fingers up in a swiping motion, aiming at the Jinn’s fiery eyes, but the Jinn pulled back. Its right arm stretched out like a boa constrictor, growing thinner and wispier as it wrapped around the Golem’s neck. The Golem’s giant, rolling eye bulged in its socket as its wind was cut off. It threw itself forward, tackling the Jinn to the ground. They started rolling, clawing and biting. Deep gashes appeared in the Golem’s stone skin, and the Jinn’s shadow flesh shot out small, dying blue flames when injured.
“Come on, we have to go,” Wahib whispered. I jumped, not even realizing he had snuck over to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up. I groaned softly as I looked down at my mangled, twisted arm. I felt like I had cracked a few ribs as well. Every breath hurt like fire. The sounds of the two creatures fighting followed us far down the empty, labyrinthine streets.
“Did the Golem pull us into this alternate shadow reality, do you think?” I said.
“I think that’s probably how they hunt,” Wahib said simply, his expression grim.
“So we can’t get out until the Golem dies?” He shrugged.
“This has never happened to me before, but I would think if the Golem pulled us in here, then his death should free us,” Wahib said.
“And what if they continue to fight forever, the Jinn and the Golem?” I asked. Wahib just shook his head.
I noticed I still had internet on my phone, however. I decided to write down what happened with one hand. I can’t use my other hand, and my arm is extremely swollen. A piece of the bone is poking out through the skin. I really hope I can find medical attention somehow.
All I know now is that we somehow got trapped in this empty shadow world when the Golem chose us as its victims.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
***
As the night progressed, we kept wandering through the empty, dark streets. Hours and hours passed, but the Sun never seemed to come up. We wandered for days, but couldn’t find any sign of the Jinn or the Golem.
We started going into houses and looking for weapons. One house had automatic rifles, grenades and ammo. Wahib and I both took some.
On the third day, we heard hissing like the sizzling of electricity from far away. We went forward and found the Jinn, half-dead and covered in deep gashes. The fire in his eyes had faded to almost nothing.
“The Golem has won,” it said, pointing down the road. There, I saw it standing, one arm ripped off but its eyes triumphant. It rushed at us, and Wahib and I opened fire.
It came like a runaway train pounding the street and smashed into Wahib, clawing him with its one remaining hand. He died, but as he died, he pulled the pin on a grenade.
A fiery explosion rocked the street as the Golem disappeared in the blast. With a popping sound, the world came back, the streets filled with scared and starving people.
I was home.

I have always lived in poverty and discomfort. My family used to have a house, land and enough money to live comfortably, but that was many years ago. That was before Israel bulldozed our homes and forced us into a ghetto. Now we are treated worse than animals, murdered, bombed and tortured at will by the invading army. I know this from personal experience- from the experiences of myself and my family.
My grandmother’s sister had been one of the victims of the Safsaf Massacre back in 1948, when the Israeli Army had gathered up all the people in a small town. They started by taking the young girls and women aside, ripping them out of the arms of their family. When the girls came back crying and pleading for help, their clothes ripped to shreds, the Israelis had only laughed.
That was when they started shooting the townspeople, massacring them and throwing them alive down wells. My grandmother’s sister was one of the girls that was raped and then murdered by the Israeli military in the Safsaf Massacre.
So I know exactly what Israel is capable of, what kind of sick and evil place that festering country truly is. When the bombs started falling in 2023, I knew I needed to get out of Gaza.
The day that it started, I remember my mother running in the house, saying, “Jalel! You must get out of here. The Israelis just bombed the hospital and the school. They are targeting our homes and trying to wipe us out.” I stared at her for a long moment, feeling stunned and dissociated.
“Why would they do that?” I whispered. I had hoped the Israeli war crimes were a thing of the past.
“Because they hate us, that’s why!” she hissed. “They stole everything from us- our homes, our land, our jobs, our economy. But they won’t be happy until they steal our lives, too.”
***
Within days, Israel stopped everything from going into Gaza: food, electricity, medicine, even water. I saw many people die, especially the elderly, the sick and the very young. The constant strikes from Israel on our town shattered homes into piles of crushed rubble. Within months, tens of thousands of innocent people had died.
I stood on the roof, watching as thick clouds of black smoke snaked their way up into the clouds. Jets flew overhead, shaking the ground with sonic booms. I cringed every time one came low, not knowing if it would bomb my home as well. My friend, Wahib, stood by my side.
“Can’t you use your special gift to get us out of here?” I asked Wahib. He didn’t like it when I brought up his ability and his strange, invisible friend. Wahib shook his head, not meeting my eyes.
“I won’t call it up, unless I have to,” he said, looking sad and empty. “It is a dangerous thing, and I don’t know if I can control it for long.”
“Yes, but we’re going to die if we stay here,” I whispered, my heart sinking. He nodded.
“We need to get out of Gaza before the bombs truly start falling,” Wahib responded, shaking his head. “They’re probably going to kill hundreds of thousands of us this time. Just wipe us out like dogs.” He spat, disgusted. “I only hope there’s some justice in this world.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My grandmother’s sister had never gotten justice, after all, unless she was going to receive it on the Day of Judgment. And yet, as a reward for its war crimes, Israel simply got more funding from the US. No one seemed to care about the piles of bodies they were leaving behind in every Palestinian town.
“What about your family? What about my family?” I asked, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. My mother was sick with diabetes, and with Israel cutting off all medication to Gaza, she was rapidly getting worse. Wahib only shook his head.
“We can’t help them,” he said. “We need to help ourselves. We need to get out of this hellhole immediately, before the real genocide begins. They’re going to bomb every house they can.” As if to confirm what he said, a jet flew low overhead, so close I could see the six-pointed star on its gray metal skin, so close I could smell the jet fuel and fumes. Before I could respond, though, something fell out of it in a curving arc. Then it headed straight down, as graceful as an Olympic diver.
“Bomb!” I shrieked, but it was too late. Something blurred through the sky, leaving a dark green trail behind it. Wahib screamed and covered his head, ducking. Absurdly, I almost wanted to laugh when I saw that. As if ducking and covering his head would protect him from a bomb if it landed on our heads.
But the blur landed at the next house over, falling through the air so fast that I didn’t even have time to react. A flash and a sense of blinding heat consumed everything. I felt myself falling. I tried yelling, but I couldn’t hear my own screams over the cacophony of the blast. The smell of smoke and jet fuel and charred wood hung thick in the air like a cloud.
I don’t know how long I lay on the roof like that, just breathing, stunned and shell-shocked. But I came back quickly, blinking my eyes to clear the smoke and dust filling the air. I looked over at my neighbor’s house and saw an inferno of dancing flames. In the center, an enormous eye of fire swirled like a hurricane.
Screams echoed through the street. Then the front door opened and a young girl ran out, her body aflame, her hair lit up like a torch. Her skin blackened and melted as the fire consumed her. I could see drops of liquified fat and sizzling blood dripping off her nose. Her screams seemed to go on forever. Even now, when I close my eyes, I still hear it: the horror, the agony and the terror in that young girl’s voice as she died.
Wahib was suddenly standing over me, his shoulder-length black hair covered in tiny pieces of brick and gray dust. He blinked quickly, his eyes tearing up. He tried to say something, but only succeeded in coughing. Bent over, he retched, spitting up clear water.
I stumbled to my feet, pushing myself slowly up. I felt light-headed and dizzy. The Sun seemed far too bright, the air too hot. I thought I might pass out for a moment, but I steadied myself and focused on my breathing. Wahib straightened and looked me in the eyes.
“We need to leave- today. Right now,” he whispered, sounding as if he had sand in his throat. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I only nodded.
***
I told my mother I was leaving within a few hours. She didn’t look surprised, but her eyes grew misty.
“Make it out alive,” she said. “If you can make it to the EU, you will find peace and prosperity there. Not like this place.” She motioned out the window to the destroyed cars and piles of rubble littering the streets.
“But what will happen to you?” I asked, feeling sick. The first tears slipped down my cheeks. “Who will take care of you?” She just shook her head.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done so for fifty years already, haven’t I?” I gave her a weak smile as Wahib came in the door, carrying a backpack filled with supplies. I had my own backpack on already. I gave my mother a hug and turned to leave this desolate place behind, telling her I loved her.
I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I ever saw my mother.
***
Wahib and I set out down the road as the Sun faded behind the horizon, sending crimson streaks like drops of fresh blood dancing across the sky.
“I have a friend,” Wahib said, his dark eyes flashing, “but it will take money.”
“I brought everything I have,” I said, which was true. It wasn’t much, a few thousand dollars, but it was my entire life savings. I had worked for years to save that money.
“Well, we can get through to Egypt if we pay the man,” Wahib said. “It’s $2500 per person to get out, though.” My heart seemed to drop as he said this. Wahib just shook his head. “I know, I know, it’s all I have, too. More than I have, really. My mother gave me some of her money before I left, even though she needs it far more than me. I promised I would get a job when I got out of here and send her some of each paycheck, though.” I felt sick, thinking of losing my entire life savings in a single day. But I knew he was right. We needed to get out at any price, and we could hopefully always find higher-paying jobs somewhere else. After all, the Gazan economy was in the toilet.
We walked past apartment buildings with bare bricks exposed to the cool night air. A few one-story stucco houses with courtyards stood around us. A few hundred feet away, one of the houses had been hit by a bomb blast. Half of its roof hung askew, with the rest forming a giant, black crater in the center. Outside, the blackened shell of a moped stretched out across the sidewalk.
I noticed how empty the street was at that moment. It was highly unusual. There were always kids running around and yelling or people outside smoking or sitting. It felt like I had walked into a different world, one where everything had gone deathly silent except for my breathing and my pounding heart.
“Do you… feel something?” I asked Wahib, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shatter that silence. Wahib only nodded.
“Maybe we should turn around,” Wahib said, leaning over close to my ear and whispering. A cold spear of dread had sunken into my chest. A freezing wind blew down the desert street, carrying swirling clouds of sand as it passed.
“Where are we meeting this man?” I asked, nervous. I looked down at my hands and saw they were trembling. All the hairs on my body stood on end, as if lightning were about to strike.
“He’s only a kilometer from here,” Wahib said. I gave an exasperated hiss through my teeth. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t feel we would make it a kilometer.
I looked up at the sky, realizing I didn’t see any more Israeli planes, missiles or helicopters anymore. Other than my own heartbeat, everything had gone totally silent and dead.
I heard the slightest rustle of sand behind me, as if a foot had just barely grazed it. I turned my head and saw something that still gives me chills.
Only about ten paces behind us loomed a ten foot tall creature with gray, stone-like skin. It moved like a mannequin, and it truly looked like the thing had been carved from granite. Only its joints were able to twist and bend, with all other parts of its body staying as stiff as a statue.
It had long, narrow arms that ended in sharp fingers, each of them gleaming and as long as garden shears. Its legs were inhumanly long and thin and ended in something almost like webbed feet. It had a single, bloody eye in the center of its face that rolled with insanity, its sclera yellowed and sickly-looking.
It opened an enormous mouth, its jaw ratcheting down as if it had whirring gears built into its head. Inside that unhinged jaw, I saw row after row of baby teeth. Thousands of children’s milk teeth gleamed, six or seven rows growing side by side with each other like tumors. Many of the teeth stuck out at odd angles, and some even had tiny versions of themselves growing out of the sides.
“It’s a Golem,” Wahib hissed as he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. We started running. I looked back at the gray, nightmarish creature plodding forward. It continued to gnash its twisted, ingrown teeth at the air. “A Golem made from spirit and rock, sent by the enemy.”
“Good thing I saw it,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t. The world stayed silent and dead, as if we had entered some shadow world of emptiness, an unpopulated and eerie facsimile of normal reality.
We turned down an alleyway, still trying to find the home of the fixer who would get us into Egypt. I think both of us knew that we weren’t going anywhere, however. I knew he wouldn’t be home, just as no one else was home, just as the once-busy streets had all gone mysteriously empty.
As we got out of the winding, tight alleyway and past the stucco houses, I heard rustling again. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“He’s close,” I whispered to Wahib, who nodded grimly. We went out onto the street. There was no light anymore. The bombings had knocked out electricity. I couldn’t see far, so I didn’t notice as the eldritch abomination attacked us from behind.
I felt like I had been struck by a train. I went flying, smashing into the front door of an apartment building. I felt something in my arm crack and heard the bone snap. Gritting my teeth, I rolled on the ground as the Golem charged me. For such a large, heavy creature made of stone, it moved silently, its granite feet blurring across the sand like a whisper.
Wahib uttered a single word in some language I had never heard before- certainly not Arabic, English or Hebrew. It sounded ancient and guttural, like the word itself was a piece of the heart ripped out and made into sound.
A creature made of smokeless fire appeared in front of the charging Golem. The creature’s black body looked translucent, its limbs twisted and snake-like, its face just a mask of constantly-shifting shadows. In its heart and its eyes, I saw the orange currents of flame whirling and spinning.
“A jinn,” I whispered, amazed. Wahib had claimed he could control “his Jinn”, as he called it, but he was always afraid to bring it out. I had never seen a Jinn, and before this moment, I wasn’t even sure they really existed.
The Golem roared in fury, its deep, inhuman voice thundering across the empty streets. It brought its sharp fingers up in a swiping motion, aiming at the Jinn’s fiery eyes, but the Jinn pulled back. Its right arm stretched out like a boa constrictor, growing thinner and wispier as it wrapped around the Golem’s neck. The Golem’s giant, rolling eye bulged in its socket as its wind was cut off. It threw itself forward, tackling the Jinn to the ground. They started rolling, clawing and biting. Deep gashes appeared in the Golem’s stone skin, and the Jinn’s shadow flesh shot out small, dying blue flames when injured.
“Come on, we have to go,” Wahib whispered. I jumped, not even realizing he had snuck over to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up. I groaned softly as I looked down at my mangled, twisted arm. I felt like I had cracked a few ribs as well. Every breath hurt like fire. The sounds of the two creatures fighting followed us far down the empty, labyrinthine streets.
“Did the Golem pull us into this alternate shadow reality, do you think?” I said.
“I think that’s probably how they hunt,” Wahib said simply, his expression grim.
“So we can’t get out until the Golem dies?” He shrugged.
“This has never happened to me before, but I would think if the Golem pulled us in here, then his death should free us,” Wahib said.
“And what if they continue to fight forever, the Jinn and the Golem?” I asked. Wahib just shook his head.
I noticed I still had internet on my phone, however. I decided to write down what happened with one hand. I can’t use my other hand, and my arm is extremely swollen. A piece of the bone is poking out through the skin. I really hope I can find medical attention somehow.
All I know now is that we somehow got trapped in this empty shadow world when the Golem chose us as its victims.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
***
As the night progressed, we kept wandering through the empty, dark streets. Hours and hours passed, but the Sun never seemed to come up. We wandered for days, but couldn’t find any sign of the Jinn or the Golem.
We started going into houses and looking for weapons. One house had automatic rifles, grenades and ammo. Wahib and I both took some.
On the third day, we heard hissing like the sizzling of electricity from far away. We went forward and found the Jinn, half-dead and covered in deep gashes. The fire in his eyes had faded to almost nothing.
“The Golem has won,” it said, pointing down the road. There, I saw it standing, one arm ripped off but its eyes triumphant. It rushed at us, and Wahib and I opened fire.
It came like a runaway train pounding the street and smashed into Wahib, clawing him with its one remaining hand. He died, but as he died, he pulled the pin on a grenade.
A fiery explosion rocked the street as the Golem disappeared in the blast. With a popping sound, the world came back, the streets filled with scared and starving people.
I was home.

Recently I have encountered a lot of ignorance pertaining to the past and claims that are outlandish from non-Jews and Jews as well. I had a disturbing argument with an Iraqi Jew who blamed Israel for what happened to their family, knew all the facts of the Nakba but not the Farhud. Which happened more than once so the following list is for those "but everyone lived peacefully"/ "coexisted" / "if Israel didnt exist" arguments. This is an abbreviated list of Muslim Pogroms against Jews from 622 to 1967:
● 622 - 627: Ethnic cleansing of Jews from Mecca and Medina, (Jewish boys publicly inspected for pubic hair. if they had any, they were executed.)
● 629: 1st Alexandria Massacres, Egypt.
● 622 - 634: extermination of the 14 Arabian Jewish tribes.
● 822 - 861: Islamic empire passes law that Jews must wear yellow stars, (later adopted in Nazi Germany), Caliph al-Mutawakkil.
● 1106: Ali Ibn Yousef Ibn Tashifin of Merakesh decrees death penalty for any local Jew, including his Jewish Physician, and Military general.
● 1033: 1st Fez Pogrom, Morocco.
● 1148: Almohadin of Morocco gives Jews the choice of converting to Islam, or expulsion.
● 1066: Granada Massacre, Muslim occupied Spain.
● 1165 - 1178: Jews nationwide were given the choice (under new constitution) convert to Islam or die, Yemen.
● 1165: Chief Rabbi of the Maghreb burnt alive. Rambam flees for Egypt and his life.
● 1220: Tens of thousands of Jews killed by Muslims after being blamed for Mongol invasion in Turkey, Iraq, Syria, Egypt.
● 1270: Sultan Baibars of Egypt resolved to burn all the Jews, a ditch having been dug for that purpose; but at the last moment he repented, and instead exacted a heavy tribute, during the collection of which many perished.
● 1276: 2nd Fez Pogrom, Morocco.
● 1385: Khorasan Massacres, Iran.
● 1438: 1st Mellah Ghetto Massacres, North Africa.
● 1465: 3rd Fez Pogrom, Morocco (11 Jews left alive.)
● 1517: 1st Safed Pogrom, Ottoman
● 1517: 1st Hebron Pogrom, Ottoman
● 1571: Massacre executed by Marsa ibn Ghazi, Ottoman Libya.
● 1577: Passover Massacre, Ottoman Empire.
● 1588 - 1629: Mahalay Pogroms, Iran.
● 1630 - 1700: Yemenite Jews were considered "impure" and thus forbidden to touch a Muslim or their food. They were obligated to humble themselves before a Muslim, to walk to the left side, and greet him first. They could not build houses higher than a Muslim's or ride a camel or horse, and when riding on a mule or a donkey, they had to sit sideways. Upon entering the Muslim quarter a Jew had to take off his foot-gear and walk barefoot. If attacked with stones or fists by Islamic youth, a Jew was not allowed to defend himself.
●1660: 2nd Safed Pogrom, Ottoman
● 1670: Mawza expultion, Yemen.
● 1679 - 1680: Sanaa Massacres, Yemen.
● 1747: Mashhad Masacres, Iran.
● 1785: Tripoli Porom, Ottoman Libya.
● 1790 - 92: Tetouan Pogrom. Morocco. (Jews of Tetouan stripped naked, and lined up for perverts.) Jewish women were raped and beaten to death. When the Spaniards arrived, their soldiers vomitted at the corpses, which were left out to rot. Reports of corpse mutilation made by Spaniards as well.
● 1800: new decree passed in Yemen, that Jews are forbidden to wear new clothing, or good clothing. Jews are forbidden to ride mules or donkeys, and were occasionally rounded up for long marches naked through the Roob al Khali dessert.
● 1805: 1st Algeris Pogrom, Ottoman Algeria.
● 1808 2nd Mellah Ghetto Massacres, North Africa.
● 1815: 2nd Algeris Pogrom, Ottoman Algeria.
● 1820: Sahalu Lobiant Massacres, Ottoman Syria.
● 1828: Baghdad Pogrom, Ottoman Iraq.
● 1830: 3rd Algeris Pogrom, Ottoman Algeria.
● 1830: ethnic cleansing of Jews in Tabriz, Iran.
● 1834: 2nd Hebron Pogrom, Ottoman
● 1834: Safed Pogrom, Ottoman
● 1839: Massacre of the Mashadi Jews, Iran.
● 1840: Damascus, ritual killings (Muslims, along with french Christians kidnapped, tortured, and killed Jewish Children for entertainment), Ottoman Syria.
● 1840: blood libels introduced to the Muslim world from Europe.
● 1844: 1st Cairo Massacres, Ottoman Egypt.
● 1847: Dayr al-Qamar Pogrom, Ottoman Lebanon.
● 1847: ethnic cleansing of the Jews in Jerusalem, Ottoman Empire.
● 1848: 1st Damascus Pogrom, Syria.
● 1850: 1st Aleppo Pogrom, Ottoman Syria.
● 1860: 2nd Damascus Pogrom, Ottoman Syria.
● 1862: 1st Beirut Pogrom, Ottoman Lebanon.
● 1864: the looting of Safed in Ottoman Empire which included slaughtering of Jews. Began on Sunday June 15 (7 Sivan), the day after the Jewish holiday of Shavout, and lasted for the next 33 days.
● 1866: Kuzguncuk Pogrom, Ottoman Turkey.
● 1867: Barfurush Massacre, Ottoman Turkey.
● 1868: Eyub Pogrom, Ottoman Turkey.
● 1869: Tunis Massacre, Ottoman Tunisia.
● 1869: Sfax Massacre, Ottoman Tunisia.
● 1880: Marrakesh Massacre, Morocco.
● 1870: 2nd Alexandria Massacres, Ottoman Egypt.
● 1870: 1st Istanbul Pogrom, Ottoman Turkey.
● 1871: 1st Damanhur Massacres,Ottoman Egypt.
● 1872: Edrine Massacres, Ottoman Turkey.
● 1872: 1st Izmir Pogrom, Ottoman Turkey.
● 1873: 2nd Damanhur Massacres, Ottoman Egypt.
● 1874: 2nd Izmir Pogrom, Ottoman Turkey.
● 1874: 2nd Istanbul Pogrom, Ottoman Turkey.
● 1874: 2nd Beirut Pogrom,Ottoman Lebanon.
●1875: 2nd Aleppo Pogrom, Ottoman Syria.
● 1875: Jerba Island Massacre, Ottoman Tunisia.
● 1877: 3rd Damanhur Massacres,Ottoman Egypt.
● 1877: Mansura Pogrom, Ottoman Egypt.
● 1882: Homs Massacre, Ottoman Syria.
● 1882: 3rd Alexandria Massacres, Ottoman Egypt.
● 1890: 2nd Cairo Massacres, Ottoman Egypt.
● 1890, 3rd Damascus Pogrom, Ottoman Syria.
● 1891: 4th Damanahur Massacres, Ottoman Egypt.
● 1897: Tripolitania killings, Ottoman Libya.
● 1903 & 1907: Taza & Settat, pogroms, Morocco.
● 1890: Tunis Massacres, Ottoman Tunisia.
● 1901 - 1902: 3rd Cairo Massacres, Ottoman Egypt.
● 1901 - 1907: 4th Alexandria Massacres, Ottoman Egypt.
● 1903: 1st Port Sa'id Massacres, Ottoman Egypt.
● 1903 - 1940: Pogroms of Taza and Settat, Morocco.
● 1907: Casablanca, pogrom, Morocco.
● 1908: 2nd Port Said Massacres,Ottoman Egypt.
● 1910: Shiraz blood libel.
● 1911: Shiraz Pogrom.
● 1912: 4th Fez , Pogrom, Morocco.
● 1917: Baghdadi Jewish Inquisition, Ottoman Empire.
● 1918 - 1948: law passed making it illegal to raise an orphan in Jewish faith, Yemen.
● 1920: Irbid Massacres: British mandate Palestine.
● 1920 - 1930: Arab riots, British mandate Palestine.
● 1921: 1st Jaffa riots, British mandate Palestine.
● 1922: Djerba Massacres, Tunisia.
● 1928: Ikhwan Masacres, Egypt, and British mandate Palestine.
● 1928: Jewish orphans sold into slavery, and forced to convert to Islam by Muslim Brotherhood, Yemen.
● 1929: 3rd Hebron Pogrom British mandate Palestine.
● 1929 3rd Safed Pogrom, British mandate Palestine.
● 1933: 2nd Jaffa riots, British mandate Palestine.
● 1934: Thrace Pogroms, Turkey.
● 1934: 1st Farhud Massacres, Iraq.
● 1936: 3rd Jaffa riots, British mandate Palestine.
● 1936: 2nd Farhud Massacres, Iraq.
● 1938: Tiberias Pogrom, British mandate. Rioters killed 19 Jewish people in Tiberias, 11 of whom were children. The village was set aflame. According to the British: "It was systematically organized and savagely executed. Of the nineteen Jews killed, including women and children, all save four were stabbed to death. That night and the following day the troops engaged the raiding gangs".
● 1941: 3rd Farhud Massacres, Iraq.
● 1942: Mufti collaboration with the Nazis. Plays a part in the final solution.
● 1942: Struma disaster, Turkey.
● 1942: Nile delta Pogroms, Egypt.
● 1938 - 1945: Arab collaboration with the Nazis.
● 1945: 4th Cairo Massacres, Egypt.
● 1945: Tripolitania Pogrom, Libya.
● 1947: Aden Pogroms.
● 1947: 3rd Aleppo Pogrom, Syria.
● 1948: "emptying" of the Jewish quarter of Damascus, Syria.
● 1948: 1st Arab Israeli war (1 out of every 100 Jews were murdered).
● 1948: Oujda & Jerada Pogroms, Morocco.
● 1948: 1st Libyan Inquisition of Jews.
● 1951: 2nd Libyan Inquisition of Jews.
● 1955: 3rd Istanbul Pogrom, Turkey.
● 1956: 1st Egyptian Inquisition of Jews.
● 1965: 5th Fez Pogrom, Morocco.
● 1967: 2nd Egyptian Inquisition of Jews.
● 1967: Tunis riots, Tunisia.
So when they say it was like Woodstock, know that only if Woodstock was in fact the Vietnam War. Historical negationism doesn't actually erase anything, the denial of events doesn't make them less true. As I already stated this is not an exhaustive list nor a complete one, there are more by way of example Spain had several.

