Novel: "The Shadow and Maryam"
In a rare moment of stillness,
My shadow visited me.
It wasn't exactly like me,
It was heavier than me, deeper than could be seen,
And more knowing of me than I knew myself.
It sat opposite me,
And whispered in its rough voice:
"How are you… Maryam?"
I did not answer.
I wanted to scream, to cry, to run away,
But something in its eyes made me speak…
So the story began.
About a dream I hid between my notebooks,
About a love that was never fulfilled,
About a betrayal that broke me,
And about a pen that gathered my pieces,
And made me write… so I wouldn't fade away.
This is not a love story,
Nor a tale of victory,
But a confession.
Between me…
And my shadow.
No one saved me… except myself.
I wasn't screaming,
But I was dying in a loud silence.
Everything inside me was falling apart,
My heart, my confidence, even my voice… no longer sounded like me.
I remember that night,
When I sat in the corner, holding my soul in my arms,
While the world went on, laughed, and talked…
And I just tried not to cry out loud.
I wanted to scream:
"Save me… I am drowning!"
But the words froze in my throat,
And all that came out… was a trembling breath.
No one saw my sorrow,
Because I was good at pretending.
I wore my smile like armor, and said: "I'm fine."
But the truth?
I was broken to the point I no longer knew how to be whole.
I was in pain… and I envied the clouds because they cried openly,
While I… buried everything inside my chest until it became my temporary grave.
I survived.
But not like heroes survive,
I survived like someone who comes out of fire with one eye… and half a heart turned to ash.
Dialogue: "Me and My Shadow"
The night is still, the room is cold, nothing moves… except a shadow standing by the wall.
Shadow:
Your ghost visited me again…
How are you, Maryam?
Have you become what you dreamed of?
Or are you still stuck there… in the middle?
Maryam (smiles sadly and whispers):
How much I wished to embrace you…
But you're an illusion,
An illusion created by my memory when I found no one.
Every time I see you, it feels like I'm talking to myself before breaking down.
Shadow:
You're still as you are…
Fighting the harshness of days with mischief!
I've always envied your ability…
To smile amid the ruins,
And laugh though your heart is torn.
Maryam (laughs lightly, tired):
Shall I tell you about my adventures?
About the days I laughed while crying?
About the tears I hid in my storybooks…
Or would you rather whisper something else to me tonight?
Shadow:
Tell me…
Have you forgiven those who betrayed you?
Have you forgiven yourself for your weakness?
Have you ever hated me…?
Maryam:
I forgave everyone… except myself.
And I hated everything… except you.
You are my shadow…
And I neither escape from you, nor do I want to,
For in my solitude… you were the only one who remained.
Second Excerpt – "Me and My Shadow"
Maryam:
Ah, my shadow…
My books have become abandoned drafts,
Unfinished novels,
My feelings are incomplete chapters without endings.
I stand in the middle,
When my worries suffocate me, and my troubles grip my neck,
I resist with all my strength.
I paint on my face the features of patience,
But inside, I scream…
And no one hears.
Scene: "Me and the Shadow – The Trial"
Setting: A dimly lit room. Maryam sits while the shadow stands. His voice is cold, full of doubt.
Shadow (mocking):
You wrote?
You dreamed?
And you haven't even finished your education?
You have no certificate,
No paper that says: "This girl deserves to be heard."
Who will listen to you?
Great writers toil for years…
And you write about love and betrayal, as if you understand anything about life.
(A short, cold laugh)
Even your last dream…
Just the illusion of a little girl,
Dreaming of an embrace… and a kiss.
You write,
But who said you are a writer?
Who said you're enough?
---
"Me and the Shadow – The Explosion"
Shadow (with a sarcastic voice, smiling with a hurtful softness):
What's wrong with your words, Maryam?
You came to me like a happy child…
And now you want to talk about dreams, writing, glory?
You have no certificate, no full education…
So why do you think you deserve to be heard?
(Pauses briefly, then laughs quietly)
Like that child who ran to get her toy,
But the seller pushed her away saying:
"Go back home, your father is not with you."
Maryam (looking at him, tears almost choking her but she doesn't cry… she shouts):
What's wrong with your harsh words?!
I came to you as a laughing child,
And now… I see you trying to break what's left of me?
Have you read my words to criticize me?
Have you ever tried… to feel them?
I wasn't really here,
I was sitting between my cold walls,
Watching my series,
Cooking, raising my children,
Waiting for my husband to come home,
A gray routine wrapping around me like dust…
I was eroding silently, but I never gave up.
Then they came…
My mother, my siblings, my friends…
They told me with warm words:
"Go on, Maryam… we are the ones who will remove the thorns from your path."
They are the ones who freed my words from my old notebooks,
If they hadn't believed in me,
My words would still be hidden…
Papers without a voice.
(Steps forward and raises her voice)
And now you talk about "certificates"?
Is a certificate what defines who I am?
Has a piece of paper become the one to decide the fate of dreams?!
I cried because of the war,
Because of poverty…
I thought I was a failure,
Because I couldn't complete my dream like others.
But I wasn't a failure…
I survived!
Maryam (looking into his eyes, laughing softly like anger):
Do you know, my shadow?
You talk too much,
As if you forget who I am.
You ask me who said I'm a writer?
I am the one who said so…
I am the one who wrote when no one was listening.
When they were asleep,
And I was trembling on my pillow,
Writing to stay alive in the light.
You say, "You have no certificate?"
True…
But I have a wound that taught me more than any lecture,
And I have a mother who said to me confidently:
"I trust you."
Do you know what this word does to a girl who lost everything?
It builds her up from scratch.
You laugh at my dream?
But you don't understand…
The dream was not just a kiss.
The dream was a moment I felt I was not alone,
That someone saw me,
Saw my exhaustion, saw my heart.
