Fragments of Uncompleted Novel

This is an uncompleted novel that began in 2018 and was later abandoned in 2020. I consider this one of my first entrances into the fiction world.

George lived an average life in New York City. He was an internal medicine doctor and he worked in a huge hospital named Faith Memorial Hospital. Now despite having such a nice job, he wasn’t living the best life imaginable. His past was beyond average. When George was younger, his dad abused him badly in all forms of abuse: physically, mentally, socially, you name it, George experienced it. At the same time, his mom died when he was younger. When George was young, he heard that he had an older brother, but he never survived because George’s dad beat his mom constantly, which led to the baby dying prematurely. His childhood was a hellish nightmare that no one could relate to, which made him not only shy, but also very antisocial, which led to him getting bullied throughout his school years. George was 5 years old when his mom died. Out of pure exhaustion from the constant abuse, his mom collapsed on the ground. He had rushed to save her, but to no avail. He screamed and shouted at the top of his lungs for anyone to come and help. The neighbors in his apartment complex heard his wailing, they broke the door and rushed to see what had happened. One called 911, while another kept administering CPR, and a third one rushed to get the AED kit from the end of the floor. In the midst of this, some neighbors murmured, “What will become of the child?” ”Who will take care of him?” ”Sucks that he lives with such an abusive man...” “Poor kid... how will he live?” When the ambulance arrived, they took George’s mom away. One of the neighbors took the kid to the hospital along with the paramedics, and they rushed to admit the frail lady in the hospital. George sat next to his mom, tears flowing from his face in abundance. He didn’t want to loose his mom, especially not after he lost his brother earlier that same year. George needed his mom near him, to protect him from his evil dad. As he sat next to her, he suddenly heard his mother uttering, “George..... George..... where are you George?” “Mama! Mama I’m here! Mama.” “George.... my son... I love you so much....” “Mama! Stay awake.... Mama! Stay with me!” “George my son.... listen... I love you... I will always be near you... Stay strong.” “Mama.... Mama! ....... NOOO!!!” The only sound heard was the ever constant beep and whirr of the machines. Doctors rushed left and right, trying to resuscitate George’s mom. Electric shock, one after another, to no avail. George couldn’t believe the loss, but before he can compose himself, his neighbor dragged him out of the room and into the car. George cried till he found himself on his bed, sound asleep. George was 14 years old when he disagreed with his dad about some insignificant matter; which high school he wanted to go to. Seeing this, his dad took to beating him with his metal belt, then resorted to slapping him and scarring his face. He hurt his left eye badly, which left a scar that is still there till today. After George’s dad disappeared to go to a strip club, he later came back drunk and went to sleep in the bosom of two prostitutes. George took this opportunity to flee from the house. He packed bread and salt in his jacket, and stored some juice in an empty whiskey bottle that his dad drank. George then took his winter boots and scarf and then quietly stepped outside the creaking house. He then bolted straight ahead for the road, not knowing where to go. All that he could think of was to run. Run as fast as he could. Run as far away as he can possibly manage. Run before he feels the unwelcoming leather snap of his dad’s belt. Run before his dad could manage to gouge his eye out like he threatened thousands of times before. Run like a madman on fire. Run like all hell will break loose. Run as if the apocalypse came earlier than expected. Nothing held his brain more than “Run.” George kept running for hours on end in the midst of the heaviest snow blizzard of the year. New York is a beautiful city until a snow storm hits and everyone is consigned to the warmth of their own homes. To George, it didn’t matter if there was a blizzard or if the earth itself was being swallowed by a black hole. To him, getting away from his dad was much more peaceful than anything in the world. George lost track of the hours and soon started to slow down. He didn’t realize that he had run 6 miles in the past 3 hours. He found himself collapsing in the snow and crying. His tears would quickly turn into frost as the night grew cold. He hated his life, and he didn’t know why he had to be in such circumstances. George lay there on the ground in the midst of the snow not realizing how much time had passed or even what time it was. He checked his watch, “3:35 AM, if only I was asleep.” A black car stopped right in front of him, as he lay there on the cold ground. The headlights beamed brightly into his eyes and George woke up to see a man calling out to him. “George! George! Come in the car, George!” George was puzzled. Who was it that called his name? This doesn’t sound like his dad, and yet he was wary to go with just any stranger. George called out into the open: “Sir, who are you? What do you want from me?” “George! Come in the car and you will know! Come in and escape the snow. Come inside!” “Sir, I don’t know you! Who are you? Why do you even want to talk to me? “Just come in the car George! Trust me!” George, more reluctant than ever, went in the car. He had already seen the hell of torture under his dad, so it didn’t matter to him if he even died. He stepped in the car not knowing what would happen to him, relying on the voice inside the black car.