I have always lived in poverty and discomfort. My family used to have a house, land and enough money to live comfortably, but that was many years ago. That was before Israel bulldozed our homes and forced us into a ghetto. Now we are treated worse than animals, murdered, bombed and tortured at will by the invading army. I know this from personal experience- from the experiences of myself and my family.
My grandmother’s sister had been one of the victims of the Safsaf Massacre back in 1948, when the Israeli Army had gathered up all the people in a small town. They started by taking the young girls and women aside, ripping them out of the arms of their family. When the girls came back crying and pleading for help, their clothes ripped to shreds, the Israelis had only laughed.
That was when they started shooting the townspeople, massacring them and throwing them alive down wells. My grandmother’s sister was one of the girls that was raped and then murdered by the Israeli military in the Safsaf Massacre.
So I know exactly what Israel is capable of, what kind of sick and evil place that festering country truly is. When the bombs started falling in 2023, I knew I needed to get out of Gaza.
The day that it started, I remember my mother running in the house, saying, “Jalel! You must get out of here. The Israelis just bombed the hospital and the school. They are targeting our homes and trying to wipe us out.” I stared at her for a long moment, feeling stunned and dissociated.
“Why would they do that?” I whispered. I had hoped the Israeli war crimes were a thing of the past.
“Because they hate us, that’s why!” she hissed. “They stole everything from us- our homes, our land, our jobs, our economy. But they won’t be happy until they steal our lives, too.”
***
Within days, Israel stopped everything from going into Gaza: food, electricity, medicine, even water. I saw many people die, especially the elderly, the sick and the very young. The constant strikes from Israel on our town shattered homes into piles of crushed rubble. Within months, tens of thousands of innocent people had died.
I stood on the roof, watching as thick clouds of black smoke snaked their way up into the clouds. Jets flew overhead, shaking the ground with sonic booms. I cringed every time one came low, not knowing if it would bomb my home as well. My friend, Wahib, stood by my side.
“Can’t you use your special gift to get us out of here?” I asked Wahib. He didn’t like it when I brought up his ability and his strange, invisible friend. Wahib shook his head, not meeting my eyes.
“I won’t call it up, unless I have to,” he said, looking sad and empty. “It is a dangerous thing, and I don’t know if I can control it for long.”
“Yes, but we’re going to die if we stay here,” I whispered, my heart sinking. He nodded.
“We need to get out of Gaza before the bombs truly start falling,” Wahib responded, shaking his head. “They’re probably going to kill hundreds of thousands of us this time. Just wipe us out like dogs.” He spat, disgusted. “I only hope there’s some justice in this world.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My grandmother’s sister had never gotten justice, after all, unless she was going to receive it on the Day of Judgment. And yet, as a reward for its war crimes, Israel simply got more funding from the US. No one seemed to care about the piles of bodies they were leaving behind in every Palestinian town.
“What about your family? What about my family?” I asked, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. My mother was sick with diabetes, and with Israel cutting off all medication to Gaza, she was rapidly getting worse. Wahib only shook his head.
“We can’t help them,” he said. “We need to help ourselves. We need to get out of this hellhole immediately, before the real genocide begins. They’re going to bomb every house they can.” As if to confirm what he said, a jet flew low overhead, so close I could see the six-pointed star on its gray metal skin, so close I could smell the jet fuel and fumes. Before I could respond, though, something fell out of it in a curving arc. Then it headed straight down, as graceful as an Olympic diver.
“Bomb!” I shrieked, but it was too late. Something blurred through the sky, leaving a dark green trail behind it. Wahib screamed and covered his head, ducking. Absurdly, I almost wanted to laugh when I saw that. As if ducking and covering his head would protect him from a bomb if it landed on our heads.
But the blur landed at the next house over, falling through the air so fast that I didn’t even have time to react. A flash and a sense of blinding heat consumed everything. I felt myself falling. I tried yelling, but I couldn’t hear my own screams over the cacophony of the blast. The smell of smoke and jet fuel and charred wood hung thick in the air like a cloud.
I don’t know how long I lay on the roof like that, just breathing, stunned and shell-shocked. But I came back quickly, blinking my eyes to clear the smoke and dust filling the air. I looked over at my neighbor’s house and saw an inferno of dancing flames. In the center, an enormous eye of fire swirled like a hurricane.
Screams echoed through the street. Then the front door opened and a young girl ran out, her body aflame, her hair lit up like a torch. Her skin blackened and melted as the fire consumed her. I could see drops of liquified fat and sizzling blood dripping off her nose. Her screams seemed to go on forever. Even now, when I close my eyes, I still hear it: the horror, the agony and the terror in that young girl’s voice as she died.
Wahib was suddenly standing over me, his shoulder-length black hair covered in tiny pieces of brick and gray dust. He blinked quickly, his eyes tearing up. He tried to say something, but only succeeded in coughing. Bent over, he retched, spitting up clear water.
I stumbled to my feet, pushing myself slowly up. I felt light-headed and dizzy. The Sun seemed far too bright, the air too hot. I thought I might pass out for a moment, but I steadied myself and focused on my breathing. Wahib straightened and looked me in the eyes.
“We need to leave- today. Right now,” he whispered, sounding as if he had sand in his throat. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I only nodded.
***
I told my mother I was leaving within a few hours. She didn’t look surprised, but her eyes grew misty.
“Make it out alive,” she said. “If you can make it to the EU, you will find peace and prosperity there. Not like this place.” She motioned out the window to the destroyed cars and piles of rubble littering the streets.
“But what will happen to you?” I asked, feeling sick. The first tears slipped down my cheeks. “Who will take care of you?” She just shook her head.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done so for fifty years already, haven’t I?” I gave her a weak smile as Wahib came in the door, carrying a backpack filled with supplies. I had my own backpack on already. I gave my mother a hug and turned to leave this desolate place behind, telling her I loved her.
I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I ever saw my mother.
***
Wahib and I set out down the road as the Sun faded behind the horizon, sending crimson streaks like drops of fresh blood dancing across the sky.
“I have a friend,” Wahib said, his dark eyes flashing, “but it will take money.”
“I brought everything I have,” I said, which was true. It wasn’t much, a few thousand dollars, but it was my entire life savings. I had worked for years to save that money.
“Well, we can get through to Egypt if we pay the man,” Wahib said. “It’s $2500 per person to get out, though.” My heart seemed to drop as he said this. Wahib just shook his head. “I know, I know, it’s all I have, too. More than I have, really. My mother gave me some of her money before I left, even though she needs it far more than me. I promised I would get a job when I got out of here and send her some of each paycheck, though.” I felt sick, thinking of losing my entire life savings in a single day. But I knew he was right. We needed to get out at any price, and we could hopefully always find higher-paying jobs somewhere else. After all, the Gazan economy was in the toilet.
We walked past apartment buildings with bare bricks exposed to the cool night air. A few one-story stucco houses with courtyards stood around us. A few hundred feet away, one of the houses had been hit by a bomb blast. Half of its roof hung askew, with the rest forming a giant, black crater in the center. Outside, the blackened shell of a moped stretched out across the sidewalk.
I noticed how empty the street was at that moment. It was highly unusual. There were always kids running around and yelling or people outside smoking or sitting. It felt like I had walked into a different world, one where everything had gone deathly silent except for my breathing and my pounding heart.
“Do you… feel something?” I asked Wahib, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shatter that silence. Wahib only nodded.
“Maybe we should turn around,” Wahib said, leaning over close to my ear and whispering. A cold spear of dread had sunken into my chest. A freezing wind blew down the desert street, carrying swirling clouds of sand as it passed.
“Where are we meeting this man?” I asked, nervous. I looked down at my hands and saw they were trembling. All the hairs on my body stood on end, as if lightning were about to strike.
“He’s only a kilometer from here,” Wahib said. I gave an exasperated hiss through my teeth. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t feel we would make it a kilometer.
I looked up at the sky, realizing I didn’t see any more Israeli planes, missiles or helicopters anymore. Other than my own heartbeat, everything had gone totally silent and dead.
I heard the slightest rustle of sand behind me, as if a foot had just barely grazed it. I turned my head and saw something that still gives me chills.
Only about ten paces behind us loomed a ten foot tall creature with gray, stone-like skin. It moved like a mannequin, and it truly looked like the thing had been carved from granite. Only its joints were able to twist and bend, with all other parts of its body staying as stiff as a statue.
It had long, narrow arms that ended in sharp fingers, each of them gleaming and as long as garden shears. Its legs were inhumanly long and thin and ended in something almost like webbed feet. It had a single, bloody eye in the center of its face that rolled with insanity, its sclera yellowed and sickly-looking.
It opened an enormous mouth, its jaw ratcheting down as if it had whirring gears built into its head. Inside that unhinged jaw, I saw row after row of baby teeth. Thousands of children’s milk teeth gleamed, six or seven rows growing side by side with each other like tumors. Many of the teeth stuck out at odd angles, and some even had tiny versions of themselves growing out of the sides.
“It’s a Golem,” Wahib hissed as he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. We started running. I looked back at the gray, nightmarish creature plodding forward. It continued to gnash its twisted, ingrown teeth at the air. “A Golem made from spirit and rock, sent by the enemy.”
“Good thing I saw it,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t. The world stayed silent and dead, as if we had entered some shadow world of emptiness, an unpopulated and eerie facsimile of normal reality.
We turned down an alleyway, still trying to find the home of the fixer who would get us into Egypt. I think both of us knew that we weren’t going anywhere, however. I knew he wouldn’t be home, just as no one else was home, just as the once-busy streets had all gone mysteriously empty.
As we got out of the winding, tight alleyway and past the stucco houses, I heard rustling again. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“He’s close,” I whispered to Wahib, who nodded grimly. We went out onto the street. There was no light anymore. The bombings had knocked out electricity. I couldn’t see far, so I didn’t notice as the eldritch abomination attacked us from behind.
I felt like I had been struck by a train. I went flying, smashing into the front door of an apartment building. I felt something in my arm crack and heard the bone snap. Gritting my teeth, I rolled on the ground as the Golem charged me. For such a large, heavy creature made of stone, it moved silently, its granite feet blurring across the sand like a whisper.
Wahib uttered a single word in some language I had never heard before- certainly not Arabic, English or Hebrew. It sounded ancient and guttural, like the word itself was a piece of the heart ripped out and made into sound.
A creature made of smokeless fire appeared in front of the charging Golem. The creature’s black body looked translucent, its limbs twisted and snake-like, its face just a mask of constantly-shifting shadows. In its heart and its eyes, I saw the orange currents of flame whirling and spinning.
“A jinn,” I whispered, amazed. Wahib had claimed he could control “his Jinn”, as he called it, but he was always afraid to bring it out. I had never seen a Jinn, and before this moment, I wasn’t even sure they really existed.
The Golem roared in fury, its deep, inhuman voice thundering across the empty streets. It brought its sharp fingers up in a swiping motion, aiming at the Jinn’s fiery eyes, but the Jinn pulled back. Its right arm stretched out like a boa constrictor, growing thinner and wispier as it wrapped around the Golem’s neck. The Golem’s giant, rolling eye bulged in its socket as its wind was cut off. It threw itself forward, tackling the Jinn to the ground. They started rolling, clawing and biting. Deep gashes appeared in the Golem’s stone skin, and the Jinn’s shadow flesh shot out small, dying blue flames when injured.
“Come on, we have to go,” Wahib whispered. I jumped, not even realizing he had snuck over to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up. I groaned softly as I looked down at my mangled, twisted arm. I felt like I had cracked a few ribs as well. Every breath hurt like fire. The sounds of the two creatures fighting followed us far down the empty, labyrinthine streets.
“Did the Golem pull us into this alternate shadow reality, do you think?” I said.
“I think that’s probably how they hunt,” Wahib said simply, his expression grim.
“So we can’t get out until the Golem dies?” He shrugged.
“This has never happened to me before, but I would think if the Golem pulled us in here, then his death should free us,” Wahib said.
“And what if they continue to fight forever, the Jinn and the Golem?” I asked. Wahib just shook his head.
I noticed I still had internet on my phone, however. I decided to write down what happened with one hand. I can’t use my other hand, and my arm is extremely swollen. A piece of the bone is poking out through the skin. I really hope I can find medical attention somehow.
All I know now is that we somehow got trapped in this empty shadow world when the Golem chose us as its victims.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
***
As the night progressed, we kept wandering through the empty, dark streets. Hours and hours passed, but the Sun never seemed to come up. We wandered for days, but couldn’t find any sign of the Jinn or the Golem.
We started going into houses and looking for weapons. One house had automatic rifles, grenades and ammo. Wahib and I both took some.
On the third day, we heard hissing like the sizzling of electricity from far away. We went forward and found the Jinn, half-dead and covered in deep gashes. The fire in his eyes had faded to almost nothing.
“The Golem has won,” it said, pointing down the road. There, I saw it standing, one arm ripped off but its eyes triumphant. It rushed at us, and Wahib and I opened fire.
It came like a runaway train pounding the street and smashed into Wahib, clawing him with its one remaining hand. He died, but as he died, he pulled the pin on a grenade.
A fiery explosion rocked the street as the Golem disappeared in the blast. With a popping sound, the world came back, the streets filled with scared and starving people.
I was home.

I have always lived in poverty and discomfort. My family used to have a house, land and enough money to live comfortably, but that was many years ago. That was before Israel bulldozed our homes and forced us into a ghetto. Now we are treated worse than animals, murdered, bombed and tortured at will by the invading army. I know this from personal experience- from the experiences of myself and my family.
My grandmother’s sister had been one of the victims of the Safsaf Massacre back in 1948, when the Israeli Army had gathered up all the people in a small town. They started by taking the young girls and women aside, ripping them out of the arms of their family. When the girls came back crying and pleading for help, their clothes ripped to shreds, the Israelis had only laughed.
That was when they started shooting the townspeople, massacring them and throwing them alive down wells. My grandmother’s sister was one of the girls that was raped and then murdered by the Israeli military in the Safsaf Massacre.
So I know exactly what Israel is capable of, what kind of sick and evil place that festering country truly is. When the bombs started falling in 2023, I knew I needed to get out of Gaza.
The day that it started, I remember my mother running in the house, saying, “Jalel! You must get out of here. The Israelis just bombed the hospital and the school. They are targeting our homes and trying to wipe us out.” I stared at her for a long moment, feeling stunned and dissociated.
“Why would they do that?” I whispered. I had hoped the Israeli war crimes were a thing of the past.
“Because they hate us, that’s why!” she hissed. “They stole everything from us- our homes, our land, our jobs, our economy. But they won’t be happy until they steal our lives, too.”
***
Within days, Israel stopped everything from going into Gaza: food, electricity, medicine, even water. I saw many people die, especially the elderly, the sick and the very young. The constant strikes from Israel on our town shattered homes into piles of crushed rubble. Within months, tens of thousands of innocent people had died.
I stood on the roof, watching as thick clouds of black smoke snaked their way up into the clouds. Jets flew overhead, shaking the ground with sonic booms. I cringed every time one came low, not knowing if it would bomb my home as well. My friend, Wahib, stood by my side.
“Can’t you use your special gift to get us out of here?” I asked Wahib. He didn’t like it when I brought up his ability and his strange, invisible friend. Wahib shook his head, not meeting my eyes.
“I won’t call it up, unless I have to,” he said, looking sad and empty. “It is a dangerous thing, and I don’t know if I can control it for long.”
“Yes, but we’re going to die if we stay here,” I whispered, my heart sinking. He nodded.
“We need to get out of Gaza before the bombs truly start falling,” Wahib responded, shaking his head. “They’re probably going to kill hundreds of thousands of us this time. Just wipe us out like dogs.” He spat, disgusted. “I only hope there’s some justice in this world.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My grandmother’s sister had never gotten justice, after all, unless she was going to receive it on the Day of Judgment. And yet, as a reward for its war crimes, Israel simply got more funding from the US. No one seemed to care about the piles of bodies they were leaving behind in every Palestinian town.
“What about your family? What about my family?” I asked, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. My mother was sick with diabetes, and with Israel cutting off all medication to Gaza, she was rapidly getting worse. Wahib only shook his head.
“We can’t help them,” he said. “We need to help ourselves. We need to get out of this hellhole immediately, before the real genocide begins. They’re going to bomb every house they can.” As if to confirm what he said, a jet flew low overhead, so close I could see the six-pointed star on its gray metal skin, so close I could smell the jet fuel and fumes. Before I could respond, though, something fell out of it in a curving arc. Then it headed straight down, as graceful as an Olympic diver.
“Bomb!” I shrieked, but it was too late. Something blurred through the sky, leaving a dark green trail behind it. Wahib screamed and covered his head, ducking. Absurdly, I almost wanted to laugh when I saw that. As if ducking and covering his head would protect him from a bomb if it landed on our heads.
But the blur landed at the next house over, falling through the air so fast that I didn’t even have time to react. A flash and a sense of blinding heat consumed everything. I felt myself falling. I tried yelling, but I couldn’t hear my own screams over the cacophony of the blast. The smell of smoke and jet fuel and charred wood hung thick in the air like a cloud.
I don’t know how long I lay on the roof like that, just breathing, stunned and shell-shocked. But I came back quickly, blinking my eyes to clear the smoke and dust filling the air. I looked over at my neighbor’s house and saw an inferno of dancing flames. In the center, an enormous eye of fire swirled like a hurricane.
Screams echoed through the street. Then the front door opened and a young girl ran out, her body aflame, her hair lit up like a torch. Her skin blackened and melted as the fire consumed her. I could see drops of liquified fat and sizzling blood dripping off her nose. Her screams seemed to go on forever. Even now, when I close my eyes, I still hear it: the horror, the agony and the terror in that young girl’s voice as she died.
Wahib was suddenly standing over me, his shoulder-length black hair covered in tiny pieces of brick and gray dust. He blinked quickly, his eyes tearing up. He tried to say something, but only succeeded in coughing. Bent over, he retched, spitting up clear water.
I stumbled to my feet, pushing myself slowly up. I felt light-headed and dizzy. The Sun seemed far too bright, the air too hot. I thought I might pass out for a moment, but I steadied myself and focused on my breathing. Wahib straightened and looked me in the eyes.
“We need to leave- today. Right now,” he whispered, sounding as if he had sand in his throat. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I only nodded.
***
I told my mother I was leaving within a few hours. She didn’t look surprised, but her eyes grew misty.
“Make it out alive,” she said. “If you can make it to the EU, you will find peace and prosperity there. Not like this place.” She motioned out the window to the destroyed cars and piles of rubble littering the streets.
“But what will happen to you?” I asked, feeling sick. The first tears slipped down my cheeks. “Who will take care of you?” She just shook her head.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done so for fifty years already, haven’t I?” I gave her a weak smile as Wahib came in the door, carrying a backpack filled with supplies. I had my own backpack on already. I gave my mother a hug and turned to leave this desolate place behind, telling her I loved her.
I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I ever saw my mother.
***
Wahib and I set out down the road as the Sun faded behind the horizon, sending crimson streaks like drops of fresh blood dancing across the sky.
“I have a friend,” Wahib said, his dark eyes flashing, “but it will take money.”
“I brought everything I have,” I said, which was true. It wasn’t much, a few thousand dollars, but it was my entire life savings. I had worked for years to save that money.
“Well, we can get through to Egypt if we pay the man,” Wahib said. “It’s $2500 per person to get out, though.” My heart seemed to drop as he said this. Wahib just shook his head. “I know, I know, it’s all I have, too. More than I have, really. My mother gave me some of her money before I left, even though she needs it far more than me. I promised I would get a job when I got out of here and send her some of each paycheck, though.” I felt sick, thinking of losing my entire life savings in a single day. But I knew he was right. We needed to get out at any price, and we could hopefully always find higher-paying jobs somewhere else. After all, the Gazan economy was in the toilet.
We walked past apartment buildings with bare bricks exposed to the cool night air. A few one-story stucco houses with courtyards stood around us. A few hundred feet away, one of the houses had been hit by a bomb blast. Half of its roof hung askew, with the rest forming a giant, black crater in the center. Outside, the blackened shell of a moped stretched out across the sidewalk.
I noticed how empty the street was at that moment. It was highly unusual. There were always kids running around and yelling or people outside smoking or sitting. It felt like I had walked into a different world, one where everything had gone deathly silent except for my breathing and my pounding heart.
“Do you… feel something?” I asked Wahib, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shatter that silence. Wahib only nodded.
“Maybe we should turn around,” Wahib said, leaning over close to my ear and whispering. A cold spear of dread had sunken into my chest. A freezing wind blew down the desert street, carrying swirling clouds of sand as it passed.
“Where are we meeting this man?” I asked, nervous. I looked down at my hands and saw they were trembling. All the hairs on my body stood on end, as if lightning were about to strike.
“He’s only a kilometer from here,” Wahib said. I gave an exasperated hiss through my teeth. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t feel we would make it a kilometer.
I looked up at the sky, realizing I didn’t see any more Israeli planes, missiles or helicopters anymore. Other than my own heartbeat, everything had gone totally silent and dead.
I heard the slightest rustle of sand behind me, as if a foot had just barely grazed it. I turned my head and saw something that still gives me chills.
Only about ten paces behind us loomed a ten foot tall creature with gray, stone-like skin. It moved like a mannequin, and it truly looked like the thing had been carved from granite. Only its joints were able to twist and bend, with all other parts of its body staying as stiff as a statue.
It had long, narrow arms that ended in sharp fingers, each of them gleaming and as long as garden shears. Its legs were inhumanly long and thin and ended in something almost like webbed feet. It had a single, bloody eye in the center of its face that rolled with insanity, its sclera yellowed and sickly-looking.
It opened an enormous mouth, its jaw ratcheting down as if it had whirring gears built into its head. Inside that unhinged jaw, I saw row after row of baby teeth. Thousands of children’s milk teeth gleamed, six or seven rows growing side by side with each other like tumors. Many of the teeth stuck out at odd angles, and some even had tiny versions of themselves growing out of the sides.
“It’s a Golem,” Wahib hissed as he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. We started running. I looked back at the gray, nightmarish creature plodding forward. It continued to gnash its twisted, ingrown teeth at the air. “A Golem made from spirit and rock, sent by the enemy.”
“Good thing I saw it,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t. The world stayed silent and dead, as if we had entered some shadow world of emptiness, an unpopulated and eerie facsimile of normal reality.
We turned down an alleyway, still trying to find the home of the fixer who would get us into Egypt. I think both of us knew that we weren’t going anywhere, however. I knew he wouldn’t be home, just as no one else was home, just as the once-busy streets had all gone mysteriously empty.
As we got out of the winding, tight alleyway and past the stucco houses, I heard rustling again. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“He’s close,” I whispered to Wahib, who nodded grimly. We went out onto the street. There was no light anymore. The bombings had knocked out electricity. I couldn’t see far, so I didn’t notice as the eldritch abomination attacked us from behind.
I felt like I had been struck by a train. I went flying, smashing into the front door of an apartment building. I felt something in my arm crack and heard the bone snap. Gritting my teeth, I rolled on the ground as the Golem charged me. For such a large, heavy creature made of stone, it moved silently, its granite feet blurring across the sand like a whisper.
Wahib uttered a single word in some language I had never heard before- certainly not Arabic, English or Hebrew. It sounded ancient and guttural, like the word itself was a piece of the heart ripped out and made into sound.
A creature made of smokeless fire appeared in front of the charging Golem. The creature’s black body looked translucent, its limbs twisted and snake-like, its face just a mask of constantly-shifting shadows. In its heart and its eyes, I saw the orange currents of flame whirling and spinning.
“A jinn,” I whispered, amazed. Wahib had claimed he could control “his Jinn”, as he called it, but he was always afraid to bring it out. I had never seen a Jinn, and before this moment, I wasn’t even sure they really existed.
The Golem roared in fury, its deep, inhuman voice thundering across the empty streets. It brought its sharp fingers up in a swiping motion, aiming at the Jinn’s fiery eyes, but the Jinn pulled back. Its right arm stretched out like a boa constrictor, growing thinner and wispier as it wrapped around the Golem’s neck. The Golem’s giant, rolling eye bulged in its socket as its wind was cut off. It threw itself forward, tackling the Jinn to the ground. They started rolling, clawing and biting. Deep gashes appeared in the Golem’s stone skin, and the Jinn’s shadow flesh shot out small, dying blue flames when injured.
“Come on, we have to go,” Wahib whispered. I jumped, not even realizing he had snuck over to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up. I groaned softly as I looked down at my mangled, twisted arm. I felt like I had cracked a few ribs as well. Every breath hurt like fire. The sounds of the two creatures fighting followed us far down the empty, labyrinthine streets.
“Did the Golem pull us into this alternate shadow reality, do you think?” I said.
“I think that’s probably how they hunt,” Wahib said simply, his expression grim.
“So we can’t get out until the Golem dies?” He shrugged.
“This has never happened to me before, but I would think if the Golem pulled us in here, then his death should free us,” Wahib said.
“And what if they continue to fight forever, the Jinn and the Golem?” I asked. Wahib just shook his head.
I noticed I still had internet on my phone, however. I decided to write down what happened with one hand. I can’t use my other hand, and my arm is extremely swollen. A piece of the bone is poking out through the skin. I really hope I can find medical attention somehow.
All I know now is that we somehow got trapped in this empty shadow world when the Golem chose us as its victims.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
***
As the night progressed, we kept wandering through the empty, dark streets. Hours and hours passed, but the Sun never seemed to come up. We wandered for days, but couldn’t find any sign of the Jinn or the Golem.
We started going into houses and looking for weapons. One house had automatic rifles, grenades and ammo. Wahib and I both took some.
On the third day, we heard hissing like the sizzling of electricity from far away. We went forward and found the Jinn, half-dead and covered in deep gashes. The fire in his eyes had faded to almost nothing.
“The Golem has won,” it said, pointing down the road. There, I saw it standing, one arm ripped off but its eyes triumphant. It rushed at us, and Wahib and I opened fire.
It came like a runaway train pounding the street and smashed into Wahib, clawing him with its one remaining hand. He died, but as he died, he pulled the pin on a grenade.
A fiery explosion rocked the street as the Golem disappeared in the blast. With a popping sound, the world came back, the streets filled with scared and starving people.
I was home.