But even if no one saw me,
I saw myself.
And that is enough.
I write, despite everything…
Because when I cry, no one hears me,
But when I write…
The world listens.
I write, because words have not betrayed me as people did.
I write, because fear does not live in letters,
And because I'm tired of being silent.
And you?
You are a shadow…
Feeding on my self-doubt,
But today… I am hungry for confidence.
So lower your voice,
And be quiet for a while.
Because I am…
Maryam.
Flashback – "My Notebook and My Heart's Certificate"
Maryam, 9 PM…
A melting candle, and a notebook filled with solutions…
Tired eyes, but full of hope.
Maryam (whispering to the shadow):
Listen to me well, shadow…
Don't think my mother just sat and watched me.
She pushed me…
Towards the light, towards hope.
She brought me books and said with a smile:
"Study, my dear, in your own way. I trust you."
I told her with tears in my eyes:
"How can I study without a school? Without a teacher?"
She patted my hand and said:
"Because you are smart… strong… you will succeed. Just trust my words."
So I studied,
Long nights, exhausting days,
Notebooks filled with ink, solutions, mistakes, then small victories.
It wasn't easy…
But I overcame,
And my mother herself tested me…
And I passed.
She hugged me…
As if embracing the whole victory.
Then I ran, like someone flying,
I went to register for the entrance exam, my heart beating with joy.
Suddenly… I heard his voice:
"Maryam? Aren't you at university?!"
It was my teacher Ibrahim,
His question stabbed me…
So I whispered:
"Poverty… was an obstacle, sir."
Another voice came, harsh as a sword:
"Poverty? No excuse. You didn't try… you must have failed!"
I froze, felt like choking.
But my teacher Ibrahim looked at him and said firmly:
"No, don't say that…
She was one of the top students,
She was my hardworking student,
And I was proud of her…
And I still am."
Then he turned to me and handed me the registration paper:
"Here, Maryam…
I know…
You will succeed."
Oh shadow…
My heart soared with joy,
I ran to my mother, wanting to tell her,
That our dream was getting closer,
But joy doesn't always complete…
The war broke out,
And it wasn't only in my city…
But in my heart.
A whole month of depression,
No food, no laughter, no sound.
I locked myself away…
Crying, lamenting my unlucky fate.
Maryam (looking into her shadow's eyes):
Who are you
To say I don't deserve,
When I…
I am the one who fought,
And I'm still writing.
—
Shadow (in a calm voice full of challenge):
Maryam… why do you keep fighting despite all the wounds?
What makes you refuse to surrender despite the pain and betrayal?
Many have passed my way,
Planting thorns, not roses.
They told me:
"You're a failure,"
"Your mind is small,"
"When will you mature?"
"What foolish dreams are these?"
Every word from them was an arrow,
Every scornful look a stab.
They said: "You… and you… and you,"
And I… was bleeding silently,
Pulling the thorns from my path alone,
Until I got tired.
Tired to the point I had no energy left to continue.
I became captive to their words,
Prisoner to their criticism,
A prisoner of myself… when I believed what they said.
But something changed…
When I saw how my words touched pure hearts,
How my letters were a balm to others I do not know,
They promised me they would walk before me,
Remove the thorns from my path,
And plant roses instead.
They told me:
"Just write,
And leave the rest to us.
Dream,
And we will carry the dream for you,
Until it comes true."
And then I realized…
Survival is not always about defeating everything alone,
But opening your heart to a hand that holds you,
When you're about to fall.
The shadow smiled faintly, as if seeing in her words a seed of hope growing in the desert of pain, then continued:
"And are you ready to open your heart to the rose, despite all the thorns you pulled out?
Do you trust that your path will grow roses again?"
Maryam (her voice choked at times):
"I must trust those who trusted me…
I remember well how they held my hand when I was drowning,
I didn't know how to swim yet.
I recall a painful moment…
When I tore up my diary and threw it away,
But my friend asked me about it,
I looked at her with tearful eyes,
And told her I was angry,
How could she understand? Those words and stories were all my treasure."
She said it with sadness and frustration.
Shadow (leans slightly, voice calm with gentle reproach):
"Did you think tearing the pages would erase the pain?
Or were you trying to erase a part of yourself?
But Maryam…
Even if the notebook is torn,
Your words will remain alive in the hearts of those who read them,
And your worlds will keep being born anew,
No matter how much you try to abandon them."
Maryam (sighs slowly, trying to regain strength):
"Maybe I was running away…
But now I know I'm strong enough to face it,
I will write…
Because I am no longer alone,
There are those who hear me, who believe in me."
Shadow (silent, then stepping back, whispering):
Maybe… I was the failure,
Because I didn't see in you… a woman born from fire.
And I didn't believe you could…
Write your name with the ink of pain… and make it pride.
Maryam (looking at him, not with a smile, but with a new light in her eyes):
"I was trying to scream,
But my scream came out as a story…
I try to cry,
And my tears fall in the shape of letters."
She steps toward him, no weakness in her walk, but the trace of long fatigue that finally stands tall.
"Do you know, my shadow?
I no longer want to be perfect,
Nor to please everyone,
Nor to explain to those who don't see the pain beneath the smile."
Shadow (looking at her in surprise, almost shy):
"You have changed…"
Maryam (with calm confidence):
"No, I have only… stopped burying myself so others can rest."
She pauses for a moment, then gestures toward a corner of the room where scraps of old papers, notebooks, memories, even torn dreams lie.
"All this… I am no longer ashamed of.
This is me…
In all my shattered pieces,
And the more I break…
The more honestly I write."
The shadow feels excitement:
"I'll take you to your favorite place, but not to write....
To tell me one of your stories."
Scene: A quiet night… the sea gently restless, stars sparkling as if awaiting a story.