There she is...sitting on the the chair, holding a...no, not a pen.
| The time had arrived! Everything was ready, or seemed as such, everyone was excited, or pretended to be, and guests were about to arrive, or hoped to be so. Maryam, whose age would have lead us to think she is supposed to be at school, was sitting on a chair, ugliness of which was hidden with charm of the decorations, and was uneasily waiting. For what? She was not quite sure about it, or maybe afraid of how obvious and unavoidable it was. The most troublesome of all the struggles – did she really want it? – was paled under the light of the fact that nothing could change the course of events today. One might even dare to say, nothing could be changed yesterday, too.
Sound of the music – the same old festival songs that had penetrated into the brain of every single person from the beggars to the President – was heard dimly. There they were! Her companions for her future life were coming in such a manner as if to mock her for her foolish decision made by her respectable elders. They were going to punish her for her sins committed by her mother, her homework undone by her elder brothers and her lover’s heart that was broken – with hands of her father.
She was not quite conscious of the present or aware of the future, but the past was standing in front of her eyes crystal-clear – all her memories were as vivid as it had never been, as if trying to burst into real life, switching sides of the reality, and burying this mayhem into another nightmare.
And they succeeded! Those seemingly futile memories did revert the sides, waking Alice, this time surely not from the Wonderland. Or maybe it was something entirely different that woke her – maybe it was the notion that, this ending cannot change the fate of those real girls, but one thing it can change is our mood swaying with plot of such useless stories under the pretention that they somehow represent actual events – they don’t.