I have always lived in poverty and discomfort. My family used to have a house, land and enough money to live comfortably, but that was many years ago. That was before Israel bulldozed our homes and forced us into a ghetto. Now we are treated worse than animals, murdered, bombed and tortured at will by the invading army. I know this from personal experience- from the experiences of myself and my family.
My grandmother’s sister had been one of the victims of the Safsaf Massacre back in 1948, when the Israeli Army had gathered up all the people in a small town. They started by taking the young girls and women aside, ripping them out of the arms of their family. When the girls came back crying and pleading for help, their clothes ripped to shreds, the Israelis had only laughed.
That was when they started shooting the townspeople, massacring them and throwing them alive down wells. My grandmother’s sister was one of the girls that was raped and then murdered by the Israeli military in the Safsaf Massacre.
So I know exactly what Israel is capable of, what kind of sick and evil place that festering country truly is. When the bombs started falling in 2023, I knew I needed to get out of Gaza.
The day that it started, I remember my mother running in the house, saying, “Jalel! You must get out of here. The Israelis just bombed the hospital and the school. They are targeting our homes and trying to wipe us out.” I stared at her for a long moment, feeling stunned and dissociated.
“Why would they do that?” I whispered. I had hoped the Israeli war crimes were a thing of the past.
“Because they hate us, that’s why!” she hissed. “They stole everything from us- our homes, our land, our jobs, our economy. But they won’t be happy until they steal our lives, too.”
***
Within days, Israel stopped everything from going into Gaza: food, electricity, medicine, even water. I saw many people die, especially the elderly, the sick and the very young. The constant strikes from Israel on our town shattered homes into piles of crushed rubble. Within months, tens of thousands of innocent people had died.
I stood on the roof, watching as thick clouds of black smoke snaked their way up into the clouds. Jets flew overhead, shaking the ground with sonic booms. I cringed every time one came low, not knowing if it would bomb my home as well. My friend, Wahib, stood by my side.
“Can’t you use your special gift to get us out of here?” I asked Wahib. He didn’t like it when I brought up his ability and his strange, invisible friend. Wahib shook his head, not meeting my eyes.
“I won’t call it up, unless I have to,” he said, looking sad and empty. “It is a dangerous thing, and I don’t know if I can control it for long.”
“Yes, but we’re going to die if we stay here,” I whispered, my heart sinking. He nodded.
“We need to get out of Gaza before the bombs truly start falling,” Wahib responded, shaking his head. “They’re probably going to kill hundreds of thousands of us this time. Just wipe us out like dogs.” He spat, disgusted. “I only hope there’s some justice in this world.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My grandmother’s sister had never gotten justice, after all, unless she was going to receive it on the Day of Judgment. And yet, as a reward for its war crimes, Israel simply got more funding from the US. No one seemed to care about the piles of bodies they were leaving behind in every Palestinian town.
“What about your family? What about my family?” I asked, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. My mother was sick with diabetes, and with Israel cutting off all medication to Gaza, she was rapidly getting worse. Wahib only shook his head.
“We can’t help them,” he said. “We need to help ourselves. We need to get out of this hellhole immediately, before the real genocide begins. They’re going to bomb every house they can.” As if to confirm what he said, a jet flew low overhead, so close I could see the six-pointed star on its gray metal skin, so close I could smell the jet fuel and fumes. Before I could respond, though, something fell out of it in a curving arc. Then it headed straight down, as graceful as an Olympic diver.
“Bomb!” I shrieked, but it was too late. Something blurred through the sky, leaving a dark green trail behind it. Wahib screamed and covered his head, ducking. Absurdly, I almost wanted to laugh when I saw that. As if ducking and covering his head would protect him from a bomb if it landed on our heads.
But the blur landed at the next house over, falling through the air so fast that I didn’t even have time to react. A flash and a sense of blinding heat consumed everything. I felt myself falling. I tried yelling, but I couldn’t hear my own screams over the cacophony of the blast. The smell of smoke and jet fuel and charred wood hung thick in the air like a cloud.
I don’t know how long I lay on the roof like that, just breathing, stunned and shell-shocked. But I came back quickly, blinking my eyes to clear the smoke and dust filling the air. I looked over at my neighbor’s house and saw an inferno of dancing flames. In the center, an enormous eye of fire swirled like a hurricane.
Screams echoed through the street. Then the front door opened and a young girl ran out, her body aflame, her hair lit up like a torch. Her skin blackened and melted as the fire consumed her. I could see drops of liquified fat and sizzling blood dripping off her nose. Her screams seemed to go on forever. Even now, when I close my eyes, I still hear it: the horror, the agony and the terror in that young girl’s voice as she died.
Wahib was suddenly standing over me, his shoulder-length black hair covered in tiny pieces of brick and gray dust. He blinked quickly, his eyes tearing up. He tried to say something, but only succeeded in coughing. Bent over, he retched, spitting up clear water.
I stumbled to my feet, pushing myself slowly up. I felt light-headed and dizzy. The Sun seemed far too bright, the air too hot. I thought I might pass out for a moment, but I steadied myself and focused on my breathing. Wahib straightened and looked me in the eyes.
“We need to leave- today. Right now,” he whispered, sounding as if he had sand in his throat. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I only nodded.
***
I told my mother I was leaving within a few hours. She didn’t look surprised, but her eyes grew misty.
“Make it out alive,” she said. “If you can make it to the EU, you will find peace and prosperity there. Not like this place.” She motioned out the window to the destroyed cars and piles of rubble littering the streets.
“But what will happen to you?” I asked, feeling sick. The first tears slipped down my cheeks. “Who will take care of you?” She just shook her head.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done so for fifty years already, haven’t I?” I gave her a weak smile as Wahib came in the door, carrying a backpack filled with supplies. I had my own backpack on already. I gave my mother a hug and turned to leave this desolate place behind, telling her I loved her.
I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I ever saw my mother.
***
Wahib and I set out down the road as the Sun faded behind the horizon, sending crimson streaks like drops of fresh blood dancing across the sky.
“I have a friend,” Wahib said, his dark eyes flashing, “but it will take money.”
“I brought everything I have,” I said, which was true. It wasn’t much, a few thousand dollars, but it was my entire life savings. I had worked for years to save that money.
“Well, we can get through to Egypt if we pay the man,” Wahib said. “It’s $2500 per person to get out, though.” My heart seemed to drop as he said this. Wahib just shook his head. “I know, I know, it’s all I have, too. More than I have, really. My mother gave me some of her money before I left, even though she needs it far more than me. I promised I would get a job when I got out of here and send her some of each paycheck, though.” I felt sick, thinking of losing my entire life savings in a single day. But I knew he was right. We needed to get out at any price, and we could hopefully always find higher-paying jobs somewhere else. After all, the Gazan economy was in the toilet.
We walked past apartment buildings with bare bricks exposed to the cool night air. A few one-story stucco houses with courtyards stood around us. A few hundred feet away, one of the houses had been hit by a bomb blast. Half of its roof hung askew, with the rest forming a giant, black crater in the center. Outside, the blackened shell of a moped stretched out across the sidewalk.
I noticed how empty the street was at that moment. It was highly unusual. There were always kids running around and yelling or people outside smoking or sitting. It felt like I had walked into a different world, one where everything had gone deathly silent except for my breathing and my pounding heart.
“Do you… feel something?” I asked Wahib, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shatter that silence. Wahib only nodded.
“Maybe we should turn around,” Wahib said, leaning over close to my ear and whispering. A cold spear of dread had sunken into my chest. A freezing wind blew down the desert street, carrying swirling clouds of sand as it passed.
“Where are we meeting this man?” I asked, nervous. I looked down at my hands and saw they were trembling. All the hairs on my body stood on end, as if lightning were about to strike.
“He’s only a kilometer from here,” Wahib said. I gave an exasperated hiss through my teeth. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t feel we would make it a kilometer.
I looked up at the sky, realizing I didn’t see any more Israeli planes, missiles or helicopters anymore. Other than my own heartbeat, everything had gone totally silent and dead.
I heard the slightest rustle of sand behind me, as if a foot had just barely grazed it. I turned my head and saw something that still gives me chills.
Only about ten paces behind us loomed a ten foot tall creature with gray, stone-like skin. It moved like a mannequin, and it truly looked like the thing had been carved from granite. Only its joints were able to twist and bend, with all other parts of its body staying as stiff as a statue.
It had long, narrow arms that ended in sharp fingers, each of them gleaming and as long as garden shears. Its legs were inhumanly long and thin and ended in something almost like webbed feet. It had a single, bloody eye in the center of its face that rolled with insanity, its sclera yellowed and sickly-looking.
It opened an enormous mouth, its jaw ratcheting down as if it had whirring gears built into its head. Inside that unhinged jaw, I saw row after row of baby teeth. Thousands of children’s milk teeth gleamed, six or seven rows growing side by side with each other like tumors. Many of the teeth stuck out at odd angles, and some even had tiny versions of themselves growing out of the sides.
“It’s a Golem,” Wahib hissed as he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. We started running. I looked back at the gray, nightmarish creature plodding forward. It continued to gnash its twisted, ingrown teeth at the air. “A Golem made from spirit and rock, sent by the enemy.”
“Good thing I saw it,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t. The world stayed silent and dead, as if we had entered some shadow world of emptiness, an unpopulated and eerie facsimile of normal reality.
We turned down an alleyway, still trying to find the home of the fixer who would get us into Egypt. I think both of us knew that we weren’t going anywhere, however. I knew he wouldn’t be home, just as no one else was home, just as the once-busy streets had all gone mysteriously empty.
As we got out of the winding, tight alleyway and past the stucco houses, I heard rustling again. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“He’s close,” I whispered to Wahib, who nodded grimly. We went out onto the street. There was no light anymore. The bombings had knocked out electricity. I couldn’t see far, so I didn’t notice as the eldritch abomination attacked us from behind.
I felt like I had been struck by a train. I went flying, smashing into the front door of an apartment building. I felt something in my arm crack and heard the bone snap. Gritting my teeth, I rolled on the ground as the Golem charged me. For such a large, heavy creature made of stone, it moved silently, its granite feet blurring across the sand like a whisper.
Wahib uttered a single word in some language I had never heard before- certainly not Arabic, English or Hebrew. It sounded ancient and guttural, like the word itself was a piece of the heart ripped out and made into sound.
A creature made of smokeless fire appeared in front of the charging Golem. The creature’s black body looked translucent, its limbs twisted and snake-like, its face just a mask of constantly-shifting shadows. In its heart and its eyes, I saw the orange currents of flame whirling and spinning.
“A jinn,” I whispered, amazed. Wahib had claimed he could control “his Jinn”, as he called it, but he was always afraid to bring it out. I had never seen a Jinn, and before this moment, I wasn’t even sure they really existed.
The Golem roared in fury, its deep, inhuman voice thundering across the empty streets. It brought its sharp fingers up in a swiping motion, aiming at the Jinn’s fiery eyes, but the Jinn pulled back. Its right arm stretched out like a boa constrictor, growing thinner and wispier as it wrapped around the Golem’s neck. The Golem’s giant, rolling eye bulged in its socket as its wind was cut off. It threw itself forward, tackling the Jinn to the ground. They started rolling, clawing and biting. Deep gashes appeared in the Golem’s stone skin, and the Jinn’s shadow flesh shot out small, dying blue flames when injured.
“Come on, we have to go,” Wahib whispered. I jumped, not even realizing he had snuck over to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up. I groaned softly as I looked down at my mangled, twisted arm. I felt like I had cracked a few ribs as well. Every breath hurt like fire. The sounds of the two creatures fighting followed us far down the empty, labyrinthine streets.
“Did the Golem pull us into this alternate shadow reality, do you think?” I said.
“I think that’s probably how they hunt,” Wahib said simply, his expression grim.
“So we can’t get out until the Golem dies?” He shrugged.
“This has never happened to me before, but I would think if the Golem pulled us in here, then his death should free us,” Wahib said.
“And what if they continue to fight forever, the Jinn and the Golem?” I asked. Wahib just shook his head.
I noticed I still had internet on my phone, however. I decided to write down what happened with one hand. I can’t use my other hand, and my arm is extremely swollen. A piece of the bone is poking out through the skin. I really hope I can find medical attention somehow.
All I know now is that we somehow got trapped in this empty shadow world when the Golem chose us as its victims.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
***
As the night progressed, we kept wandering through the empty, dark streets. Hours and hours passed, but the Sun never seemed to come up. We wandered for days, but couldn’t find any sign of the Jinn or the Golem.
We started going into houses and looking for weapons. One house had automatic rifles, grenades and ammo. Wahib and I both took some.
On the third day, we heard hissing like the sizzling of electricity from far away. We went forward and found the Jinn, half-dead and covered in deep gashes. The fire in his eyes had faded to almost nothing.
“The Golem has won,” it said, pointing down the road. There, I saw it standing, one arm ripped off but its eyes triumphant. It rushed at us, and Wahib and I opened fire.
It came like a runaway train pounding the street and smashed into Wahib, clawing him with its one remaining hand. He died, but as he died, he pulled the pin on a grenade.
A fiery explosion rocked the street as the Golem disappeared in the blast. With a popping sound, the world came back, the streets filled with scared and starving people.
I was home.

I have always lived in poverty and discomfort. My family used to have a house, land and enough money to live comfortably, but that was many years ago. That was before Israel bulldozed our homes and forced us into a ghetto. Now we are treated worse than animals, murdered, bombed and tortured at will by the invading army. I know this from personal experience- from the experiences of myself and my family.
My grandmother’s sister had been one of the victims of the Safsaf Massacre back in 1948, when the Israeli Army had gathered up all the people in a small town. They started by taking the young girls and women aside, ripping them out of the arms of their family. When the girls came back crying and pleading for help, their clothes ripped to shreds, the Israelis had only laughed.
That was when they started shooting the townspeople, massacring them and throwing them alive down wells. My grandmother’s sister was one of the girls that was raped and then murdered by the Israeli military in the Safsaf Massacre.
So I know exactly what Israel is capable of, what kind of sick and evil place that festering country truly is. When the bombs started falling in 2023, I knew I needed to get out of Gaza.
The day that it started, I remember my mother running in the house, saying, “Jalel! You must get out of here. The Israelis just bombed the hospital and the school. They are targeting our homes and trying to wipe us out.” I stared at her for a long moment, feeling stunned and dissociated.
“Why would they do that?” I whispered. I had hoped the Israeli war crimes were a thing of the past.
“Because they hate us, that’s why!” she hissed. “They stole everything from us- our homes, our land, our jobs, our economy. But they won’t be happy until they steal our lives, too.”
***
Within days, Israel stopped everything from going into Gaza: food, electricity, medicine, even water. I saw many people die, especially the elderly, the sick and the very young. The constant strikes from Israel on our town shattered homes into piles of crushed rubble. Within months, tens of thousands of innocent people had died.
I stood on the roof, watching as thick clouds of black smoke snaked their way up into the clouds. Jets flew overhead, shaking the ground with sonic booms. I cringed every time one came low, not knowing if it would bomb my home as well. My friend, Wahib, stood by my side.
“Can’t you use your special gift to get us out of here?” I asked Wahib. He didn’t like it when I brought up his ability and his strange, invisible friend. Wahib shook his head, not meeting my eyes.
“I won’t call it up, unless I have to,” he said, looking sad and empty. “It is a dangerous thing, and I don’t know if I can control it for long.”
“Yes, but we’re going to die if we stay here,” I whispered, my heart sinking. He nodded.
“We need to get out of Gaza before the bombs truly start falling,” Wahib responded, shaking his head. “They’re probably going to kill hundreds of thousands of us this time. Just wipe us out like dogs.” He spat, disgusted. “I only hope there’s some justice in this world.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My grandmother’s sister had never gotten justice, after all, unless she was going to receive it on the Day of Judgment. And yet, as a reward for its war crimes, Israel simply got more funding from the US. No one seemed to care about the piles of bodies they were leaving behind in every Palestinian town.
“What about your family? What about my family?” I asked, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. My mother was sick with diabetes, and with Israel cutting off all medication to Gaza, she was rapidly getting worse. Wahib only shook his head.
“We can’t help them,” he said. “We need to help ourselves. We need to get out of this hellhole immediately, before the real genocide begins. They’re going to bomb every house they can.” As if to confirm what he said, a jet flew low overhead, so close I could see the six-pointed star on its gray metal skin, so close I could smell the jet fuel and fumes. Before I could respond, though, something fell out of it in a curving arc. Then it headed straight down, as graceful as an Olympic diver.
“Bomb!” I shrieked, but it was too late. Something blurred through the sky, leaving a dark green trail behind it. Wahib screamed and covered his head, ducking. Absurdly, I almost wanted to laugh when I saw that. As if ducking and covering his head would protect him from a bomb if it landed on our heads.
But the blur landed at the next house over, falling through the air so fast that I didn’t even have time to react. A flash and a sense of blinding heat consumed everything. I felt myself falling. I tried yelling, but I couldn’t hear my own screams over the cacophony of the blast. The smell of smoke and jet fuel and charred wood hung thick in the air like a cloud.
I don’t know how long I lay on the roof like that, just breathing, stunned and shell-shocked. But I came back quickly, blinking my eyes to clear the smoke and dust filling the air. I looked over at my neighbor’s house and saw an inferno of dancing flames. In the center, an enormous eye of fire swirled like a hurricane.
Screams echoed through the street. Then the front door opened and a young girl ran out, her body aflame, her hair lit up like a torch. Her skin blackened and melted as the fire consumed her. I could see drops of liquified fat and sizzling blood dripping off her nose. Her screams seemed to go on forever. Even now, when I close my eyes, I still hear it: the horror, the agony and the terror in that young girl’s voice as she died.
Wahib was suddenly standing over me, his shoulder-length black hair covered in tiny pieces of brick and gray dust. He blinked quickly, his eyes tearing up. He tried to say something, but only succeeded in coughing. Bent over, he retched, spitting up clear water.
I stumbled to my feet, pushing myself slowly up. I felt light-headed and dizzy. The Sun seemed far too bright, the air too hot. I thought I might pass out for a moment, but I steadied myself and focused on my breathing. Wahib straightened and looked me in the eyes.
“We need to leave- today. Right now,” he whispered, sounding as if he had sand in his throat. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I only nodded.
***
I told my mother I was leaving within a few hours. She didn’t look surprised, but her eyes grew misty.
“Make it out alive,” she said. “If you can make it to the EU, you will find peace and prosperity there. Not like this place.” She motioned out the window to the destroyed cars and piles of rubble littering the streets.
“But what will happen to you?” I asked, feeling sick. The first tears slipped down my cheeks. “Who will take care of you?” She just shook her head.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done so for fifty years already, haven’t I?” I gave her a weak smile as Wahib came in the door, carrying a backpack filled with supplies. I had my own backpack on already. I gave my mother a hug and turned to leave this desolate place behind, telling her I loved her.
I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I ever saw my mother.
***
Wahib and I set out down the road as the Sun faded behind the horizon, sending crimson streaks like drops of fresh blood dancing across the sky.
“I have a friend,” Wahib said, his dark eyes flashing, “but it will take money.”
“I brought everything I have,” I said, which was true. It wasn’t much, a few thousand dollars, but it was my entire life savings. I had worked for years to save that money.
“Well, we can get through to Egypt if we pay the man,” Wahib said. “It’s $2500 per person to get out, though.” My heart seemed to drop as he said this. Wahib just shook his head. “I know, I know, it’s all I have, too. More than I have, really. My mother gave me some of her money before I left, even though she needs it far more than me. I promised I would get a job when I got out of here and send her some of each paycheck, though.” I felt sick, thinking of losing my entire life savings in a single day. But I knew he was right. We needed to get out at any price, and we could hopefully always find higher-paying jobs somewhere else. After all, the Gazan economy was in the toilet.
We walked past apartment buildings with bare bricks exposed to the cool night air. A few one-story stucco houses with courtyards stood around us. A few hundred feet away, one of the houses had been hit by a bomb blast. Half of its roof hung askew, with the rest forming a giant, black crater in the center. Outside, the blackened shell of a moped stretched out across the sidewalk.
I noticed how empty the street was at that moment. It was highly unusual. There were always kids running around and yelling or people outside smoking or sitting. It felt like I had walked into a different world, one where everything had gone deathly silent except for my breathing and my pounding heart.
“Do you… feel something?” I asked Wahib, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shatter that silence. Wahib only nodded.
“Maybe we should turn around,” Wahib said, leaning over close to my ear and whispering. A cold spear of dread had sunken into my chest. A freezing wind blew down the desert street, carrying swirling clouds of sand as it passed.
“Where are we meeting this man?” I asked, nervous. I looked down at my hands and saw they were trembling. All the hairs on my body stood on end, as if lightning were about to strike.
“He’s only a kilometer from here,” Wahib said. I gave an exasperated hiss through my teeth. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t feel we would make it a kilometer.
I looked up at the sky, realizing I didn’t see any more Israeli planes, missiles or helicopters anymore. Other than my own heartbeat, everything had gone totally silent and dead.
I heard the slightest rustle of sand behind me, as if a foot had just barely grazed it. I turned my head and saw something that still gives me chills.
Only about ten paces behind us loomed a ten foot tall creature with gray, stone-like skin. It moved like a mannequin, and it truly looked like the thing had been carved from granite. Only its joints were able to twist and bend, with all other parts of its body staying as stiff as a statue.
It had long, narrow arms that ended in sharp fingers, each of them gleaming and as long as garden shears. Its legs were inhumanly long and thin and ended in something almost like webbed feet. It had a single, bloody eye in the center of its face that rolled with insanity, its sclera yellowed and sickly-looking.
It opened an enormous mouth, its jaw ratcheting down as if it had whirring gears built into its head. Inside that unhinged jaw, I saw row after row of baby teeth. Thousands of children’s milk teeth gleamed, six or seven rows growing side by side with each other like tumors. Many of the teeth stuck out at odd angles, and some even had tiny versions of themselves growing out of the sides.
“It’s a Golem,” Wahib hissed as he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. We started running. I looked back at the gray, nightmarish creature plodding forward. It continued to gnash its twisted, ingrown teeth at the air. “A Golem made from spirit and rock, sent by the enemy.”
“Good thing I saw it,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t. The world stayed silent and dead, as if we had entered some shadow world of emptiness, an unpopulated and eerie facsimile of normal reality.
We turned down an alleyway, still trying to find the home of the fixer who would get us into Egypt. I think both of us knew that we weren’t going anywhere, however. I knew he wouldn’t be home, just as no one else was home, just as the once-busy streets had all gone mysteriously empty.
As we got out of the winding, tight alleyway and past the stucco houses, I heard rustling again. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“He’s close,” I whispered to Wahib, who nodded grimly. We went out onto the street. There was no light anymore. The bombings had knocked out electricity. I couldn’t see far, so I didn’t notice as the eldritch abomination attacked us from behind.
I felt like I had been struck by a train. I went flying, smashing into the front door of an apartment building. I felt something in my arm crack and heard the bone snap. Gritting my teeth, I rolled on the ground as the Golem charged me. For such a large, heavy creature made of stone, it moved silently, its granite feet blurring across the sand like a whisper.
Wahib uttered a single word in some language I had never heard before- certainly not Arabic, English or Hebrew. It sounded ancient and guttural, like the word itself was a piece of the heart ripped out and made into sound.
A creature made of smokeless fire appeared in front of the charging Golem. The creature’s black body looked translucent, its limbs twisted and snake-like, its face just a mask of constantly-shifting shadows. In its heart and its eyes, I saw the orange currents of flame whirling and spinning.
“A jinn,” I whispered, amazed. Wahib had claimed he could control “his Jinn”, as he called it, but he was always afraid to bring it out. I had never seen a Jinn, and before this moment, I wasn’t even sure they really existed.
The Golem roared in fury, its deep, inhuman voice thundering across the empty streets. It brought its sharp fingers up in a swiping motion, aiming at the Jinn’s fiery eyes, but the Jinn pulled back. Its right arm stretched out like a boa constrictor, growing thinner and wispier as it wrapped around the Golem’s neck. The Golem’s giant, rolling eye bulged in its socket as its wind was cut off. It threw itself forward, tackling the Jinn to the ground. They started rolling, clawing and biting. Deep gashes appeared in the Golem’s stone skin, and the Jinn’s shadow flesh shot out small, dying blue flames when injured.
“Come on, we have to go,” Wahib whispered. I jumped, not even realizing he had snuck over to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up. I groaned softly as I looked down at my mangled, twisted arm. I felt like I had cracked a few ribs as well. Every breath hurt like fire. The sounds of the two creatures fighting followed us far down the empty, labyrinthine streets.
“Did the Golem pull us into this alternate shadow reality, do you think?” I said.
“I think that’s probably how they hunt,” Wahib said simply, his expression grim.
“So we can’t get out until the Golem dies?” He shrugged.
“This has never happened to me before, but I would think if the Golem pulled us in here, then his death should free us,” Wahib said.
“And what if they continue to fight forever, the Jinn and the Golem?” I asked. Wahib just shook his head.
I noticed I still had internet on my phone, however. I decided to write down what happened with one hand. I can’t use my other hand, and my arm is extremely swollen. A piece of the bone is poking out through the skin. I really hope I can find medical attention somehow.
All I know now is that we somehow got trapped in this empty shadow world when the Golem chose us as its victims.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
***
As the night progressed, we kept wandering through the empty, dark streets. Hours and hours passed, but the Sun never seemed to come up. We wandered for days, but couldn’t find any sign of the Jinn or the Golem.
We started going into houses and looking for weapons. One house had automatic rifles, grenades and ammo. Wahib and I both took some.
On the third day, we heard hissing like the sizzling of electricity from far away. We went forward and found the Jinn, half-dead and covered in deep gashes. The fire in his eyes had faded to almost nothing.
“The Golem has won,” it said, pointing down the road. There, I saw it standing, one arm ripped off but its eyes triumphant. It rushed at us, and Wahib and I opened fire.
It came like a runaway train pounding the street and smashed into Wahib, clawing him with its one remaining hand. He died, but as he died, he pulled the pin on a grenade.
A fiery explosion rocked the street as the Golem disappeared in the blast. With a popping sound, the world came back, the streets filled with scared and starving people.
I was home.

