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A story for Salem Shamaly, 20 yrs old, murdered by an Israeli sniper.

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After the video and the pictures comes a short story.

This video from 20th July 2014 is of Salem Shamaly being shot repeatedly by an Israeli sniper. Very graphic.

The sound of the drones over the camp is irritating me, like a mosquito inside ones ear which would neither go away not be quieted, on the contrary – your ear is getting red from the slapping you are inflicting upon yourself. I was trying to figure out whether there is anything interesting in this metaphor, or was it a simile, when one of those irritating hovering cameras came down. I sprayed it with water and it emitted this disgusting purple smoke. It was not so long ago the Zios started using them and now they are everywhere, eyes of high tec from another dimension peeping into our fucked up world. The monitor above my head went into white noise and started replaying the video of the death of Salem Shamaly. I have not noticed it had repaired itself, after the broadcast I would shoot it again.

I remember the first time I have watched the video of Salem, it was before the fighting began, when I was still hoping to become a student at the end of the summer. I was watering the plants on the roof of our shed when the small monitors, hanging everywhere around the camp, started flickering and the resistance started broadcasting – it is easy to know it is the resistance because anything which is not the golden studio is always them. The film was over 100 years old, from a far away land – funny that they had Zios there too, but anyway – I was not intending to watch it.

I recall the smell of something burning at a remote corner or the camp, I tried to identify whether it was paper or meat, but it smelled like neither. The Asian looking girl was passing by our shed, and changed her posture ever so slightly, like she did every single time she was passing by our shed, which was often. It made me uncomfortable and I pretended to be concentrating on something else, on the flickering monitor. I was still bothered by the smell of the smoke, it was not a joint, what was it then? My eyes were gazing through the images projected onto my iris, and all of a sudden I felt like a knife turning in my stomach, and it wouldn’t let go.

I have seen more graphic images in my life, more colours and body parts, yet this one video was the worst – Can in be true, that such a person existed?..the missing person, the sniper!

He existed and the world did nothing. He was not a brainwashed teen – as I often wanted to believe when similar incidents happened in our camp – with a girlfriend and a mom and such, no, he was a coldblooded sniper. He aimed to kill. Once Twice Trice…he is shooting Salem in order to kill him; because Salem is looking for his relative under the rubble; because Salem is alive, with a loving heart beating in his chest, and the sniper cannot tolerate it, so he shots to kill. The evil BASTARD Shoots him for Fun! My own shouting voice woke me up from the reality of the far away Gaza, for a second I was aware of the Asian girl giggling nervously, of smoke, but it all vanished again into a vortex leaving me alone with the sniper.

WHY? I shouted at him.
For fun – he replied – because I could.
I looked into his eyes, he was old now, old and proud. He had never been held accountable, he went back home as a hero, his girlfriend hugged him softly, they made love, like in the stories, he was on top of the world – he had the power to kill at will.

He was nothing but evil and I wished him dead, captured, traumatised. What was he turning me into? Is there really a whole nation made out of people like him?

A seedpod was swirling in the air and landed on my head; I saw a duck; the girl was gone and I’ve heard strange chatter; half the camp was on fire. I wanted to force everyone to watch Salem Shamaly’s last testimony – they have to know.

Last night I woke up in cold sweat – the new reality in the camp does not lend itself for a long sleep; Tomorrow is my birthday; I looked at the monitor, 10 kids were killed by a sniper; a voice in my head was whispering “Hitler was right”; I shook my head to clear it of any thoughts, what’s the point dwelling on such ideas… my hands was moving in the dark checking the gun is still in its place under the pillow, “classy” I thought to myself.

My hand still shakes a bit when I am aiming, also when I am shooting morphine. Not certain which of the abilities I would need first. “Gaza brigade” I mumbled and grinned.

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Written by naturesong

July 21, 2014 at 10:08

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