I have always lived in poverty and discomfort. My family used to have a house, land and enough money to live comfortably, but that was many years ago. That was before Israel bulldozed our homes and forced us into a ghetto. Now we are treated worse than animals, murdered, bombed and tortured at will by the invading army. I know this from personal experience- from the experiences of myself and my family.
My grandmother’s sister had been one of the victims of the Safsaf Massacre back in 1948, when the Israeli Army had gathered up all the people in a small town. They started by taking the young girls and women aside, ripping them out of the arms of their family. When the girls came back crying and pleading for help, their clothes ripped to shreds, the Israelis had only laughed.
That was when they started shooting the townspeople, massacring them and throwing them alive down wells. My grandmother’s sister was one of the girls that was raped and then murdered by the Israeli military in the Safsaf Massacre.
So I know exactly what Israel is capable of, what kind of sick and evil place that festering country truly is. When the bombs started falling in 2023, I knew I needed to get out of Gaza.
The day that it started, I remember my mother running in the house, saying, “Jalel! You must get out of here. The Israelis just bombed the hospital and the school. They are targeting our homes and trying to wipe us out.” I stared at her for a long moment, feeling stunned and dissociated.
“Why would they do that?” I whispered. I had hoped the Israeli war crimes were a thing of the past.
“Because they hate us, that’s why!” she hissed. “They stole everything from us- our homes, our land, our jobs, our economy. But they won’t be happy until they steal our lives, too.”
***
Within days, Israel stopped everything from going into Gaza: food, electricity, medicine, even water. I saw many people die, especially the elderly, the sick and the very young. The constant strikes from Israel on our town shattered homes into piles of crushed rubble. Within months, tens of thousands of innocent people had died.
I stood on the roof, watching as thick clouds of black smoke snaked their way up into the clouds. Jets flew overhead, shaking the ground with sonic booms. I cringed every time one came low, not knowing if it would bomb my home as well. My friend, Wahib, stood by my side.
“Can’t you use your special gift to get us out of here?” I asked Wahib. He didn’t like it when I brought up his ability and his strange, invisible friend. Wahib shook his head, not meeting my eyes.
“I won’t call it up, unless I have to,” he said, looking sad and empty. “It is a dangerous thing, and I don’t know if I can control it for long.”
“Yes, but we’re going to die if we stay here,” I whispered, my heart sinking. He nodded.
“We need to get out of Gaza before the bombs truly start falling,” Wahib responded, shaking his head. “They’re probably going to kill hundreds of thousands of us this time. Just wipe us out like dogs.” He spat, disgusted. “I only hope there’s some justice in this world.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My grandmother’s sister had never gotten justice, after all, unless she was going to receive it on the Day of Judgment. And yet, as a reward for its war crimes, Israel simply got more funding from the US. No one seemed to care about the piles of bodies they were leaving behind in every Palestinian town.
“What about your family? What about my family?” I asked, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. My mother was sick with diabetes, and with Israel cutting off all medication to Gaza, she was rapidly getting worse. Wahib only shook his head.
“We can’t help them,” he said. “We need to help ourselves. We need to get out of this hellhole immediately, before the real genocide begins. They’re going to bomb every house they can.” As if to confirm what he said, a jet flew low overhead, so close I could see the six-pointed star on its gray metal skin, so close I could smell the jet fuel and fumes. Before I could respond, though, something fell out of it in a curving arc. Then it headed straight down, as graceful as an Olympic diver.
“Bomb!” I shrieked, but it was too late. Something blurred through the sky, leaving a dark green trail behind it. Wahib screamed and covered his head, ducking. Absurdly, I almost wanted to laugh when I saw that. As if ducking and covering his head would protect him from a bomb if it landed on our heads.
But the blur landed at the next house over, falling through the air so fast that I didn’t even have time to react. A flash and a sense of blinding heat consumed everything. I felt myself falling. I tried yelling, but I couldn’t hear my own screams over the cacophony of the blast. The smell of smoke and jet fuel and charred wood hung thick in the air like a cloud.
I don’t know how long I lay on the roof like that, just breathing, stunned and shell-shocked. But I came back quickly, blinking my eyes to clear the smoke and dust filling the air. I looked over at my neighbor’s house and saw an inferno of dancing flames. In the center, an enormous eye of fire swirled like a hurricane.
Screams echoed through the street. Then the front door opened and a young girl ran out, her body aflame, her hair lit up like a torch. Her skin blackened and melted as the fire consumed her. I could see drops of liquified fat and sizzling blood dripping off her nose. Her screams seemed to go on forever. Even now, when I close my eyes, I still hear it: the horror, the agony and the terror in that young girl’s voice as she died.
Wahib was suddenly standing over me, his shoulder-length black hair covered in tiny pieces of brick and gray dust. He blinked quickly, his eyes tearing up. He tried to say something, but only succeeded in coughing. Bent over, he retched, spitting up clear water.
I stumbled to my feet, pushing myself slowly up. I felt light-headed and dizzy. The Sun seemed far too bright, the air too hot. I thought I might pass out for a moment, but I steadied myself and focused on my breathing. Wahib straightened and looked me in the eyes.
“We need to leave- today. Right now,” he whispered, sounding as if he had sand in his throat. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I only nodded.
***
I told my mother I was leaving within a few hours. She didn’t look surprised, but her eyes grew misty.
“Make it out alive,” she said. “If you can make it to the EU, you will find peace and prosperity there. Not like this place.” She motioned out the window to the destroyed cars and piles of rubble littering the streets.
“But what will happen to you?” I asked, feeling sick. The first tears slipped down my cheeks. “Who will take care of you?” She just shook her head.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done so for fifty years already, haven’t I?” I gave her a weak smile as Wahib came in the door, carrying a backpack filled with supplies. I had my own backpack on already. I gave my mother a hug and turned to leave this desolate place behind, telling her I loved her.
I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I ever saw my mother.
***
Wahib and I set out down the road as the Sun faded behind the horizon, sending crimson streaks like drops of fresh blood dancing across the sky.
“I have a friend,” Wahib said, his dark eyes flashing, “but it will take money.”
“I brought everything I have,” I said, which was true. It wasn’t much, a few thousand dollars, but it was my entire life savings. I had worked for years to save that money.
“Well, we can get through to Egypt if we pay the man,” Wahib said. “It’s $2500 per person to get out, though.” My heart seemed to drop as he said this. Wahib just shook his head. “I know, I know, it’s all I have, too. More than I have, really. My mother gave me some of her money before I left, even though she needs it far more than me. I promised I would get a job when I got out of here and send her some of each paycheck, though.” I felt sick, thinking of losing my entire life savings in a single day. But I knew he was right. We needed to get out at any price, and we could hopefully always find higher-paying jobs somewhere else. After all, the Gazan economy was in the toilet.
We walked past apartment buildings with bare bricks exposed to the cool night air. A few one-story stucco houses with courtyards stood around us. A few hundred feet away, one of the houses had been hit by a bomb blast. Half of its roof hung askew, with the rest forming a giant, black crater in the center. Outside, the blackened shell of a moped stretched out across the sidewalk.
I noticed how empty the street was at that moment. It was highly unusual. There were always kids running around and yelling or people outside smoking or sitting. It felt like I had walked into a different world, one where everything had gone deathly silent except for my breathing and my pounding heart.
“Do you… feel something?” I asked Wahib, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shatter that silence. Wahib only nodded.
“Maybe we should turn around,” Wahib said, leaning over close to my ear and whispering. A cold spear of dread had sunken into my chest. A freezing wind blew down the desert street, carrying swirling clouds of sand as it passed.
“Where are we meeting this man?” I asked, nervous. I looked down at my hands and saw they were trembling. All the hairs on my body stood on end, as if lightning were about to strike.
“He’s only a kilometer from here,” Wahib said. I gave an exasperated hiss through my teeth. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t feel we would make it a kilometer.
I looked up at the sky, realizing I didn’t see any more Israeli planes, missiles or helicopters anymore. Other than my own heartbeat, everything had gone totally silent and dead.
I heard the slightest rustle of sand behind me, as if a foot had just barely grazed it. I turned my head and saw something that still gives me chills.
Only about ten paces behind us loomed a ten foot tall creature with gray, stone-like skin. It moved like a mannequin, and it truly looked like the thing had been carved from granite. Only its joints were able to twist and bend, with all other parts of its body staying as stiff as a statue.
It had long, narrow arms that ended in sharp fingers, each of them gleaming and as long as garden shears. Its legs were inhumanly long and thin and ended in something almost like webbed feet. It had a single, bloody eye in the center of its face that rolled with insanity, its sclera yellowed and sickly-looking.
It opened an enormous mouth, its jaw ratcheting down as if it had whirring gears built into its head. Inside that unhinged jaw, I saw row after row of baby teeth. Thousands of children’s milk teeth gleamed, six or seven rows growing side by side with each other like tumors. Many of the teeth stuck out at odd angles, and some even had tiny versions of themselves growing out of the sides.
“It’s a Golem,” Wahib hissed as he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. We started running. I looked back at the gray, nightmarish creature plodding forward. It continued to gnash its twisted, ingrown teeth at the air. “A Golem made from spirit and rock, sent by the enemy.”
“Good thing I saw it,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t. The world stayed silent and dead, as if we had entered some shadow world of emptiness, an unpopulated and eerie facsimile of normal reality.
We turned down an alleyway, still trying to find the home of the fixer who would get us into Egypt. I think both of us knew that we weren’t going anywhere, however. I knew he wouldn’t be home, just as no one else was home, just as the once-busy streets had all gone mysteriously empty.
As we got out of the winding, tight alleyway and past the stucco houses, I heard rustling again. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“He’s close,” I whispered to Wahib, who nodded grimly. We went out onto the street. There was no light anymore. The bombings had knocked out electricity. I couldn’t see far, so I didn’t notice as the eldritch abomination attacked us from behind.
I felt like I had been struck by a train. I went flying, smashing into the front door of an apartment building. I felt something in my arm crack and heard the bone snap. Gritting my teeth, I rolled on the ground as the Golem charged me. For such a large, heavy creature made of stone, it moved silently, its granite feet blurring across the sand like a whisper.
Wahib uttered a single word in some language I had never heard before- certainly not Arabic, English or Hebrew. It sounded ancient and guttural, like the word itself was a piece of the heart ripped out and made into sound.
A creature made of smokeless fire appeared in front of the charging Golem. The creature’s black body looked translucent, its limbs twisted and snake-like, its face just a mask of constantly-shifting shadows. In its heart and its eyes, I saw the orange currents of flame whirling and spinning.
“A jinn,” I whispered, amazed. Wahib had claimed he could control “his Jinn”, as he called it, but he was always afraid to bring it out. I had never seen a Jinn, and before this moment, I wasn’t even sure they really existed.
The Golem roared in fury, its deep, inhuman voice thundering across the empty streets. It brought its sharp fingers up in a swiping motion, aiming at the Jinn’s fiery eyes, but the Jinn pulled back. Its right arm stretched out like a boa constrictor, growing thinner and wispier as it wrapped around the Golem’s neck. The Golem’s giant, rolling eye bulged in its socket as its wind was cut off. It threw itself forward, tackling the Jinn to the ground. They started rolling, clawing and biting. Deep gashes appeared in the Golem’s stone skin, and the Jinn’s shadow flesh shot out small, dying blue flames when injured.
“Come on, we have to go,” Wahib whispered. I jumped, not even realizing he had snuck over to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up. I groaned softly as I looked down at my mangled, twisted arm. I felt like I had cracked a few ribs as well. Every breath hurt like fire. The sounds of the two creatures fighting followed us far down the empty, labyrinthine streets.
“Did the Golem pull us into this alternate shadow reality, do you think?” I said.
“I think that’s probably how they hunt,” Wahib said simply, his expression grim.
“So we can’t get out until the Golem dies?” He shrugged.
“This has never happened to me before, but I would think if the Golem pulled us in here, then his death should free us,” Wahib said.
“And what if they continue to fight forever, the Jinn and the Golem?” I asked. Wahib just shook his head.
I noticed I still had internet on my phone, however. I decided to write down what happened with one hand. I can’t use my other hand, and my arm is extremely swollen. A piece of the bone is poking out through the skin. I really hope I can find medical attention somehow.
All I know now is that we somehow got trapped in this empty shadow world when the Golem chose us as its victims.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
***
As the night progressed, we kept wandering through the empty, dark streets. Hours and hours passed, but the Sun never seemed to come up. We wandered for days, but couldn’t find any sign of the Jinn or the Golem.
We started going into houses and looking for weapons. One house had automatic rifles, grenades and ammo. Wahib and I both took some.
On the third day, we heard hissing like the sizzling of electricity from far away. We went forward and found the Jinn, half-dead and covered in deep gashes. The fire in his eyes had faded to almost nothing.
“The Golem has won,” it said, pointing down the road. There, I saw it standing, one arm ripped off but its eyes triumphant. It rushed at us, and Wahib and I opened fire.
It came like a runaway train pounding the street and smashed into Wahib, clawing him with its one remaining hand. He died, but as he died, he pulled the pin on a grenade.
A fiery explosion rocked the street as the Golem disappeared in the blast. With a popping sound, the world came back, the streets filled with scared and starving people.
I was home.

I have always lived in poverty and discomfort. My family used to have a house, land and enough money to live comfortably, but that was many years ago. That was before Israel bulldozed our homes and forced us into a ghetto. Now we are treated worse than animals, murdered, bombed and tortured at will by the invading army. I know this from personal experience- from the experiences of myself and my family.
My grandmother’s sister had been one of the victims of the Safsaf Massacre back in 1948, when the Israeli Army had gathered up all the people in a small town. They started by taking the young girls and women aside, ripping them out of the arms of their family. When the girls came back crying and pleading for help, their clothes ripped to shreds, the Israelis had only laughed.
That was when they started shooting the townspeople, massacring them and throwing them alive down wells. My grandmother’s sister was one of the girls that was raped and then murdered by the Israeli military in the Safsaf Massacre.
So I know exactly what Israel is capable of, what kind of sick and evil place that festering country truly is. When the bombs started falling in 2023, I knew I needed to get out of Gaza.
The day that it started, I remember my mother running in the house, saying, “Jalel! You must get out of here. The Israelis just bombed the hospital and the school. They are targeting our homes and trying to wipe us out.” I stared at her for a long moment, feeling stunned and dissociated.
“Why would they do that?” I whispered. I had hoped the Israeli war crimes were a thing of the past.
“Because they hate us, that’s why!” she hissed. “They stole everything from us- our homes, our land, our jobs, our economy. But they won’t be happy until they steal our lives, too.”
***
Within days, Israel stopped everything from going into Gaza: food, electricity, medicine, even water. I saw many people die, especially the elderly, the sick and the very young. The constant strikes from Israel on our town shattered homes into piles of crushed rubble. Within months, tens of thousands of innocent people had died.
I stood on the roof, watching as thick clouds of black smoke snaked their way up into the clouds. Jets flew overhead, shaking the ground with sonic booms. I cringed every time one came low, not knowing if it would bomb my home as well. My friend, Wahib, stood by my side.
“Can’t you use your special gift to get us out of here?” I asked Wahib. He didn’t like it when I brought up his ability and his strange, invisible friend. Wahib shook his head, not meeting my eyes.
“I won’t call it up, unless I have to,” he said, looking sad and empty. “It is a dangerous thing, and I don’t know if I can control it for long.”
“Yes, but we’re going to die if we stay here,” I whispered, my heart sinking. He nodded.
“We need to get out of Gaza before the bombs truly start falling,” Wahib responded, shaking his head. “They’re probably going to kill hundreds of thousands of us this time. Just wipe us out like dogs.” He spat, disgusted. “I only hope there’s some justice in this world.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My grandmother’s sister had never gotten justice, after all, unless she was going to receive it on the Day of Judgment. And yet, as a reward for its war crimes, Israel simply got more funding from the US. No one seemed to care about the piles of bodies they were leaving behind in every Palestinian town.
“What about your family? What about my family?” I asked, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. My mother was sick with diabetes, and with Israel cutting off all medication to Gaza, she was rapidly getting worse. Wahib only shook his head.
“We can’t help them,” he said. “We need to help ourselves. We need to get out of this hellhole immediately, before the real genocide begins. They’re going to bomb every house they can.” As if to confirm what he said, a jet flew low overhead, so close I could see the six-pointed star on its gray metal skin, so close I could smell the jet fuel and fumes. Before I could respond, though, something fell out of it in a curving arc. Then it headed straight down, as graceful as an Olympic diver.
“Bomb!” I shrieked, but it was too late. Something blurred through the sky, leaving a dark green trail behind it. Wahib screamed and covered his head, ducking. Absurdly, I almost wanted to laugh when I saw that. As if ducking and covering his head would protect him from a bomb if it landed on our heads.
But the blur landed at the next house over, falling through the air so fast that I didn’t even have time to react. A flash and a sense of blinding heat consumed everything. I felt myself falling. I tried yelling, but I couldn’t hear my own screams over the cacophony of the blast. The smell of smoke and jet fuel and charred wood hung thick in the air like a cloud.
I don’t know how long I lay on the roof like that, just breathing, stunned and shell-shocked. But I came back quickly, blinking my eyes to clear the smoke and dust filling the air. I looked over at my neighbor’s house and saw an inferno of dancing flames. In the center, an enormous eye of fire swirled like a hurricane.
Screams echoed through the street. Then the front door opened and a young girl ran out, her body aflame, her hair lit up like a torch. Her skin blackened and melted as the fire consumed her. I could see drops of liquified fat and sizzling blood dripping off her nose. Her screams seemed to go on forever. Even now, when I close my eyes, I still hear it: the horror, the agony and the terror in that young girl’s voice as she died.
Wahib was suddenly standing over me, his shoulder-length black hair covered in tiny pieces of brick and gray dust. He blinked quickly, his eyes tearing up. He tried to say something, but only succeeded in coughing. Bent over, he retched, spitting up clear water.
I stumbled to my feet, pushing myself slowly up. I felt light-headed and dizzy. The Sun seemed far too bright, the air too hot. I thought I might pass out for a moment, but I steadied myself and focused on my breathing. Wahib straightened and looked me in the eyes.
“We need to leave- today. Right now,” he whispered, sounding as if he had sand in his throat. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I only nodded.
***
I told my mother I was leaving within a few hours. She didn’t look surprised, but her eyes grew misty.
“Make it out alive,” she said. “If you can make it to the EU, you will find peace and prosperity there. Not like this place.” She motioned out the window to the destroyed cars and piles of rubble littering the streets.
“But what will happen to you?” I asked, feeling sick. The first tears slipped down my cheeks. “Who will take care of you?” She just shook her head.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done so for fifty years already, haven’t I?” I gave her a weak smile as Wahib came in the door, carrying a backpack filled with supplies. I had my own backpack on already. I gave my mother a hug and turned to leave this desolate place behind, telling her I loved her.
I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I ever saw my mother.
***
Wahib and I set out down the road as the Sun faded behind the horizon, sending crimson streaks like drops of fresh blood dancing across the sky.
“I have a friend,” Wahib said, his dark eyes flashing, “but it will take money.”
“I brought everything I have,” I said, which was true. It wasn’t much, a few thousand dollars, but it was my entire life savings. I had worked for years to save that money.
“Well, we can get through to Egypt if we pay the man,” Wahib said. “It’s $2500 per person to get out, though.” My heart seemed to drop as he said this. Wahib just shook his head. “I know, I know, it’s all I have, too. More than I have, really. My mother gave me some of her money before I left, even though she needs it far more than me. I promised I would get a job when I got out of here and send her some of each paycheck, though.” I felt sick, thinking of losing my entire life savings in a single day. But I knew he was right. We needed to get out at any price, and we could hopefully always find higher-paying jobs somewhere else. After all, the Gazan economy was in the toilet.
We walked past apartment buildings with bare bricks exposed to the cool night air. A few one-story stucco houses with courtyards stood around us. A few hundred feet away, one of the houses had been hit by a bomb blast. Half of its roof hung askew, with the rest forming a giant, black crater in the center. Outside, the blackened shell of a moped stretched out across the sidewalk.
I noticed how empty the street was at that moment. It was highly unusual. There were always kids running around and yelling or people outside smoking or sitting. It felt like I had walked into a different world, one where everything had gone deathly silent except for my breathing and my pounding heart.
“Do you… feel something?” I asked Wahib, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shatter that silence. Wahib only nodded.
“Maybe we should turn around,” Wahib said, leaning over close to my ear and whispering. A cold spear of dread had sunken into my chest. A freezing wind blew down the desert street, carrying swirling clouds of sand as it passed.
“Where are we meeting this man?” I asked, nervous. I looked down at my hands and saw they were trembling. All the hairs on my body stood on end, as if lightning were about to strike.
“He’s only a kilometer from here,” Wahib said. I gave an exasperated hiss through my teeth. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t feel we would make it a kilometer.
I looked up at the sky, realizing I didn’t see any more Israeli planes, missiles or helicopters anymore. Other than my own heartbeat, everything had gone totally silent and dead.
I heard the slightest rustle of sand behind me, as if a foot had just barely grazed it. I turned my head and saw something that still gives me chills.
Only about ten paces behind us loomed a ten foot tall creature with gray, stone-like skin. It moved like a mannequin, and it truly looked like the thing had been carved from granite. Only its joints were able to twist and bend, with all other parts of its body staying as stiff as a statue.
It had long, narrow arms that ended in sharp fingers, each of them gleaming and as long as garden shears. Its legs were inhumanly long and thin and ended in something almost like webbed feet. It had a single, bloody eye in the center of its face that rolled with insanity, its sclera yellowed and sickly-looking.
It opened an enormous mouth, its jaw ratcheting down as if it had whirring gears built into its head. Inside that unhinged jaw, I saw row after row of baby teeth. Thousands of children’s milk teeth gleamed, six or seven rows growing side by side with each other like tumors. Many of the teeth stuck out at odd angles, and some even had tiny versions of themselves growing out of the sides.
“It’s a Golem,” Wahib hissed as he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. We started running. I looked back at the gray, nightmarish creature plodding forward. It continued to gnash its twisted, ingrown teeth at the air. “A Golem made from spirit and rock, sent by the enemy.”
“Good thing I saw it,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t. The world stayed silent and dead, as if we had entered some shadow world of emptiness, an unpopulated and eerie facsimile of normal reality.
We turned down an alleyway, still trying to find the home of the fixer who would get us into Egypt. I think both of us knew that we weren’t going anywhere, however. I knew he wouldn’t be home, just as no one else was home, just as the once-busy streets had all gone mysteriously empty.
As we got out of the winding, tight alleyway and past the stucco houses, I heard rustling again. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“He’s close,” I whispered to Wahib, who nodded grimly. We went out onto the street. There was no light anymore. The bombings had knocked out electricity. I couldn’t see far, so I didn’t notice as the eldritch abomination attacked us from behind.
I felt like I had been struck by a train. I went flying, smashing into the front door of an apartment building. I felt something in my arm crack and heard the bone snap. Gritting my teeth, I rolled on the ground as the Golem charged me. For such a large, heavy creature made of stone, it moved silently, its granite feet blurring across the sand like a whisper.
Wahib uttered a single word in some language I had never heard before- certainly not Arabic, English or Hebrew. It sounded ancient and guttural, like the word itself was a piece of the heart ripped out and made into sound.
A creature made of smokeless fire appeared in front of the charging Golem. The creature’s black body looked translucent, its limbs twisted and snake-like, its face just a mask of constantly-shifting shadows. In its heart and its eyes, I saw the orange currents of flame whirling and spinning.
“A jinn,” I whispered, amazed. Wahib had claimed he could control “his Jinn”, as he called it, but he was always afraid to bring it out. I had never seen a Jinn, and before this moment, I wasn’t even sure they really existed.
The Golem roared in fury, its deep, inhuman voice thundering across the empty streets. It brought its sharp fingers up in a swiping motion, aiming at the Jinn’s fiery eyes, but the Jinn pulled back. Its right arm stretched out like a boa constrictor, growing thinner and wispier as it wrapped around the Golem’s neck. The Golem’s giant, rolling eye bulged in its socket as its wind was cut off. It threw itself forward, tackling the Jinn to the ground. They started rolling, clawing and biting. Deep gashes appeared in the Golem’s stone skin, and the Jinn’s shadow flesh shot out small, dying blue flames when injured.
“Come on, we have to go,” Wahib whispered. I jumped, not even realizing he had snuck over to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up. I groaned softly as I looked down at my mangled, twisted arm. I felt like I had cracked a few ribs as well. Every breath hurt like fire. The sounds of the two creatures fighting followed us far down the empty, labyrinthine streets.
“Did the Golem pull us into this alternate shadow reality, do you think?” I said.
“I think that’s probably how they hunt,” Wahib said simply, his expression grim.
“So we can’t get out until the Golem dies?” He shrugged.
“This has never happened to me before, but I would think if the Golem pulled us in here, then his death should free us,” Wahib said.
“And what if they continue to fight forever, the Jinn and the Golem?” I asked. Wahib just shook his head.
I noticed I still had internet on my phone, however. I decided to write down what happened with one hand. I can’t use my other hand, and my arm is extremely swollen. A piece of the bone is poking out through the skin. I really hope I can find medical attention somehow.
All I know now is that we somehow got trapped in this empty shadow world when the Golem chose us as its victims.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
***
As the night progressed, we kept wandering through the empty, dark streets. Hours and hours passed, but the Sun never seemed to come up. We wandered for days, but couldn’t find any sign of the Jinn or the Golem.
We started going into houses and looking for weapons. One house had automatic rifles, grenades and ammo. Wahib and I both took some.
On the third day, we heard hissing like the sizzling of electricity from far away. We went forward and found the Jinn, half-dead and covered in deep gashes. The fire in his eyes had faded to almost nothing.
“The Golem has won,” it said, pointing down the road. There, I saw it standing, one arm ripped off but its eyes triumphant. It rushed at us, and Wahib and I opened fire.
It came like a runaway train pounding the street and smashed into Wahib, clawing him with its one remaining hand. He died, but as he died, he pulled the pin on a grenade.
A fiery explosion rocked the street as the Golem disappeared in the blast. With a popping sound, the world came back, the streets filled with scared and starving people.
I was home.

I have always lived in poverty and discomfort. My family used to have a house, land and enough money to live comfortably, but that was many years ago. That was before Israel bulldozed our homes and forced us into a ghetto. Now we are treated worse than animals, murdered, bombed and tortured at will by the invading army. I know this from personal experience- from the experiences of myself and my family.
My grandmother’s sister had been one of the victims of the Safsaf Massacre back in 1948, when the Israeli Army had gathered up all the people in a small town. They started by taking the young girls and women aside, ripping them out of the arms of their family. When the girls came back crying and pleading for help, their clothes ripped to shreds, the Israelis had only laughed.
That was when they started shooting the townspeople, massacring them and throwing them alive down wells. My grandmother’s sister was one of the girls that was raped and then murdered by the Israeli military in the Safsaf Massacre.
So I know exactly what Israel is capable of, what kind of sick and evil place that festering country truly is. When the bombs started falling in 2023, I knew I needed to get out of Gaza.
The day that it started, I remember my mother running in the house, saying, “Jalel! You must get out of here. The Israelis just bombed the hospital and the school. They are targeting our homes and trying to wipe us out.” I stared at her for a long moment, feeling stunned and dissociated.
“Why would they do that?” I whispered. I had hoped the Israeli war crimes were a thing of the past.
“Because they hate us, that’s why!” she hissed. “They stole everything from us- our homes, our land, our jobs, our economy. But they won’t be happy until they steal our lives, too.”
***
Within days, Israel stopped everything from going into Gaza: food, electricity, medicine, even water. I saw many people die, especially the elderly, the sick and the very young. The constant strikes from Israel on our town shattered homes into piles of crushed rubble. Within months, tens of thousands of innocent people had died.
I stood on the roof, watching as thick clouds of black smoke snaked their way up into the clouds. Jets flew overhead, shaking the ground with sonic booms. I cringed every time one came low, not knowing if it would bomb my home as well. My friend, Wahib, stood by my side.
“Can’t you use your special gift to get us out of here?” I asked Wahib. He didn’t like it when I brought up his ability and his strange, invisible friend. Wahib shook his head, not meeting my eyes.
“I won’t call it up, unless I have to,” he said, looking sad and empty. “It is a dangerous thing, and I don’t know if I can control it for long.”
“Yes, but we’re going to die if we stay here,” I whispered, my heart sinking. He nodded.
“We need to get out of Gaza before the bombs truly start falling,” Wahib responded, shaking his head. “They’re probably going to kill hundreds of thousands of us this time. Just wipe us out like dogs.” He spat, disgusted. “I only hope there’s some justice in this world.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My grandmother’s sister had never gotten justice, after all, unless she was going to receive it on the Day of Judgment. And yet, as a reward for its war crimes, Israel simply got more funding from the US. No one seemed to care about the piles of bodies they were leaving behind in every Palestinian town.
“What about your family? What about my family?” I asked, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. My mother was sick with diabetes, and with Israel cutting off all medication to Gaza, she was rapidly getting worse. Wahib only shook his head.
“We can’t help them,” he said. “We need to help ourselves. We need to get out of this hellhole immediately, before the real genocide begins. They’re going to bomb every house they can.” As if to confirm what he said, a jet flew low overhead, so close I could see the six-pointed star on its gray metal skin, so close I could smell the jet fuel and fumes. Before I could respond, though, something fell out of it in a curving arc. Then it headed straight down, as graceful as an Olympic diver.
“Bomb!” I shrieked, but it was too late. Something blurred through the sky, leaving a dark green trail behind it. Wahib screamed and covered his head, ducking. Absurdly, I almost wanted to laugh when I saw that. As if ducking and covering his head would protect him from a bomb if it landed on our heads.
But the blur landed at the next house over, falling through the air so fast that I didn’t even have time to react. A flash and a sense of blinding heat consumed everything. I felt myself falling. I tried yelling, but I couldn’t hear my own screams over the cacophony of the blast. The smell of smoke and jet fuel and charred wood hung thick in the air like a cloud.
I don’t know how long I lay on the roof like that, just breathing, stunned and shell-shocked. But I came back quickly, blinking my eyes to clear the smoke and dust filling the air. I looked over at my neighbor’s house and saw an inferno of dancing flames. In the center, an enormous eye of fire swirled like a hurricane.
Screams echoed through the street. Then the front door opened and a young girl ran out, her body aflame, her hair lit up like a torch. Her skin blackened and melted as the fire consumed her. I could see drops of liquified fat and sizzling blood dripping off her nose. Her screams seemed to go on forever. Even now, when I close my eyes, I still hear it: the horror, the agony and the terror in that young girl’s voice as she died.
Wahib was suddenly standing over me, his shoulder-length black hair covered in tiny pieces of brick and gray dust. He blinked quickly, his eyes tearing up. He tried to say something, but only succeeded in coughing. Bent over, he retched, spitting up clear water.
I stumbled to my feet, pushing myself slowly up. I felt light-headed and dizzy. The Sun seemed far too bright, the air too hot. I thought I might pass out for a moment, but I steadied myself and focused on my breathing. Wahib straightened and looked me in the eyes.
“We need to leave- today. Right now,” he whispered, sounding as if he had sand in his throat. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I only nodded.
***
I told my mother I was leaving within a few hours. She didn’t look surprised, but her eyes grew misty.
“Make it out alive,” she said. “If you can make it to the EU, you will find peace and prosperity there. Not like this place.” She motioned out the window to the destroyed cars and piles of rubble littering the streets.
“But what will happen to you?” I asked, feeling sick. The first tears slipped down my cheeks. “Who will take care of you?” She just shook her head.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done so for fifty years already, haven’t I?” I gave her a weak smile as Wahib came in the door, carrying a backpack filled with supplies. I had my own backpack on already. I gave my mother a hug and turned to leave this desolate place behind, telling her I loved her.
I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I ever saw my mother.
***
Wahib and I set out down the road as the Sun faded behind the horizon, sending crimson streaks like drops of fresh blood dancing across the sky.
“I have a friend,” Wahib said, his dark eyes flashing, “but it will take money.”
“I brought everything I have,” I said, which was true. It wasn’t much, a few thousand dollars, but it was my entire life savings. I had worked for years to save that money.
“Well, we can get through to Egypt if we pay the man,” Wahib said. “It’s $2500 per person to get out, though.” My heart seemed to drop as he said this. Wahib just shook his head. “I know, I know, it’s all I have, too. More than I have, really. My mother gave me some of her money before I left, even though she needs it far more than me. I promised I would get a job when I got out of here and send her some of each paycheck, though.” I felt sick, thinking of losing my entire life savings in a single day. But I knew he was right. We needed to get out at any price, and we could hopefully always find higher-paying jobs somewhere else. After all, the Gazan economy was in the toilet.
We walked past apartment buildings with bare bricks exposed to the cool night air. A few one-story stucco houses with courtyards stood around us. A few hundred feet away, one of the houses had been hit by a bomb blast. Half of its roof hung askew, with the rest forming a giant, black crater in the center. Outside, the blackened shell of a moped stretched out across the sidewalk.
I noticed how empty the street was at that moment. It was highly unusual. There were always kids running around and yelling or people outside smoking or sitting. It felt like I had walked into a different world, one where everything had gone deathly silent except for my breathing and my pounding heart.
“Do you… feel something?” I asked Wahib, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shatter that silence. Wahib only nodded.
“Maybe we should turn around,” Wahib said, leaning over close to my ear and whispering. A cold spear of dread had sunken into my chest. A freezing wind blew down the desert street, carrying swirling clouds of sand as it passed.
“Where are we meeting this man?” I asked, nervous. I looked down at my hands and saw they were trembling. All the hairs on my body stood on end, as if lightning were about to strike.
“He’s only a kilometer from here,” Wahib said. I gave an exasperated hiss through my teeth. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t feel we would make it a kilometer.
I looked up at the sky, realizing I didn’t see any more Israeli planes, missiles or helicopters anymore. Other than my own heartbeat, everything had gone totally silent and dead.
I heard the slightest rustle of sand behind me, as if a foot had just barely grazed it. I turned my head and saw something that still gives me chills.
Only about ten paces behind us loomed a ten foot tall creature with gray, stone-like skin. It moved like a mannequin, and it truly looked like the thing had been carved from granite. Only its joints were able to twist and bend, with all other parts of its body staying as stiff as a statue.
It had long, narrow arms that ended in sharp fingers, each of them gleaming and as long as garden shears. Its legs were inhumanly long and thin and ended in something almost like webbed feet. It had a single, bloody eye in the center of its face that rolled with insanity, its sclera yellowed and sickly-looking.
It opened an enormous mouth, its jaw ratcheting down as if it had whirring gears built into its head. Inside that unhinged jaw, I saw row after row of baby teeth. Thousands of children’s milk teeth gleamed, six or seven rows growing side by side with each other like tumors. Many of the teeth stuck out at odd angles, and some even had tiny versions of themselves growing out of the sides.
“It’s a Golem,” Wahib hissed as he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. We started running. I looked back at the gray, nightmarish creature plodding forward. It continued to gnash its twisted, ingrown teeth at the air. “A Golem made from spirit and rock, sent by the enemy.”
“Good thing I saw it,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t. The world stayed silent and dead, as if we had entered some shadow world of emptiness, an unpopulated and eerie facsimile of normal reality.
We turned down an alleyway, still trying to find the home of the fixer who would get us into Egypt. I think both of us knew that we weren’t going anywhere, however. I knew he wouldn’t be home, just as no one else was home, just as the once-busy streets had all gone mysteriously empty.
As we got out of the winding, tight alleyway and past the stucco houses, I heard rustling again. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“He’s close,” I whispered to Wahib, who nodded grimly. We went out onto the street. There was no light anymore. The bombings had knocked out electricity. I couldn’t see far, so I didn’t notice as the eldritch abomination attacked us from behind.
I felt like I had been struck by a train. I went flying, smashing into the front door of an apartment building. I felt something in my arm crack and heard the bone snap. Gritting my teeth, I rolled on the ground as the Golem charged me. For such a large, heavy creature made of stone, it moved silently, its granite feet blurring across the sand like a whisper.
Wahib uttered a single word in some language I had never heard before- certainly not Arabic, English or Hebrew. It sounded ancient and guttural, like the word itself was a piece of the heart ripped out and made into sound.
A creature made of smokeless fire appeared in front of the charging Golem. The creature’s black body looked translucent, its limbs twisted and snake-like, its face just a mask of constantly-shifting shadows. In its heart and its eyes, I saw the orange currents of flame whirling and spinning.
“A jinn,” I whispered, amazed. Wahib had claimed he could control “his Jinn”, as he called it, but he was always afraid to bring it out. I had never seen a Jinn, and before this moment, I wasn’t even sure they really existed.
The Golem roared in fury, its deep, inhuman voice thundering across the empty streets. It brought its sharp fingers up in a swiping motion, aiming at the Jinn’s fiery eyes, but the Jinn pulled back. Its right arm stretched out like a boa constrictor, growing thinner and wispier as it wrapped around the Golem’s neck. The Golem’s giant, rolling eye bulged in its socket as its wind was cut off. It threw itself forward, tackling the Jinn to the ground. They started rolling, clawing and biting. Deep gashes appeared in the Golem’s stone skin, and the Jinn’s shadow flesh shot out small, dying blue flames when injured.
“Come on, we have to go,” Wahib whispered. I jumped, not even realizing he had snuck over to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up. I groaned softly as I looked down at my mangled, twisted arm. I felt like I had cracked a few ribs as well. Every breath hurt like fire. The sounds of the two creatures fighting followed us far down the empty, labyrinthine streets.
“Did the Golem pull us into this alternate shadow reality, do you think?” I said.
“I think that’s probably how they hunt,” Wahib said simply, his expression grim.
“So we can’t get out until the Golem dies?” He shrugged.
“This has never happened to me before, but I would think if the Golem pulled us in here, then his death should free us,” Wahib said.
“And what if they continue to fight forever, the Jinn and the Golem?” I asked. Wahib just shook his head.
I noticed I still had internet on my phone, however. I decided to write down what happened with one hand. I can’t use my other hand, and my arm is extremely swollen. A piece of the bone is poking out through the skin. I really hope I can find medical attention somehow.
All I know now is that we somehow got trapped in this empty shadow world when the Golem chose us as its victims.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
***
As the night progressed, we kept wandering through the empty, dark streets. Hours and hours passed, but the Sun never seemed to come up. We wandered for days, but couldn’t find any sign of the Jinn or the Golem.
We started going into houses and looking for weapons. One house had automatic rifles, grenades and ammo. Wahib and I both took some.
On the third day, we heard hissing like the sizzling of electricity from far away. We went forward and found the Jinn, half-dead and covered in deep gashes. The fire in his eyes had faded to almost nothing.
“The Golem has won,” it said, pointing down the road. There, I saw it standing, one arm ripped off but its eyes triumphant. It rushed at us, and Wahib and I opened fire.
It came like a runaway train pounding the street and smashed into Wahib, clawing him with its one remaining hand. He died, but as he died, he pulled the pin on a grenade.
A fiery explosion rocked the street as the Golem disappeared in the blast. With a popping sound, the world came back, the streets filled with scared and starving people.
I was home.

I have always lived in poverty and discomfort. My family used to have a house, land and enough money to live comfortably, but that was many years ago. That was before Israel bulldozed our homes and forced us into a ghetto. Now we are treated worse than animals, murdered, bombed and tortured at will by the invading army. I know this from personal experience- from the experiences of myself and my family.
My grandmother’s sister had been one of the victims of the Safsaf Massacre back in 1948, when the Israeli Army had gathered up all the people in a small town. They started by taking the young girls and women aside, ripping them out of the arms of their family. When the girls came back crying and pleading for help, their clothes ripped to shreds, the Israelis had only laughed.
That was when they started shooting the townspeople, massacring them and throwing them alive down wells. My grandmother’s sister was one of the girls that was raped and then murdered by the Israeli military in the Safsaf Massacre.
So I know exactly what Israel is capable of, what kind of sick and evil place that festering country truly is. When the bombs started falling in 2023, I knew I needed to get out of Gaza.
The day that it started, I remember my mother running in the house, saying, “Jalel! You must get out of here. The Israelis just bombed the hospital and the school. They are targeting our homes and trying to wipe us out.” I stared at her for a long moment, feeling stunned and dissociated.
“Why would they do that?” I whispered. I had hoped the Israeli war crimes were a thing of the past.
“Because they hate us, that’s why!” she hissed. “They stole everything from us- our homes, our land, our jobs, our economy. But they won’t be happy until they steal our lives, too.”
***
Within days, Israel stopped everything from going into Gaza: food, electricity, medicine, even water. I saw many people die, especially the elderly, the sick and the very young. The constant strikes from Israel on our town shattered homes into piles of crushed rubble. Within months, tens of thousands of innocent people had died.
I stood on the roof, watching as thick clouds of black smoke snaked their way up into the clouds. Jets flew overhead, shaking the ground with sonic booms. I cringed every time one came low, not knowing if it would bomb my home as well. My friend, Wahib, stood by my side.
“Can’t you use your special gift to get us out of here?” I asked Wahib. He didn’t like it when I brought up his ability and his strange, invisible friend. Wahib shook his head, not meeting my eyes.
“I won’t call it up, unless I have to,” he said, looking sad and empty. “It is a dangerous thing, and I don’t know if I can control it for long.”
“Yes, but we’re going to die if we stay here,” I whispered, my heart sinking. He nodded.
“We need to get out of Gaza before the bombs truly start falling,” Wahib responded, shaking his head. “They’re probably going to kill hundreds of thousands of us this time. Just wipe us out like dogs.” He spat, disgusted. “I only hope there’s some justice in this world.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My grandmother’s sister had never gotten justice, after all, unless she was going to receive it on the Day of Judgment. And yet, as a reward for its war crimes, Israel simply got more funding from the US. No one seemed to care about the piles of bodies they were leaving behind in every Palestinian town.
“What about your family? What about my family?” I asked, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. My mother was sick with diabetes, and with Israel cutting off all medication to Gaza, she was rapidly getting worse. Wahib only shook his head.
“We can’t help them,” he said. “We need to help ourselves. We need to get out of this hellhole immediately, before the real genocide begins. They’re going to bomb every house they can.” As if to confirm what he said, a jet flew low overhead, so close I could see the six-pointed star on its gray metal skin, so close I could smell the jet fuel and fumes. Before I could respond, though, something fell out of it in a curving arc. Then it headed straight down, as graceful as an Olympic diver.
“Bomb!” I shrieked, but it was too late. Something blurred through the sky, leaving a dark green trail behind it. Wahib screamed and covered his head, ducking. Absurdly, I almost wanted to laugh when I saw that. As if ducking and covering his head would protect him from a bomb if it landed on our heads.
But the blur landed at the next house over, falling through the air so fast that I didn’t even have time to react. A flash and a sense of blinding heat consumed everything. I felt myself falling. I tried yelling, but I couldn’t hear my own screams over the cacophony of the blast. The smell of smoke and jet fuel and charred wood hung thick in the air like a cloud.
I don’t know how long I lay on the roof like that, just breathing, stunned and shell-shocked. But I came back quickly, blinking my eyes to clear the smoke and dust filling the air. I looked over at my neighbor’s house and saw an inferno of dancing flames. In the center, an enormous eye of fire swirled like a hurricane.
Screams echoed through the street. Then the front door opened and a young girl ran out, her body aflame, her hair lit up like a torch. Her skin blackened and melted as the fire consumed her. I could see drops of liquified fat and sizzling blood dripping off her nose. Her screams seemed to go on forever. Even now, when I close my eyes, I still hear it: the horror, the agony and the terror in that young girl’s voice as she died.
Wahib was suddenly standing over me, his shoulder-length black hair covered in tiny pieces of brick and gray dust. He blinked quickly, his eyes tearing up. He tried to say something, but only succeeded in coughing. Bent over, he retched, spitting up clear water.
I stumbled to my feet, pushing myself slowly up. I felt light-headed and dizzy. The Sun seemed far too bright, the air too hot. I thought I might pass out for a moment, but I steadied myself and focused on my breathing. Wahib straightened and looked me in the eyes.
“We need to leave- today. Right now,” he whispered, sounding as if he had sand in his throat. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I only nodded.
***
I told my mother I was leaving within a few hours. She didn’t look surprised, but her eyes grew misty.
“Make it out alive,” she said. “If you can make it to the EU, you will find peace and prosperity there. Not like this place.” She motioned out the window to the destroyed cars and piles of rubble littering the streets.
“But what will happen to you?” I asked, feeling sick. The first tears slipped down my cheeks. “Who will take care of you?” She just shook her head.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done so for fifty years already, haven’t I?” I gave her a weak smile as Wahib came in the door, carrying a backpack filled with supplies. I had my own backpack on already. I gave my mother a hug and turned to leave this desolate place behind, telling her I loved her.
I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I ever saw my mother.
***
Wahib and I set out down the road as the Sun faded behind the horizon, sending crimson streaks like drops of fresh blood dancing across the sky.
“I have a friend,” Wahib said, his dark eyes flashing, “but it will take money.”
“I brought everything I have,” I said, which was true. It wasn’t much, a few thousand dollars, but it was my entire life savings. I had worked for years to save that money.
“Well, we can get through to Egypt if we pay the man,” Wahib said. “It’s $2500 per person to get out, though.” My heart seemed to drop as he said this. Wahib just shook his head. “I know, I know, it’s all I have, too. More than I have, really. My mother gave me some of her money before I left, even though she needs it far more than me. I promised I would get a job when I got out of here and send her some of each paycheck, though.” I felt sick, thinking of losing my entire life savings in a single day. But I knew he was right. We needed to get out at any price, and we could hopefully always find higher-paying jobs somewhere else. After all, the Gazan economy was in the toilet.
We walked past apartment buildings with bare bricks exposed to the cool night air. A few one-story stucco houses with courtyards stood around us. A few hundred feet away, one of the houses had been hit by a bomb blast. Half of its roof hung askew, with the rest forming a giant, black crater in the center. Outside, the blackened shell of a moped stretched out across the sidewalk.
I noticed how empty the street was at that moment. It was highly unusual. There were always kids running around and yelling or people outside smoking or sitting. It felt like I had walked into a different world, one where everything had gone deathly silent except for my breathing and my pounding heart.
“Do you… feel something?” I asked Wahib, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shatter that silence. Wahib only nodded.
“Maybe we should turn around,” Wahib said, leaning over close to my ear and whispering. A cold spear of dread had sunken into my chest. A freezing wind blew down the desert street, carrying swirling clouds of sand as it passed.
“Where are we meeting this man?” I asked, nervous. I looked down at my hands and saw they were trembling. All the hairs on my body stood on end, as if lightning were about to strike.
“He’s only a kilometer from here,” Wahib said. I gave an exasperated hiss through my teeth. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t feel we would make it a kilometer.
I looked up at the sky, realizing I didn’t see any more Israeli planes, missiles or helicopters anymore. Other than my own heartbeat, everything had gone totally silent and dead.
I heard the slightest rustle of sand behind me, as if a foot had just barely grazed it. I turned my head and saw something that still gives me chills.
Only about ten paces behind us loomed a ten foot tall creature with gray, stone-like skin. It moved like a mannequin, and it truly looked like the thing had been carved from granite. Only its joints were able to twist and bend, with all other parts of its body staying as stiff as a statue.
It had long, narrow arms that ended in sharp fingers, each of them gleaming and as long as garden shears. Its legs were inhumanly long and thin and ended in something almost like webbed feet. It had a single, bloody eye in the center of its face that rolled with insanity, its sclera yellowed and sickly-looking.
It opened an enormous mouth, its jaw ratcheting down as if it had whirring gears built into its head. Inside that unhinged jaw, I saw row after row of baby teeth. Thousands of children’s milk teeth gleamed, six or seven rows growing side by side with each other like tumors. Many of the teeth stuck out at odd angles, and some even had tiny versions of themselves growing out of the sides.
“It’s a Golem,” Wahib hissed as he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. We started running. I looked back at the gray, nightmarish creature plodding forward. It continued to gnash its twisted, ingrown teeth at the air. “A Golem made from spirit and rock, sent by the enemy.”
“Good thing I saw it,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t. The world stayed silent and dead, as if we had entered some shadow world of emptiness, an unpopulated and eerie facsimile of normal reality.
We turned down an alleyway, still trying to find the home of the fixer who would get us into Egypt. I think both of us knew that we weren’t going anywhere, however. I knew he wouldn’t be home, just as no one else was home, just as the once-busy streets had all gone mysteriously empty.
As we got out of the winding, tight alleyway and past the stucco houses, I heard rustling again. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“He’s close,” I whispered to Wahib, who nodded grimly. We went out onto the street. There was no light anymore. The bombings had knocked out electricity. I couldn’t see far, so I didn’t notice as the eldritch abomination attacked us from behind.
I felt like I had been struck by a train. I went flying, smashing into the front door of an apartment building. I felt something in my arm crack and heard the bone snap. Gritting my teeth, I rolled on the ground as the Golem charged me. For such a large, heavy creature made of stone, it moved silently, its granite feet blurring across the sand like a whisper.
Wahib uttered a single word in some language I had never heard before- certainly not Arabic, English or Hebrew. It sounded ancient and guttural, like the word itself was a piece of the heart ripped out and made into sound.
A creature made of smokeless fire appeared in front of the charging Golem. The creature’s black body looked translucent, its limbs twisted and snake-like, its face just a mask of constantly-shifting shadows. In its heart and its eyes, I saw the orange currents of flame whirling and spinning.
“A jinn,” I whispered, amazed. Wahib had claimed he could control “his Jinn”, as he called it, but he was always afraid to bring it out. I had never seen a Jinn, and before this moment, I wasn’t even sure they really existed.
The Golem roared in fury, its deep, inhuman voice thundering across the empty streets. It brought its sharp fingers up in a swiping motion, aiming at the Jinn’s fiery eyes, but the Jinn pulled back. Its right arm stretched out like a boa constrictor, growing thinner and wispier as it wrapped around the Golem’s neck. The Golem’s giant, rolling eye bulged in its socket as its wind was cut off. It threw itself forward, tackling the Jinn to the ground. They started rolling, clawing and biting. Deep gashes appeared in the Golem’s stone skin, and the Jinn’s shadow flesh shot out small, dying blue flames when injured.
“Come on, we have to go,” Wahib whispered. I jumped, not even realizing he had snuck over to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up. I groaned softly as I looked down at my mangled, twisted arm. I felt like I had cracked a few ribs as well. Every breath hurt like fire. The sounds of the two creatures fighting followed us far down the empty, labyrinthine streets.
“Did the Golem pull us into this alternate shadow reality, do you think?” I said.
“I think that’s probably how they hunt,” Wahib said simply, his expression grim.
“So we can’t get out until the Golem dies?” He shrugged.
“This has never happened to me before, but I would think if the Golem pulled us in here, then his death should free us,” Wahib said.
“And what if they continue to fight forever, the Jinn and the Golem?” I asked. Wahib just shook his head.
I noticed I still had internet on my phone, however. I decided to write down what happened with one hand. I can’t use my other hand, and my arm is extremely swollen. A piece of the bone is poking out through the skin. I really hope I can find medical attention somehow.
All I know now is that we somehow got trapped in this empty shadow world when the Golem chose us as its victims.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
***
As the night progressed, we kept wandering through the empty, dark streets. Hours and hours passed, but the Sun never seemed to come up. We wandered for days, but couldn’t find any sign of the Jinn or the Golem.
We started going into houses and looking for weapons. One house had automatic rifles, grenades and ammo. Wahib and I both took some.
On the third day, we heard hissing like the sizzling of electricity from far away. We went forward and found the Jinn, half-dead and covered in deep gashes. The fire in his eyes had faded to almost nothing.
“The Golem has won,” it said, pointing down the road. There, I saw it standing, one arm ripped off but its eyes triumphant. It rushed at us, and Wahib and I opened fire.
It came like a runaway train pounding the street and smashed into Wahib, clawing him with its one remaining hand. He died, but as he died, he pulled the pin on a grenade.
A fiery explosion rocked the street as the Golem disappeared in the blast. With a popping sound, the world came back, the streets filled with scared and starving people.
I was home.

I have always lived in poverty and discomfort. My family used to have a house, land and enough money to live comfortably, but that was many years ago. That was before Israel bulldozed our homes and forced us into a ghetto. Now we are treated worse than animals, murdered, bombed and tortured at will by the invading army. I know this from personal experience- from the experiences of myself and my family.
My grandmother’s sister had been one of the victims of the Safsaf Massacre back in 1948, when the Israeli Army had gathered up all the people in a small town. They started by taking the young girls and women aside, ripping them out of the arms of their family. When the girls came back crying and pleading for help, their clothes ripped to shreds, the Israelis had only laughed.
That was when they started shooting the townspeople, massacring them and throwing them alive down wells. My grandmother’s sister was one of the girls that was raped and then murdered by the Israeli military in the Safsaf Massacre.
So I know exactly what Israel is capable of, what kind of sick and evil place that festering country truly is. When the bombs started falling in 2023, I knew I needed to get out of Gaza.
The day that it started, I remember my mother running in the house, saying, “Jalel! You must get out of here. The Israelis just bombed the hospital and the school. They are targeting our homes and trying to wipe us out.” I stared at her for a long moment, feeling stunned and dissociated.
“Why would they do that?” I whispered. I had hoped the Israeli war crimes were a thing of the past.
“Because they hate us, that’s why!” she hissed. “They stole everything from us- our homes, our land, our jobs, our economy. But they won’t be happy until they steal our lives, too.”
***
Within days, Israel stopped everything from going into Gaza: food, electricity, medicine, even water. I saw many people die, especially the elderly, the sick and the very young. The constant strikes from Israel on our town shattered homes into piles of crushed rubble. Within months, tens of thousands of innocent people had died.
I stood on the roof, watching as thick clouds of black smoke snaked their way up into the clouds. Jets flew overhead, shaking the ground with sonic booms. I cringed every time one came low, not knowing if it would bomb my home as well. My friend, Wahib, stood by my side.
“Can’t you use your special gift to get us out of here?” I asked Wahib. He didn’t like it when I brought up his ability and his strange, invisible friend. Wahib shook his head, not meeting my eyes.
“I won’t call it up, unless I have to,” he said, looking sad and empty. “It is a dangerous thing, and I don’t know if I can control it for long.”
“Yes, but we’re going to die if we stay here,” I whispered, my heart sinking. He nodded.
“We need to get out of Gaza before the bombs truly start falling,” Wahib responded, shaking his head. “They’re probably going to kill hundreds of thousands of us this time. Just wipe us out like dogs.” He spat, disgusted. “I only hope there’s some justice in this world.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My grandmother’s sister had never gotten justice, after all, unless she was going to receive it on the Day of Judgment. And yet, as a reward for its war crimes, Israel simply got more funding from the US. No one seemed to care about the piles of bodies they were leaving behind in every Palestinian town.
“What about your family? What about my family?” I asked, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. My mother was sick with diabetes, and with Israel cutting off all medication to Gaza, she was rapidly getting worse. Wahib only shook his head.
“We can’t help them,” he said. “We need to help ourselves. We need to get out of this hellhole immediately, before the real genocide begins. They’re going to bomb every house they can.” As if to confirm what he said, a jet flew low overhead, so close I could see the six-pointed star on its gray metal skin, so close I could smell the jet fuel and fumes. Before I could respond, though, something fell out of it in a curving arc. Then it headed straight down, as graceful as an Olympic diver.
“Bomb!” I shrieked, but it was too late. Something blurred through the sky, leaving a dark green trail behind it. Wahib screamed and covered his head, ducking. Absurdly, I almost wanted to laugh when I saw that. As if ducking and covering his head would protect him from a bomb if it landed on our heads.
But the blur landed at the next house over, falling through the air so fast that I didn’t even have time to react. A flash and a sense of blinding heat consumed everything. I felt myself falling. I tried yelling, but I couldn’t hear my own screams over the cacophony of the blast. The smell of smoke and jet fuel and charred wood hung thick in the air like a cloud.
I don’t know how long I lay on the roof like that, just breathing, stunned and shell-shocked. But I came back quickly, blinking my eyes to clear the smoke and dust filling the air. I looked over at my neighbor’s house and saw an inferno of dancing flames. In the center, an enormous eye of fire swirled like a hurricane.
Screams echoed through the street. Then the front door opened and a young girl ran out, her body aflame, her hair lit up like a torch. Her skin blackened and melted as the fire consumed her. I could see drops of liquified fat and sizzling blood dripping off her nose. Her screams seemed to go on forever. Even now, when I close my eyes, I still hear it: the horror, the agony and the terror in that young girl’s voice as she died.
Wahib was suddenly standing over me, his shoulder-length black hair covered in tiny pieces of brick and gray dust. He blinked quickly, his eyes tearing up. He tried to say something, but only succeeded in coughing. Bent over, he retched, spitting up clear water.
I stumbled to my feet, pushing myself slowly up. I felt light-headed and dizzy. The Sun seemed far too bright, the air too hot. I thought I might pass out for a moment, but I steadied myself and focused on my breathing. Wahib straightened and looked me in the eyes.
“We need to leave- today. Right now,” he whispered, sounding as if he had sand in his throat. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I only nodded.
***
I told my mother I was leaving within a few hours. She didn’t look surprised, but her eyes grew misty.
“Make it out alive,” she said. “If you can make it to the EU, you will find peace and prosperity there. Not like this place.” She motioned out the window to the destroyed cars and piles of rubble littering the streets.
“But what will happen to you?” I asked, feeling sick. The first tears slipped down my cheeks. “Who will take care of you?” She just shook her head.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done so for fifty years already, haven’t I?” I gave her a weak smile as Wahib came in the door, carrying a backpack filled with supplies. I had my own backpack on already. I gave my mother a hug and turned to leave this desolate place behind, telling her I loved her.
I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I ever saw my mother.
***
Wahib and I set out down the road as the Sun faded behind the horizon, sending crimson streaks like drops of fresh blood dancing across the sky.
“I have a friend,” Wahib said, his dark eyes flashing, “but it will take money.”
“I brought everything I have,” I said, which was true. It wasn’t much, a few thousand dollars, but it was my entire life savings. I had worked for years to save that money.
“Well, we can get through to Egypt if we pay the man,” Wahib said. “It’s $2500 per person to get out, though.” My heart seemed to drop as he said this. Wahib just shook his head. “I know, I know, it’s all I have, too. More than I have, really. My mother gave me some of her money before I left, even though she needs it far more than me. I promised I would get a job when I got out of here and send her some of each paycheck, though.” I felt sick, thinking of losing my entire life savings in a single day. But I knew he was right. We needed to get out at any price, and we could hopefully always find higher-paying jobs somewhere else. After all, the Gazan economy was in the toilet.
We walked past apartment buildings with bare bricks exposed to the cool night air. A few one-story stucco houses with courtyards stood around us. A few hundred feet away, one of the houses had been hit by a bomb blast. Half of its roof hung askew, with the rest forming a giant, black crater in the center. Outside, the blackened shell of a moped stretched out across the sidewalk.
I noticed how empty the street was at that moment. It was highly unusual. There were always kids running around and yelling or people outside smoking or sitting. It felt like I had walked into a different world, one where everything had gone deathly silent except for my breathing and my pounding heart.
“Do you… feel something?” I asked Wahib, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shatter that silence. Wahib only nodded.
“Maybe we should turn around,” Wahib said, leaning over close to my ear and whispering. A cold spear of dread had sunken into my chest. A freezing wind blew down the desert street, carrying swirling clouds of sand as it passed.
“Where are we meeting this man?” I asked, nervous. I looked down at my hands and saw they were trembling. All the hairs on my body stood on end, as if lightning were about to strike.
“He’s only a kilometer from here,” Wahib said. I gave an exasperated hiss through my teeth. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t feel we would make it a kilometer.
I looked up at the sky, realizing I didn’t see any more Israeli planes, missiles or helicopters anymore. Other than my own heartbeat, everything had gone totally silent and dead.
I heard the slightest rustle of sand behind me, as if a foot had just barely grazed it. I turned my head and saw something that still gives me chills.
Only about ten paces behind us loomed a ten foot tall creature with gray, stone-like skin. It moved like a mannequin, and it truly looked like the thing had been carved from granite. Only its joints were able to twist and bend, with all other parts of its body staying as stiff as a statue.
It had long, narrow arms that ended in sharp fingers, each of them gleaming and as long as garden shears. Its legs were inhumanly long and thin and ended in something almost like webbed feet. It had a single, bloody eye in the center of its face that rolled with insanity, its sclera yellowed and sickly-looking.
It opened an enormous mouth, its jaw ratcheting down as if it had whirring gears built into its head. Inside that unhinged jaw, I saw row after row of baby teeth. Thousands of children’s milk teeth gleamed, six or seven rows growing side by side with each other like tumors. Many of the teeth stuck out at odd angles, and some even had tiny versions of themselves growing out of the sides.
“It’s a Golem,” Wahib hissed as he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. We started running. I looked back at the gray, nightmarish creature plodding forward. It continued to gnash its twisted, ingrown teeth at the air. “A Golem made from spirit and rock, sent by the enemy.”
“Good thing I saw it,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t. The world stayed silent and dead, as if we had entered some shadow world of emptiness, an unpopulated and eerie facsimile of normal reality.
We turned down an alleyway, still trying to find the home of the fixer who would get us into Egypt. I think both of us knew that we weren’t going anywhere, however. I knew he wouldn’t be home, just as no one else was home, just as the once-busy streets had all gone mysteriously empty.
As we got out of the winding, tight alleyway and past the stucco houses, I heard rustling again. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“He’s close,” I whispered to Wahib, who nodded grimly. We went out onto the street. There was no light anymore. The bombings had knocked out electricity. I couldn’t see far, so I didn’t notice as the eldritch abomination attacked us from behind.
I felt like I had been struck by a train. I went flying, smashing into the front door of an apartment building. I felt something in my arm crack and heard the bone snap. Gritting my teeth, I rolled on the ground as the Golem charged me. For such a large, heavy creature made of stone, it moved silently, its granite feet blurring across the sand like a whisper.
Wahib uttered a single word in some language I had never heard before- certainly not Arabic, English or Hebrew. It sounded ancient and guttural, like the word itself was a piece of the heart ripped out and made into sound.
A creature made of smokeless fire appeared in front of the charging Golem. The creature’s black body looked translucent, its limbs twisted and snake-like, its face just a mask of constantly-shifting shadows. In its heart and its eyes, I saw the orange currents of flame whirling and spinning.
“A jinn,” I whispered, amazed. Wahib had claimed he could control “his Jinn”, as he called it, but he was always afraid to bring it out. I had never seen a Jinn, and before this moment, I wasn’t even sure they really existed.
The Golem roared in fury, its deep, inhuman voice thundering across the empty streets. It brought its sharp fingers up in a swiping motion, aiming at the Jinn’s fiery eyes, but the Jinn pulled back. Its right arm stretched out like a boa constrictor, growing thinner and wispier as it wrapped around the Golem’s neck. The Golem’s giant, rolling eye bulged in its socket as its wind was cut off. It threw itself forward, tackling the Jinn to the ground. They started rolling, clawing and biting. Deep gashes appeared in the Golem’s stone skin, and the Jinn’s shadow flesh shot out small, dying blue flames when injured.
“Come on, we have to go,” Wahib whispered. I jumped, not even realizing he had snuck over to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up. I groaned softly as I looked down at my mangled, twisted arm. I felt like I had cracked a few ribs as well. Every breath hurt like fire. The sounds of the two creatures fighting followed us far down the empty, labyrinthine streets.
“Did the Golem pull us into this alternate shadow reality, do you think?” I said.
“I think that’s probably how they hunt,” Wahib said simply, his expression grim.
“So we can’t get out until the Golem dies?” He shrugged.
“This has never happened to me before, but I would think if the Golem pulled us in here, then his death should free us,” Wahib said.
“And what if they continue to fight forever, the Jinn and the Golem?” I asked. Wahib just shook his head.
I noticed I still had internet on my phone, however. I decided to write down what happened with one hand. I can’t use my other hand, and my arm is extremely swollen. A piece of the bone is poking out through the skin. I really hope I can find medical attention somehow.
All I know now is that we somehow got trapped in this empty shadow world when the Golem chose us as its victims.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
***
As the night progressed, we kept wandering through the empty, dark streets. Hours and hours passed, but the Sun never seemed to come up. We wandered for days, but couldn’t find any sign of the Jinn or the Golem.
We started going into houses and looking for weapons. One house had automatic rifles, grenades and ammo. Wahib and I both took some.
On the third day, we heard hissing like the sizzling of electricity from far away. We went forward and found the Jinn, half-dead and covered in deep gashes. The fire in his eyes had faded to almost nothing.
“The Golem has won,” it said, pointing down the road. There, I saw it standing, one arm ripped off but its eyes triumphant. It rushed at us, and Wahib and I opened fire.
It came like a runaway train pounding the street and smashed into Wahib, clawing him with its one remaining hand. He died, but as he died, he pulled the pin on a grenade.
A fiery explosion rocked the street as the Golem disappeared in the blast. With a popping sound, the world came back, the streets filled with scared and starving people.
I was home.

I have always lived in poverty and discomfort. My family used to have a house, land and enough money to live comfortably, but that was many years ago. That was before Israel bulldozed our homes and forced us into a ghetto. Now we are treated worse than animals, murdered, bombed and tortured at will by the invading army. I know this from personal experience- from the experiences of myself and my family.
My grandmother’s sister had been one of the victims of the Safsaf Massacre back in 1948, when the Israeli Army had gathered up all the people in a small town. They started by taking the young girls and women aside, ripping them out of the arms of their family. When the girls came back crying and pleading for help, their clothes ripped to shreds, the Israelis had only laughed.
That was when they started shooting the townspeople, massacring them and throwing them alive down wells. My grandmother’s sister was one of the girls that was raped and then murdered by the Israeli military in the Safsaf Massacre.
So I know exactly what Israel is capable of, what kind of sick and evil place that festering country truly is. When the bombs started falling in 2023, I knew I needed to get out of Gaza.
The day that it started, I remember my mother running in the house, saying, “Jalel! You must get out of here. The Israelis just bombed the hospital and the school. They are targeting our homes and trying to wipe us out.” I stared at her for a long moment, feeling stunned and dissociated.
“Why would they do that?” I whispered. I had hoped the Israeli war crimes were a thing of the past.
“Because they hate us, that’s why!” she hissed. “They stole everything from us- our homes, our land, our jobs, our economy. But they won’t be happy until they steal our lives, too.”
***
Within days, Israel stopped everything from going into Gaza: food, electricity, medicine, even water. I saw many people die, especially the elderly, the sick and the very young. The constant strikes from Israel on our town shattered homes into piles of crushed rubble. Within months, tens of thousands of innocent people had died.
I stood on the roof, watching as thick clouds of black smoke snaked their way up into the clouds. Jets flew overhead, shaking the ground with sonic booms. I cringed every time one came low, not knowing if it would bomb my home as well. My friend, Wahib, stood by my side.
“Can’t you use your special gift to get us out of here?” I asked Wahib. He didn’t like it when I brought up his ability and his strange, invisible friend. Wahib shook his head, not meeting my eyes.
“I won’t call it up, unless I have to,” he said, looking sad and empty. “It is a dangerous thing, and I don’t know if I can control it for long.”
“Yes, but we’re going to die if we stay here,” I whispered, my heart sinking. He nodded.
“We need to get out of Gaza before the bombs truly start falling,” Wahib responded, shaking his head. “They’re probably going to kill hundreds of thousands of us this time. Just wipe us out like dogs.” He spat, disgusted. “I only hope there’s some justice in this world.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My grandmother’s sister had never gotten justice, after all, unless she was going to receive it on the Day of Judgment. And yet, as a reward for its war crimes, Israel simply got more funding from the US. No one seemed to care about the piles of bodies they were leaving behind in every Palestinian town.
“What about your family? What about my family?” I asked, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. My mother was sick with diabetes, and with Israel cutting off all medication to Gaza, she was rapidly getting worse. Wahib only shook his head.
“We can’t help them,” he said. “We need to help ourselves. We need to get out of this hellhole immediately, before the real genocide begins. They’re going to bomb every house they can.” As if to confirm what he said, a jet flew low overhead, so close I could see the six-pointed star on its gray metal skin, so close I could smell the jet fuel and fumes. Before I could respond, though, something fell out of it in a curving arc. Then it headed straight down, as graceful as an Olympic diver.
“Bomb!” I shrieked, but it was too late. Something blurred through the sky, leaving a dark green trail behind it. Wahib screamed and covered his head, ducking. Absurdly, I almost wanted to laugh when I saw that. As if ducking and covering his head would protect him from a bomb if it landed on our heads.
But the blur landed at the next house over, falling through the air so fast that I didn’t even have time to react. A flash and a sense of blinding heat consumed everything. I felt myself falling. I tried yelling, but I couldn’t hear my own screams over the cacophony of the blast. The smell of smoke and jet fuel and charred wood hung thick in the air like a cloud.
I don’t know how long I lay on the roof like that, just breathing, stunned and shell-shocked. But I came back quickly, blinking my eyes to clear the smoke and dust filling the air. I looked over at my neighbor’s house and saw an inferno of dancing flames. In the center, an enormous eye of fire swirled like a hurricane.
Screams echoed through the street. Then the front door opened and a young girl ran out, her body aflame, her hair lit up like a torch. Her skin blackened and melted as the fire consumed her. I could see drops of liquified fat and sizzling blood dripping off her nose. Her screams seemed to go on forever. Even now, when I close my eyes, I still hear it: the horror, the agony and the terror in that young girl’s voice as she died.
Wahib was suddenly standing over me, his shoulder-length black hair covered in tiny pieces of brick and gray dust. He blinked quickly, his eyes tearing up. He tried to say something, but only succeeded in coughing. Bent over, he retched, spitting up clear water.
I stumbled to my feet, pushing myself slowly up. I felt light-headed and dizzy. The Sun seemed far too bright, the air too hot. I thought I might pass out for a moment, but I steadied myself and focused on my breathing. Wahib straightened and looked me in the eyes.
“We need to leave- today. Right now,” he whispered, sounding as if he had sand in his throat. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I only nodded.
***
I told my mother I was leaving within a few hours. She didn’t look surprised, but her eyes grew misty.
“Make it out alive,” she said. “If you can make it to the EU, you will find peace and prosperity there. Not like this place.” She motioned out the window to the destroyed cars and piles of rubble littering the streets.
“But what will happen to you?” I asked, feeling sick. The first tears slipped down my cheeks. “Who will take care of you?” She just shook her head.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done so for fifty years already, haven’t I?” I gave her a weak smile as Wahib came in the door, carrying a backpack filled with supplies. I had my own backpack on already. I gave my mother a hug and turned to leave this desolate place behind, telling her I loved her.
I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I ever saw my mother.
***
Wahib and I set out down the road as the Sun faded behind the horizon, sending crimson streaks like drops of fresh blood dancing across the sky.
“I have a friend,” Wahib said, his dark eyes flashing, “but it will take money.”
“I brought everything I have,” I said, which was true. It wasn’t much, a few thousand dollars, but it was my entire life savings. I had worked for years to save that money.
“Well, we can get through to Egypt if we pay the man,” Wahib said. “It’s $2500 per person to get out, though.” My heart seemed to drop as he said this. Wahib just shook his head. “I know, I know, it’s all I have, too. More than I have, really. My mother gave me some of her money before I left, even though she needs it far more than me. I promised I would get a job when I got out of here and send her some of each paycheck, though.” I felt sick, thinking of losing my entire life savings in a single day. But I knew he was right. We needed to get out at any price, and we could hopefully always find higher-paying jobs somewhere else. After all, the Gazan economy was in the toilet.
We walked past apartment buildings with bare bricks exposed to the cool night air. A few one-story stucco houses with courtyards stood around us. A few hundred feet away, one of the houses had been hit by a bomb blast. Half of its roof hung askew, with the rest forming a giant, black crater in the center. Outside, the blackened shell of a moped stretched out across the sidewalk.
I noticed how empty the street was at that moment. It was highly unusual. There were always kids running around and yelling or people outside smoking or sitting. It felt like I had walked into a different world, one where everything had gone deathly silent except for my breathing and my pounding heart.
“Do you… feel something?” I asked Wahib, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shatter that silence. Wahib only nodded.
“Maybe we should turn around,” Wahib said, leaning over close to my ear and whispering. A cold spear of dread had sunken into my chest. A freezing wind blew down the desert street, carrying swirling clouds of sand as it passed.
“Where are we meeting this man?” I asked, nervous. I looked down at my hands and saw they were trembling. All the hairs on my body stood on end, as if lightning were about to strike.
“He’s only a kilometer from here,” Wahib said. I gave an exasperated hiss through my teeth. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t feel we would make it a kilometer.
I looked up at the sky, realizing I didn’t see any more Israeli planes, missiles or helicopters anymore. Other than my own heartbeat, everything had gone totally silent and dead.
I heard the slightest rustle of sand behind me, as if a foot had just barely grazed it. I turned my head and saw something that still gives me chills.
Only about ten paces behind us loomed a ten foot tall creature with gray, stone-like skin. It moved like a mannequin, and it truly looked like the thing had been carved from granite. Only its joints were able to twist and bend, with all other parts of its body staying as stiff as a statue.
It had long, narrow arms that ended in sharp fingers, each of them gleaming and as long as garden shears. Its legs were inhumanly long and thin and ended in something almost like webbed feet. It had a single, bloody eye in the center of its face that rolled with insanity, its sclera yellowed and sickly-looking.
It opened an enormous mouth, its jaw ratcheting down as if it had whirring gears built into its head. Inside that unhinged jaw, I saw row after row of baby teeth. Thousands of children’s milk teeth gleamed, six or seven rows growing side by side with each other like tumors. Many of the teeth stuck out at odd angles, and some even had tiny versions of themselves growing out of the sides.
“It’s a Golem,” Wahib hissed as he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. We started running. I looked back at the gray, nightmarish creature plodding forward. It continued to gnash its twisted, ingrown teeth at the air. “A Golem made from spirit and rock, sent by the enemy.”
“Good thing I saw it,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t. The world stayed silent and dead, as if we had entered some shadow world of emptiness, an unpopulated and eerie facsimile of normal reality.
We turned down an alleyway, still trying to find the home of the fixer who would get us into Egypt. I think both of us knew that we weren’t going anywhere, however. I knew he wouldn’t be home, just as no one else was home, just as the once-busy streets had all gone mysteriously empty.
As we got out of the winding, tight alleyway and past the stucco houses, I heard rustling again. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“He’s close,” I whispered to Wahib, who nodded grimly. We went out onto the street. There was no light anymore. The bombings had knocked out electricity. I couldn’t see far, so I didn’t notice as the eldritch abomination attacked us from behind.
I felt like I had been struck by a train. I went flying, smashing into the front door of an apartment building. I felt something in my arm crack and heard the bone snap. Gritting my teeth, I rolled on the ground as the Golem charged me. For such a large, heavy creature made of stone, it moved silently, its granite feet blurring across the sand like a whisper.
Wahib uttered a single word in some language I had never heard before- certainly not Arabic, English or Hebrew. It sounded ancient and guttural, like the word itself was a piece of the heart ripped out and made into sound.
A creature made of smokeless fire appeared in front of the charging Golem. The creature’s black body looked translucent, its limbs twisted and snake-like, its face just a mask of constantly-shifting shadows. In its heart and its eyes, I saw the orange currents of flame whirling and spinning.
“A jinn,” I whispered, amazed. Wahib had claimed he could control “his Jinn”, as he called it, but he was always afraid to bring it out. I had never seen a Jinn, and before this moment, I wasn’t even sure they really existed.
The Golem roared in fury, its deep, inhuman voice thundering across the empty streets. It brought its sharp fingers up in a swiping motion, aiming at the Jinn’s fiery eyes, but the Jinn pulled back. Its right arm stretched out like a boa constrictor, growing thinner and wispier as it wrapped around the Golem’s neck. The Golem’s giant, rolling eye bulged in its socket as its wind was cut off. It threw itself forward, tackling the Jinn to the ground. They started rolling, clawing and biting. Deep gashes appeared in the Golem’s stone skin, and the Jinn’s shadow flesh shot out small, dying blue flames when injured.
“Come on, we have to go,” Wahib whispered. I jumped, not even realizing he had snuck over to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up. I groaned softly as I looked down at my mangled, twisted arm. I felt like I had cracked a few ribs as well. Every breath hurt like fire. The sounds of the two creatures fighting followed us far down the empty, labyrinthine streets.
“Did the Golem pull us into this alternate shadow reality, do you think?” I said.
“I think that’s probably how they hunt,” Wahib said simply, his expression grim.
“So we can’t get out until the Golem dies?” He shrugged.
“This has never happened to me before, but I would think if the Golem pulled us in here, then his death should free us,” Wahib said.
“And what if they continue to fight forever, the Jinn and the Golem?” I asked. Wahib just shook his head.
I noticed I still had internet on my phone, however. I decided to write down what happened with one hand. I can’t use my other hand, and my arm is extremely swollen. A piece of the bone is poking out through the skin. I really hope I can find medical attention somehow.
All I know now is that we somehow got trapped in this empty shadow world when the Golem chose us as its victims.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
***
As the night progressed, we kept wandering through the empty, dark streets. Hours and hours passed, but the Sun never seemed to come up. We wandered for days, but couldn’t find any sign of the Jinn or the Golem.
We started going into houses and looking for weapons. One house had automatic rifles, grenades and ammo. Wahib and I both took some.
On the third day, we heard hissing like the sizzling of electricity from far away. We went forward and found the Jinn, half-dead and covered in deep gashes. The fire in his eyes had faded to almost nothing.
“The Golem has won,” it said, pointing down the road. There, I saw it standing, one arm ripped off but its eyes triumphant. It rushed at us, and Wahib and I opened fire.
It came like a runaway train pounding the street and smashed into Wahib, clawing him with its one remaining hand. He died, but as he died, he pulled the pin on a grenade.
A fiery explosion rocked the street as the Golem disappeared in the blast. With a popping sound, the world came back, the streets filled with scared and starving people.
I was home.

I have always lived in poverty and discomfort. My family used to have a house, land and enough money to live comfortably, but that was many years ago. That was before Israel bulldozed our homes and forced us into a ghetto. Now we are treated worse than animals, murdered, bombed and tortured at will by the invading army. I know this from personal experience- from the experiences of myself and my family.
My grandmother’s sister had been one of the victims of the Safsaf Massacre back in 1948, when the Israeli Army had gathered up all the people in a small town. They started by taking the young girls and women aside, ripping them out of the arms of their family. When the girls came back crying and pleading for help, their clothes ripped to shreds, the Israelis had only laughed.
That was when they started shooting the townspeople, massacring them and throwing them alive down wells. My grandmother’s sister was one of the girls that was raped and then murdered by the Israeli military in the Safsaf Massacre.
So I know exactly what Israel is capable of, what kind of sick and evil place that festering country truly is. When the bombs started falling in 2023, I knew I needed to get out of Gaza.
The day that it started, I remember my mother running in the house, saying, “Jalel! You must get out of here. The Israelis just bombed the hospital and the school. They are targeting our homes and trying to wipe us out.” I stared at her for a long moment, feeling stunned and dissociated.
“Why would they do that?” I whispered. I had hoped the Israeli war crimes were a thing of the past.
“Because they hate us, that’s why!” she hissed. “They stole everything from us- our homes, our land, our jobs, our economy. But they won’t be happy until they steal our lives, too.”
***
Within days, Israel stopped everything from going into Gaza: food, electricity, medicine, even water. I saw many people die, especially the elderly, the sick and the very young. The constant strikes from Israel on our town shattered homes into piles of crushed rubble. Within months, tens of thousands of innocent people had died.
I stood on the roof, watching as thick clouds of black smoke snaked their way up into the clouds. Jets flew overhead, shaking the ground with sonic booms. I cringed every time one came low, not knowing if it would bomb my home as well. My friend, Wahib, stood by my side.
“Can’t you use your special gift to get us out of here?” I asked Wahib. He didn’t like it when I brought up his ability and his strange, invisible friend. Wahib shook his head, not meeting my eyes.
“I won’t call it up, unless I have to,” he said, looking sad and empty. “It is a dangerous thing, and I don’t know if I can control it for long.”
“Yes, but we’re going to die if we stay here,” I whispered, my heart sinking. He nodded.
“We need to get out of Gaza before the bombs truly start falling,” Wahib responded, shaking his head. “They’re probably going to kill hundreds of thousands of us this time. Just wipe us out like dogs.” He spat, disgusted. “I only hope there’s some justice in this world.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My grandmother’s sister had never gotten justice, after all, unless she was going to receive it on the Day of Judgment. And yet, as a reward for its war crimes, Israel simply got more funding from the US. No one seemed to care about the piles of bodies they were leaving behind in every Palestinian town.
“What about your family? What about my family?” I asked, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. My mother was sick with diabetes, and with Israel cutting off all medication to Gaza, she was rapidly getting worse. Wahib only shook his head.
“We can’t help them,” he said. “We need to help ourselves. We need to get out of this hellhole immediately, before the real genocide begins. They’re going to bomb every house they can.” As if to confirm what he said, a jet flew low overhead, so close I could see the six-pointed star on its gray metal skin, so close I could smell the jet fuel and fumes. Before I could respond, though, something fell out of it in a curving arc. Then it headed straight down, as graceful as an Olympic diver.
“Bomb!” I shrieked, but it was too late. Something blurred through the sky, leaving a dark green trail behind it. Wahib screamed and covered his head, ducking. Absurdly, I almost wanted to laugh when I saw that. As if ducking and covering his head would protect him from a bomb if it landed on our heads.
But the blur landed at the next house over, falling through the air so fast that I didn’t even have time to react. A flash and a sense of blinding heat consumed everything. I felt myself falling. I tried yelling, but I couldn’t hear my own screams over the cacophony of the blast. The smell of smoke and jet fuel and charred wood hung thick in the air like a cloud.
I don’t know how long I lay on the roof like that, just breathing, stunned and shell-shocked. But I came back quickly, blinking my eyes to clear the smoke and dust filling the air. I looked over at my neighbor’s house and saw an inferno of dancing flames. In the center, an enormous eye of fire swirled like a hurricane.
Screams echoed through the street. Then the front door opened and a young girl ran out, her body aflame, her hair lit up like a torch. Her skin blackened and melted as the fire consumed her. I could see drops of liquified fat and sizzling blood dripping off her nose. Her screams seemed to go on forever. Even now, when I close my eyes, I still hear it: the horror, the agony and the terror in that young girl’s voice as she died.
Wahib was suddenly standing over me, his shoulder-length black hair covered in tiny pieces of brick and gray dust. He blinked quickly, his eyes tearing up. He tried to say something, but only succeeded in coughing. Bent over, he retched, spitting up clear water.
I stumbled to my feet, pushing myself slowly up. I felt light-headed and dizzy. The Sun seemed far too bright, the air too hot. I thought I might pass out for a moment, but I steadied myself and focused on my breathing. Wahib straightened and looked me in the eyes.
“We need to leave- today. Right now,” he whispered, sounding as if he had sand in his throat. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I only nodded.
***
I told my mother I was leaving within a few hours. She didn’t look surprised, but her eyes grew misty.
“Make it out alive,” she said. “If you can make it to the EU, you will find peace and prosperity there. Not like this place.” She motioned out the window to the destroyed cars and piles of rubble littering the streets.
“But what will happen to you?” I asked, feeling sick. The first tears slipped down my cheeks. “Who will take care of you?” She just shook her head.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done so for fifty years already, haven’t I?” I gave her a weak smile as Wahib came in the door, carrying a backpack filled with supplies. I had my own backpack on already. I gave my mother a hug and turned to leave this desolate place behind, telling her I loved her.
I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I ever saw my mother.
***
Wahib and I set out down the road as the Sun faded behind the horizon, sending crimson streaks like drops of fresh blood dancing across the sky.
“I have a friend,” Wahib said, his dark eyes flashing, “but it will take money.”
“I brought everything I have,” I said, which was true. It wasn’t much, a few thousand dollars, but it was my entire life savings. I had worked for years to save that money.
“Well, we can get through to Egypt if we pay the man,” Wahib said. “It’s $2500 per person to get out, though.” My heart seemed to drop as he said this. Wahib just shook his head. “I know, I know, it’s all I have, too. More than I have, really. My mother gave me some of her money before I left, even though she needs it far more than me. I promised I would get a job when I got out of here and send her some of each paycheck, though.” I felt sick, thinking of losing my entire life savings in a single day. But I knew he was right. We needed to get out at any price, and we could hopefully always find higher-paying jobs somewhere else. After all, the Gazan economy was in the toilet.
We walked past apartment buildings with bare bricks exposed to the cool night air. A few one-story stucco houses with courtyards stood around us. A few hundred feet away, one of the houses had been hit by a bomb blast. Half of its roof hung askew, with the rest forming a giant, black crater in the center. Outside, the blackened shell of a moped stretched out across the sidewalk.
I noticed how empty the street was at that moment. It was highly unusual. There were always kids running around and yelling or people outside smoking or sitting. It felt like I had walked into a different world, one where everything had gone deathly silent except for my breathing and my pounding heart.
“Do you… feel something?” I asked Wahib, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shatter that silence. Wahib only nodded.
“Maybe we should turn around,” Wahib said, leaning over close to my ear and whispering. A cold spear of dread had sunken into my chest. A freezing wind blew down the desert street, carrying swirling clouds of sand as it passed.
“Where are we meeting this man?” I asked, nervous. I looked down at my hands and saw they were trembling. All the hairs on my body stood on end, as if lightning were about to strike.
“He’s only a kilometer from here,” Wahib said. I gave an exasperated hiss through my teeth. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t feel we would make it a kilometer.
I looked up at the sky, realizing I didn’t see any more Israeli planes, missiles or helicopters anymore. Other than my own heartbeat, everything had gone totally silent and dead.
I heard the slightest rustle of sand behind me, as if a foot had just barely grazed it. I turned my head and saw something that still gives me chills.
Only about ten paces behind us loomed a ten foot tall creature with gray, stone-like skin. It moved like a mannequin, and it truly looked like the thing had been carved from granite. Only its joints were able to twist and bend, with all other parts of its body staying as stiff as a statue.
It had long, narrow arms that ended in sharp fingers, each of them gleaming and as long as garden shears. Its legs were inhumanly long and thin and ended in something almost like webbed feet. It had a single, bloody eye in the center of its face that rolled with insanity, its sclera yellowed and sickly-looking.
It opened an enormous mouth, its jaw ratcheting down as if it had whirring gears built into its head. Inside that unhinged jaw, I saw row after row of baby teeth. Thousands of children’s milk teeth gleamed, six or seven rows growing side by side with each other like tumors. Many of the teeth stuck out at odd angles, and some even had tiny versions of themselves growing out of the sides.
“It’s a Golem,” Wahib hissed as he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. We started running. I looked back at the gray, nightmarish creature plodding forward. It continued to gnash its twisted, ingrown teeth at the air. “A Golem made from spirit and rock, sent by the enemy.”
“Good thing I saw it,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t. The world stayed silent and dead, as if we had entered some shadow world of emptiness, an unpopulated and eerie facsimile of normal reality.
We turned down an alleyway, still trying to find the home of the fixer who would get us into Egypt. I think both of us knew that we weren’t going anywhere, however. I knew he wouldn’t be home, just as no one else was home, just as the once-busy streets had all gone mysteriously empty.
As we got out of the winding, tight alleyway and past the stucco houses, I heard rustling again. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“He’s close,” I whispered to Wahib, who nodded grimly. We went out onto the street. There was no light anymore. The bombings had knocked out electricity. I couldn’t see far, so I didn’t notice as the eldritch abomination attacked us from behind.
I felt like I had been struck by a train. I went flying, smashing into the front door of an apartment building. I felt something in my arm crack and heard the bone snap. Gritting my teeth, I rolled on the ground as the Golem charged me. For such a large, heavy creature made of stone, it moved silently, its granite feet blurring across the sand like a whisper.
Wahib uttered a single word in some language I had never heard before- certainly not Arabic, English or Hebrew. It sounded ancient and guttural, like the word itself was a piece of the heart ripped out and made into sound.
A creature made of smokeless fire appeared in front of the charging Golem. The creature’s black body looked translucent, its limbs twisted and snake-like, its face just a mask of constantly-shifting shadows. In its heart and its eyes, I saw the orange currents of flame whirling and spinning.
“A jinn,” I whispered, amazed. Wahib had claimed he could control “his Jinn”, as he called it, but he was always afraid to bring it out. I had never seen a Jinn, and before this moment, I wasn’t even sure they really existed.
The Golem roared in fury, its deep, inhuman voice thundering across the empty streets. It brought its sharp fingers up in a swiping motion, aiming at the Jinn’s fiery eyes, but the Jinn pulled back. Its right arm stretched out like a boa constrictor, growing thinner and wispier as it wrapped around the Golem’s neck. The Golem’s giant, rolling eye bulged in its socket as its wind was cut off. It threw itself forward, tackling the Jinn to the ground. They started rolling, clawing and biting. Deep gashes appeared in the Golem’s stone skin, and the Jinn’s shadow flesh shot out small, dying blue flames when injured.
“Come on, we have to go,” Wahib whispered. I jumped, not even realizing he had snuck over to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up. I groaned softly as I looked down at my mangled, twisted arm. I felt like I had cracked a few ribs as well. Every breath hurt like fire. The sounds of the two creatures fighting followed us far down the empty, labyrinthine streets.
“Did the Golem pull us into this alternate shadow reality, do you think?” I said.
“I think that’s probably how they hunt,” Wahib said simply, his expression grim.
“So we can’t get out until the Golem dies?” He shrugged.
“This has never happened to me before, but I would think if the Golem pulled us in here, then his death should free us,” Wahib said.
“And what if they continue to fight forever, the Jinn and the Golem?” I asked. Wahib just shook his head.
I noticed I still had internet on my phone, however. I decided to write down what happened with one hand. I can’t use my other hand, and my arm is extremely swollen. A piece of the bone is poking out through the skin. I really hope I can find medical attention somehow.
All I know now is that we somehow got trapped in this empty shadow world when the Golem chose us as its victims.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
***
As the night progressed, we kept wandering through the empty, dark streets. Hours and hours passed, but the Sun never seemed to come up. We wandered for days, but couldn’t find any sign of the Jinn or the Golem.
We started going into houses and looking for weapons. One house had automatic rifles, grenades and ammo. Wahib and I both took some.
On the third day, we heard hissing like the sizzling of electricity from far away. We went forward and found the Jinn, half-dead and covered in deep gashes. The fire in his eyes had faded to almost nothing.
“The Golem has won,” it said, pointing down the road. There, I saw it standing, one arm ripped off but its eyes triumphant. It rushed at us, and Wahib and I opened fire.
It came like a runaway train pounding the street and smashed into Wahib, clawing him with its one remaining hand. He died, but as he died, he pulled the pin on a grenade.
A fiery explosion rocked the street as the Golem disappeared in the blast. With a popping sound, the world came back, the streets filled with scared and starving people.
I was home.

DISCLAIMER: My mind is broken after this. I recommend this to nobody. I should of done something productive.
(Bold quotes will be direct from the book.)

Praise for Gaza

Alice Walker

Alice Walker has had multiple accusations of antisemitism and praising David Icke. (Wikipedia)

One of Walker’s poems, “To Study The Talmud,” has also attracted widespread condemnation. In it, she describes her reaction when a Jewish friend (in the interview, she said it was her ex-husband) accused her “of appearing to be antisemitic.” The poem says that one should look to the Talmud in an effort to understand the state of Israel’s treatment of Palestinians, which she describes as “demonic.” (NYTimes)

Alfred de Zayas

"NATO is a criminal organization with a history of violence and violation of the UN Charter. The EU is a scam. We are living the totalitarian dystopia that George Orwell predicted."
"Alfred de Zayas says Russia's special military operation in Ukraine was a suitable response to NATO's imminent threat."
"De Zayas is not a Holocaust denier. But he is a hero to them. His publications and lectures are promoted on websites such as “Committee for Open Debate on the Holocaust.” It’s easy to see why."
"Alfred de Zayas, the UN 'expert' who denied the Holocaust, compared Fidel Castro to Gandhi and now defends the dictator Nicolás Maduro"

Quote

The massacre of innocent people is a serious matter. It is not a thing to be easily forgotten. It is our duty to cherish their memory. -Mahatma Gandhi

Finkelstein didn't cite the above quote in this book, yet used the same quote in another one of his books, This Time We Went Too Far: Truth and Consequences of the Gaza Invasion pg. 158. Footnote:

“Speech at Delhi Provincial Political Conference” (2 July 1947), Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi, v. 88, p. 263."

Maybe I'm blind, but I couldn't find this quote after reading the specific speech multiple times. (Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi Vol. 88)

​Preface

The notion that enhanced fireworks emanating from an anthill could, in and of themselves, inflect state policy of one of the world’s most formidable military powers is laughable—or would be, were it not for that power’s formidable disinformation apparatus. (pg. xii)

From 2001 to 2015 there were 12,338 rocket attacks and 6,500 mortar attacks that left 33 dead and 1971+ injured in Israel (prior to 2005 most of the attacks were against Israeli targets in the Gaza Strip.) Between October 7 2023-January 9th, Hamas fired 14,500+ rockets. Interestingly, these "enhanced fireworks" routinely fell short within Gaza and killed Palestinians. In the first couple weeks of the October 7th conflict, the IDF said more than 550 rockets had fallen short.
Human Rights Watch:

"Human Rights Watch has previously reported on rockets that have misfired and struck areas in Gaza. Research citing data released by the Israeli military has suggested that between 10 to 20 percent of rockets launched from Gaza have failed. Data on the overall numbers of projectiles (for example, rockets and mortars) fired as well as their success or failure rates are estimates and should not be considered precise."

References:
Rocket & Mortar Attacks Against Israel by Date
Palestinian rocket attacks on Israel - Wikipedia
IDF claims over 550 rockets fell short in Strip since outbreak of war The Times of Israel

Chapter One: Self-Defense

Page 3

Approximately 250,000 Palestinians driven out of their homes during the 1948 war fl ed to Gaza and overwhelmed the indigenous population of some 80,000.

Britannica:

Between 160,000 and 190,000 fled to the Gaza Strip. More than one-fifth of Palestinian Arabs left Palestine altogether. About 100,000 of these went to Lebanon, 100,000 to Jordan, between 75,000 and 90,000 to Syria, 7,000 to 10,000 to Egypt, and 4,000 to Iraq.

Refugees in the Gaza Strip, December 1948-May 1950 on JSTOR:

Refugees flooded in to the tiny area, with estimates of their numbers ranging between 83,000 (September 1948) and 250,000 (December 1948). By December 1949, a thorough census by village and town of origin had been taken and the number of refugees was established at 202,606. The large refugee numbers combined with those of the native Gazans resulted in a population density of 1,800 people per square mile.

Page 4

Egypt kept a tight rein on the activity of Fedayeen (Palestinian guerrillas) in Gaza. But in early 1955, Israeli leaders plotted to lure Egypt into war in order to topple President Gamal Abdel Nasser. They launched a bloody cross-border raid into Gaza killing 40 Egyptian soldiers. The Gaza raid proved a near-perfect provocation, as armed border clashes escalated.

This is how Benny Morris describes the early 1955 period:

By February 1955 the situation was ripe for a massive explosion. In Cairo there was deep suspicion (monitored by IDF Intelligence Branch) of Israel’s aggressive intentions; and in Jerusalem there were both real and feigned suspicions and antipathy toward the Egyptian dictator. The Cairo death sentences, aggravated by what was seen as Nasser’s duplicity, and Ben-Gurion’s return to the Defense Ministry, signifying a weakening of Sharett’s moderate approach, were the two important precipitants of what was about to happen. But the immediate trigger, as usual, was provided by the Arab side: In the last week of February a team of Egyptian intelligence scouts penetrated deep into Israel, reconnoitered a number of sensitive defense facilities, and on February 25 gratuitously shot and killed an Israeli cyclist on a road near Rehovot.
Benny Morris, Righteous Victims: A history of the Zionist-Arab conflict, 1881–2001 (NewYork: 2001), pp. 399

The book Intelligence for Peace provides more detail:

On 25 February Arab infiltrators killed an Israeli cyclist in the town of Rehovot. One of the infiltrators, who was pursued by IDF soldiers and killed shortly afterwards, had a note in his pocket with reports of observations he had apparently carried out from Gaza, on orders from Egyptian Military Intelligence. The following day, Minister of Defence Ben Gurion, and Chief- of-Staff Moshe Dayan, demanded Sharett's approval for a retaliatory raid against an Egyptian Army base in Gaza. Sharett was willing to approve a raid, but only on condition that it be of a limited nature. In the discussions they held on the planned action, Dayan told Sharett that he believed about ten Egyptian soldiers would be killed in the operation. At the same time, however, Dayan had already laid much more ambitious plans. In a meeting of the General Staff, Dayan asked some of his generals to submit an operational plan for the conquest of the entire Gaza Strip. He presented this plan to Ben Gurion at the beginning of March.
Hesi Karmel, Intelligence for peace: the role of intelligence in times of peace, Frank Cass (1999) p. 56

Finkelstein continues in the footnotes framing Egypt as passive and Israel as the sole aggressor quoting Benny Morris:

"Egypt generally sought tranquility along its border with Israel.” (Footnote cont. from page 4)

Here is the full section:

Before March 1955 Egypt generally sought tranquillity along its borders with Israel, the more freely to pursue its goals of banishing the British, gaining ascendancy in the Arab world, and developing its political, economic, and social structures. It was ‘far less concerned over the Palestine question’ than any of the other Arab states, reported the American ambassador in Cairo, Jefferson Caffery, at the end of 1954. In his programmatic—philosophical work, The Philosophy of the Revolution, written, apparently, in late 1953, Nasser carefully avoided calling for Israel’s destruction and did not set it as a goal of Egyptian policy. He spoke only vaguely of the ‘common [Arab] struggle’ and described Israel as a ‘fruit of imperialism’ and Palestine as ‘a home stolen illegally from its owners’. But Israel’s—and especially, Ben-Gurion’s—attitude towards Egypt soured in the course of 1954 and January 1955. A major factor was the increasing violence, occasionally by Egyptian army-directed squads, along the Gaza frontier. Continuing Egyptian political and propaganda warfare against Israel also played a role. And so, somewhat paradoxically, did the Bat-Galim and Lavon affairs. But perhaps the single clinching, traumatic event that soured attitudes towards Cairo among Israeli policy- makers was the hanging of the two Jewish saboteurs in Cairo in January 1955. The hangings led almost directly to the IDF raid on Gaza in February 1955, which, in turn, led directly to both the Egyptian Fedayeen campaigns and the Egyptian Soviet arms deal.
Benny Morris, Israel’s Border Wars, 1949–1956 (Oxford: 1993), pp. 272–3

Page 6

Finklestein introduces the First Intifada:

In December 1987, a traffic accident on the Gaza-Israel border that left fourPalestinians dead triggered a mass rebellion, or intifada, against Israeli rule throughout the occupied territories.

Finklestein goes on to fill the rest of the paragraph with five quotes from Benny Morris with a citation to five different page numbers that spans 38 pages.
I'm not going to go through each of these quotes since it's not the quotes themselves thats the issue. It's the framing of the information. Finkelstein encapsulates the First Intifada in one paragraph with Morris quotes highlighting the most inflammatory parts against Israel--while Morris has a chapter on the Intifada that is 67 pages giving the reader a balanced perspective and contextual understanding. Benny Morris in 1991 (27 years before Gaza: An Inquest into Its Martyrdom) would say Finkelstein "selectively quot[ing]" from his book and for not knowing "anything ...beyond what is found" in his books. (Journal of Palestine Studies, Autumn 1991)

Page 7

The summit collapsed in mutual recrimination. But which side bore primary culpability for the aborted talks? “If I were a Palestinian,” Ben-Ami, one of Israel’s chief negotiators at Camp David, later commented, “I would have rejected Camp David as well,” while Israeli strategic analyst Zeev Maoz concluded that the “substantial concessions” Israel demanded of Palestinians at Camp David “were not acceptable and could not be acceptable.”

The Ben-Ami quote has been discussed on this subreddit (won't allow me to link):
Dissecting Omar Baddar's response video (Effortpost)
Regarding the Shlomo Ben-Avi quote Axehole brought - I looked into it
'Arafat was right to turn down Camp David' & The Death of A Quote

Page 8

Finklestein talking about the Taba Summit quoting Benny Morris:

Although both parties affirmed that “significant progress had been made” and they had “never been closer to agreement,” Prime Minister Barak unilaterally “called a halt” to these negotiations, and as a result “the Israeli-Palestinian peace process had ground to an indefinite halt.”

Giving the impression that Prime Minister Barak halted the negotiations and leaving out significant context as to why. Here is Benny Morris full paragraph that Finklestein quoted from:

Palestinian and Israeli delegations met for a last resort at Taba, in Sinai, during January 21–27 but the talks were continuously undermined by Palestinian acts of terrorism (such as the execution-style murder of two unarmed Israeli civilians by Tanzim operatives in Tulkarm on January 23) and by Palestinian unwillingness to budge from their xed positions on Jerusalem, the borders, and the refugees. The talks broke up on January 27 with a joint statement that in effect conceded that nothing had been concluded or agreed, though Abu Alaa and Ben-Ami armed that “significant progress had been made” and that they had “never been closer to agreement.” Again, Arafat had either played Israel along, unwilling simply to make peace with the Jewish state, or, though willing, had simply failed to rise to the occasion and make the best deal he would ever be offered. In either case, the Palestinians, it would seem, had once again missed an historic opportunity in their century-long struggle for independence and statehood. The following day, January 28, Barak called a halt to all talks with the Palestinians (after Arafat’s hate-filled speech against Israel at Davos —see following) and devoted the remaining week to his election campaign. The Israeli-Palestinian peace process had ground to an indefinite halt.
Benny Morris, Righteous Victims: A history of the Zionist-Arab conflict, 1881–2001 (NewYork: 2001), pp. 931

Finklestein ignoring the above Palestinian "provocations" the next paragraph he introduces the Second Intifada and an "Israeli provocation" which he doesn't elaborate on (maybe Sharon visiting the Temple Mount?).

In September 2000, amid the diplomatic stalemate and aft er Israeli provocation, Palestinians in the occupied territories once again entered into open revolt. Like its 1987 precursor, this second intifada was at its inception overwhelmingly nonviolent. However, in Ben-Ami’s words, “Israel’s disproportionate response to what had started as a popular uprising, with young, unarmed men confronting Israeli soldiers armed with lethal weapons, fueled the [second] intifada beyond control and turned it into an all-out war.” It is largely forgotten that the first Hamas suicide bombing of the second intifada did not occur until five months into Israel’s relentless bloodletting. Israeli forces had fired one million rounds of ammunition in just the first few days of the uprising, while the ratio of Palestinians to Israelis killed during the first weeks was 20:1.

"After the chief of Jerusalem's police force was knocked unconscious by a stone, they switched to live ammunition and killed four Palestinian youths." (Wikipedia)
Ya'alon denies the 1.3 million figure, which was revealed by Amos Malka, then-director of Military Intelligence, and published by Ben Caspit in Maariv; he claims that the number reflected the demand of the command units for supplemental ammunition. (Deflater of defeatist discourse Israel News Haaretz)
Prior to the "first Hamas suicide bombing" five months into the second intifada there were multiple shooting attacks, passenger in a car killed by stone-throwing, abduction and execution, and bombings and a vehicular attack with a Palestinian bus driver drove into a bus stop. Two days before the suicide bombing that Finklestein references, a Palestinian sniper shot a 10-month-old infant in the head while she was in her stroller, killing her instantly. The Palestinian Authority initially arrested the sniper, but released him after a short while. Shin Bet would later capture the sniper and he'd be sentenced to life in prison. (Wikipedia)

In the warped memory of Israeli president and Nobel Peace Prize laureate Shimon Peres, however, this period was “another mistake—we restrained ourselves for eight years and allowed [Gazans] to shoot thousands of rockets at us . . . restraint was a mistake.”

Sections of the interview below that provides context:

What do you think about negotiating with Hamas?
Peres: It’s like talking to the wall. Hamas says we don’t want to talk, we want to destroy you, we don’t want peace with you. The difference between Hamas and Fatah is essential, not political. Fatah is a political organization. Politics is built on negotiation and compromise; religion does not compromise. So long as Hamas is a religious-political organization, I am deeply pessimistic.
About the Turkish flotilla, do you think we acted correctly?
We acted correctly, except in terms of explaining what happened.
We killed nine Turks, they killed no Israelis.
There were six boats. Only on one—where they came prepared for violence—was there a clash. There was a long delay in broadcasting our explanation. There is no starvation in Gaza and no siege. If Gaza would agree not to rocket us, we would leave the entry points open.
But we prevented items like cardamom from reaching Gaza.
OK, we made some mistakes. [But] we made another mistake—we restrained ourselves for eight years and allowed them to shoot thousands of rockets at us until the rage came out at one go [in the IDF assault on Hamas in Gaza in 2008-2009]. Had we done then what we do now, retaliate each time they fire a rocket—there would have been no problem. In the end, it turned out that restraint was a mistake.

(Making History - Tablet Magazine)

Page 9

“If only it would just sink into the sea,” Rabin despaired.

During a WINEP conference in Jerusalem in September 1992 Yitzhak Rabin remarked, “I would like Gaza to sink into the sea, but since that won’t happen we must find a solution to the problem of the Strip.” (Money, Media and Policy Consensus - MERIP)

Israel subsequently purported that it was no longer the occupying power in Gaza. However, human rights organizations and international institutions rejected this contention; the fact was, in myriad ways Israel still preserved near-total dominance of the Strip. “Whether the Israeli army is inside Gaza or redeployed around its periphery,” Human Rights Watch concluded, “it remains in control.” Israel’s own leading authority on international law, Yoram Dinstein, aligned himself with the “prevalent opinion” that the Israeli occupation of Gaza was not over.

Two good sources that talks about how Israel doesn't have effective control over Gaza after their withdraw in 2005:
Is Israel Still an Occupying Power in Gaza? Netherlands International Law Review
Israel – Hamas 2023 Symposium - The Legal Context of Operations Al-Aqsa Flood and Swords of Iron - Lieber Institute West Point

Page 11

Since its establishment in 1988, Hamas had formally rejected the internationally endorsed terms for resolving the Israel-Palestine conflict. However, its participation in the electoral contest signaled the possibility that the Islamic movement “was evolving and could evolve still more.” But Israel immediately tightened its siege, and “economic activity in Gaza came to a standstill, moving into survival mode.” The United States and European Union followed suit, as they inflicted “devastating” financial sanctions.

According to the Global Terrorism Database, Hamas had 246 incidents from 1989 to 2006. (Source)
The same source Finklestein quotes above, "was evolving and could evolve still more" said in the same report:

One of the reasons Abu Mazen favoured Hamas' participation is precisely that he saw it as tacit acceptance of the Oslo framework, which fitted neatly into his strategy of cooptation. The question, which still remains, is whether this step by Hamas is strategic - i.e. a stage in a process which will eventually lead to folding their discrete armed capability into legal security bodies and irreversibly joining the democratic process - or whether it is merely a subterfuge so as to reap the benefits of a democratic image while buying time to rearm. (DeSotoReport.pdf)

Page 12

Footnote:

31.John Dugard, Report of the Special Rapporteur on the Situation of Human Rights in the Palestinian Territories Occupied since 1967 (A/HRC/2/5) (5 September 2006). The special rapporteur continued: “It is interesting to recall that the Western States refused to impose meaningful economic sanctions on South Africa to compel it to abandon apartheid on the grounds that this would harm the black people of South Africa. No such sympathy is extended to the Palestinian people or their human rights.”

John Dugard in 2021 would contradict himself (or maybe changed his mind):

South Africa was sanctioned and punished by the international community for practicing apartheid. The United Nations Security Council and General Assembly imposed a mandatory arms embargo on South Africa and recommended a host of sanctions—economic, banking, financial, sporting, cultural, travel. You name it. Virtually every aspect of life in South Africa was subject to some form of sanction.
It's important to stress that the Western states responded positively to these recommendations and then introduced sanctions and measures themselves. This included not only the Western European states but also the United States, which in 1986 passed the Comprehensive Anti-Apartheid Act designed to compel South Africa to abandon the policy of apartheid.
(2021 John Dugard: Holding South Africa, But Not Israel, Accountable – End U.S. Support for Israeli Apartheid? - WRMEA)

Page 13

“Hamas’s success in the Palestinian elections of January 2006,” a 2014 study concludes, could have augured a peaceful political evolution, “but only if the active interference of the United States and the passivity of the European Union had not sabotaged this experiment in government.”

The idea that because Hamas entered into a democratic election, it could been a turning point I believe is a stretch to say the least.

In January 2006, Hamas—designated a terrorist organization by the United States and others—won a majority of the seats in the Palestinian parliament. On January 30, 2006, the United Nations (UN), the United States, the European Union, and Russia— known as the Quartet on the Middle East—stated that they would provide support and assistance to the Hamas-led government only if it agreed to nonviolence, to recognize the State of Israel, and to respect previous Israeli-Palestinian peace agreements. In June 2006, the Congress directed that the Department of State (State) submit a new assistance plan; State provided that on July 21, 2006. (gao.gov/assets/gao-07-443r.pdf)

Hamas didn't accept these conditions.

Hamas will never recognize Israel and will not accept the conditions laid out by the Middle East peacemaking Quartet, according to the Islamist movement's deputy leader. Speaking late on Saturday, Moussa Abu Marzouq said Hamas, which recently signed a reconciliation deal with the Western-backed Palestinian leadership in the occupied West Bank, would never agree to recognize Israel. "We will not recognize the Zionist entity," he said at a press conference in Gaza City. (Hamas Won't Recognize Israel, Accept Quartet Terms — Naharnet)
In June 2008, Hamas and Israel entered into a cease-fi re brokered by Egypt, but in November of that year Israel violated the ceasefire. It carried out a lethal border raid on Gaza reminiscent of its 1955 cross-border attack. Then and now, the objective was to provoke retaliation and thus provide the pretext for a massive assault.

Benny Morris op-ed:

Last June, Israel and Hamas agreed to a six-month truce. This unsteady calm was periodically violated by armed factions in Gaza that lobbed rockets into Israel’s border settlements. Israel responded by periodically suspending shipments of supplies into Gaza. In November and early December, Hamas stepped up the rocket attacks and then, unilaterally, formally announced the end of the truce. The Israeli public and government then gave Defense Minister Ehud Barak a free hand. Israel’s highly efficient air assault on Hamas, which began on Saturday, was his first move. Most of Hamas’s security and governmental compounds were turned into rubble and several hundred Hamas fighters were killed. (Opinion Why Israel Feels Threatened - The New York Times)

Page 14

On the other side, Hamas launched several hundred rudimentary rockets and mortar shells into Israel.

Finklestein says this AFTER Operation Cast Lead begins in his telling--but never informs the reader of the previous rocket attacks from Hamas as stated above and frames it as Israel was acting as the sole aggressor.
(thank fuck thats over.)

À une époque où les paradigmes du divertissement évoluent constamment, l’avènement des services IPTV a marqué le début d’une nouvelle ère de consommation de contenu. Au milieu de cette révolution numérique se dresse LIVE SMART TV, véritable pionnier dans le monde de la fourniture de services IPTV VOD. Au cours des trois dernières années, ce fournisseur de services exceptionnel s'est taillé une niche en redéfinissant la façon dont nous vivons la télévision, le cinéma et le sport.
​
Introduction : Où le divertissement rencontre l'innovation
​
L’ère numérique a engendré une vague de transformation qui a touché toutes les facettes de nos vies. Le divertissement a également connu un changement de paradigme, passant des abonnements traditionnels au câble et au satellite vers des solutions IPTV plus polyvalentes et dynamiques.
​
À une époque où les paradigmes du divertissement évoluent constamment, l’avènement des services IPTV a marqué le début d’une nouvelle ère de consommation de contenu. Au milieu de cette révolution numérique se dresse LIVE SMART TV, véritable pionnier dans le monde de la fourniture de services IPTV VOD. Au cours des trois dernières années, ce fournisseur de services exceptionnel s'est taillé une niche en redéfinissant la façon dont nous vivons la télévision, le cinéma et le sport.
​
Introduction : Où le divertissement rencontre l'innovation
​
L’ère numérique a engendré une vague de transformation qui a touché toutes les facettes de nos vies. Le divertissement a également connu un changement de paradigme, passant des abonnements traditionnels au câble et au satellite vers des solutions IPTV plus polyvalentes et dynamiques. LIVE SMART TV a été à l'avant-garde de cette révolution, offrant l'accès à une gamme impressionnante de plus de 35 000 chaînes de télévision du monde entier. Il ne s’agit pas seulement de télévision ; Il s'agit d'un voyage international de culture, d'information et de divertissement, le tout livré de manière transparente via leur plateforme.
​
Pourquoi choisir LIVE SMART TV? L'excellence évidente
​
Parmi la multitude de fournisseurs de services IPTV, LIVE SMART TV se distingue comme un modèle d'excellence pour de nombreuses raisons. Tout d’abord, leur engagement envers la qualité est évident dans leur affirmation d’être le « meilleur fournisseur de services d’abonnement IPTV des trois dernières années ». Il ne s’agit pas là d’une simple rhétorique vide de sens ; Cela témoigne de leur engagement à offrir une expérience de premier ordre à leurs utilisateurs.
Consulter le site web : https://live-smartv.com/
L’une des caractéristiques de LIVE SMART TV est sa variété inégalée. Avec l'accès à un nombre impressionnant de 120 000 films et séries grâce à leur fonction de vidéo à la demande (VOD), les téléspectateurs n'ont que l'embarras du choix. Les barrières linguistiques sont supprimées car le contenu est disponible dans plusieurs langues, dont l'anglais, le français, l'espagnol, l'italien, l'arabe, l'allemand et le roumain. Que vous soyez cinéphile ou passionné de séries TV, IPTV GREAT s'adresse à tous les goûts et préférences.
​
Embarquez pour un voyage de fonctionnalités
​
En approfondissant le monde des fonctionnalités offertes par LIVE SMART TV, les aficionados du sport parmi nous trouveront du réconfort dans la couverture globale des chaînes sportives premium. Des matchs en direct palpitants aux événements à la carte (PPV) très attendus et même à la grandeur de la Coupe du monde, le monde du sport atteint un tout autre niveau.
​
Pour ceux qui sont nostalgiques du contenu de leur pays d'origine ou fatigués des options de chaînes limitées, LIVE SMART TV présente la solution : l'iptvDEVICE. Cet appareil ingénieux donne accès aux chaînes du monde entier, disponibles en qualité HD, Full HD ou même 4K époustouflante. La promesse d’exclusivité, de commodité et d’une riche sélection de chaînes, de films et d’émissions de télévision sur n’importe quel appareil, depuis n’importe quel endroit, est l’incarnation de la libération du divertissement moderne.
​
Tarification : un investissement dans un divertissement sans limites
​
Un divertissement de qualité a souvent un prix élevé, mais LIVE SMART TV a redéfini cette notion. Avec une gamme de forfaits adaptés aux différents besoins, le service est non seulement accessible mais aussi un choix financier judicieux. La garantie de satisfaction d'une disponibilité de 99 % en dit long sur leur engagement à garantir une expérience fluide.
​
Conclusion : l'évolution du divertissement
​
Dans un monde où le contenu est roi, LIVE SMART TVs’est imposé comme l’empereur du divertissement. Avec une gamme exceptionnelle de chaînes, de films et d'émissions de télévision, le tout soutenu par un engagement sans faille envers la satisfaction du client, le service témoigne de l'avenir de la consommation de contenu. Alors que nous continuons d’évoluer à l’ère numérique, LIVE SMART TV reste un phare d’innovation, transformant le divertissement en une expérience mondiale sans limites. a été à l'avant-garde de cette révolution, offrant l'accès à une gamme impressionnante de plus de 35 000 chaînes de télévision du monde entier. Il ne s’agit pas seulement de télévision ; Il s'agit d'un voyage international de culture, d'information et de divertissement, le tout livré de manière transparente via leur plateforme.
​
Test Gratuit consulter le site web : https://live-smartv.com/