Bishoy had just finished making orban when he heard terrible news: his sister Martha was dying in the hospital after her maniac husband beat her to exhaustion. He rushed quickly to the hospital and when he got there, he bolted to the room where she stayed. Martha was pale and deathly, yet her face still shined. When he saw her, he couldn’t help but ask: “Martha! What’s wrong my dear? Are you ok?” “Bishoy! I’m glad to see you... sit... I don’t have much time.” “Martha! Please stay alive! Your son needs you.” “Listen Bishoy! I am dying soon. I need you to take care of George for me. His dad won’t let you touch him, but I need you to find any way to get my son out of there. And if you can’t, I promise he’ll come to you. Bishoy.... take care of him for me. Teach him to love God like how you taught me. Tell him to always have faith. Please take care.” Bishoy couldn’t help but tear up. He couldn’t believe that his beautiful sister was reduced to such a state. He prayed for her, and then left. He couldn’t bear to see her like that anymore. It was the saddest way to start a new year and celebrate his 18th birthday. When he received news of her death, he tried to meet with George’s dad, but every time since then, he would refuse, threatening to shoot him if he dared step in his apartment, or even try to talk to George. Bishoy had tried all legal manners to get George out of his abusive father’s house, but every time he tried, George would receive a stricter beating. George never knew about Bishoy, but Bishoy knew everything about him. When Bishoy couldn’t do anything more, he would pray and cry in front of the icon of the Theotokos, asking her to stand by George and help him. One night, Bishoy had finished vespers at his church early. The priest had left and Bishoy stayed after to make the orban for the next day. He noticed the blizzard outside was increasing heavily and wondered, “It would be suicidal for anyone to be outside at this hour. I should probably find a tunic and sleep in the altar upstairs until tomorrow. Then maybe I can find a way out of this blizzard.” Uncle Mounir, 60 years his senior, said to him, “No, go find your boy. He is outside now in the middle of this storm. You must go and find him!” Uncle Mounir was a tired old man who was around 80 years old and had committed his life to serve in the church. He was deeply spiritual and everyone sought his advice. Even the diocesan bishop would come to ask him about advice regarding spiritual matters. He always wore a long tunic in the manner of Upper Egyptians and a coat to cover him from the snow, and he always carried with him a wooden cane to support him. He had come to America when he was 20 years old, during the post WWII boom in the 1950’s. Although he knew perfect English and Arabic and had memorized all the hymns of the church by heart, he remained silent for the most part to attain the virtue of silence and humility. But when he spoke, he poured knowledge and peace unimaginable. Everyone respected him highly and regarded him as an important person, if not even a saint. Many times he has been visited by angels, the saints, and even the Virgin Mary herself. “But Uncle Mounir,” said Bishoy, “the blizzard blocked all the doors of the church! Plus all the cars are frozen and the engines won’t start. We are barely managing to heat the church oven to bake the orban, how will I even manage to drive a car and waste gas in the middle of a blizzard to find a boy who might get me shot and killed? Do you not think it’s a little risky? Plus, even if I find George, he doesn’t know me. It’s been 10 years after his mom died and he could have grown and not heard of me or seen me. How can you be so sure that he will not only listen to me, but also come with me to my house? What if his dad is tracking me to finish off our family? This is just too much, Uncle Mounir, too much.” “Don’t disobey the Theotokos ya Bishoy!” replied Uncle Mounir, “Go now and find the boy before he freezes to death. No one can wait outside in the blizzard for this long! Listen to me and do as I say.” “As you say, Uncle Mounir, you know better. Please pray for me.” said Bishoy, as he was grabbing his winter coat. “Bishoy! Here, take this,” said Uncle Mounir as he took off his only coat. “Take this for the boy and make sure he is covered well.” “But, Uncle Mounir! This is your only coat! We barely managed to convince you to get a coat after the frostbite you almost had! I will give him my coat and you can keep yours.” “Listen to me and stop arguing! I never needed a coat in my life. My galabeya has always kept me warm. Now go and stop arguing.” Bishoy went obediently and took the coat from Uncle Mounir. He then went up the stairs and went into the church. He prayed quickly to God so that he may receive protection. And then he bolted straight for the door. Suddenly, while walking towards the door of the church, as he was about to open it, the door flung open by itself. Bishoy, surprised and taken aback, kept going through and wondered, “How did the door open itself?! The snow had blocked the door before I even left. Did Uncle Mounir clear the snow? Impossible.... he was just with me downstairs in the Bethlehem room. Then how did the door unlock?!” As he kept walking, he noticed that the snow was evenly shuffled and a snow path led straight to his car. He hurried to his car and turned the engines on. He thought to himself, “How am I going to find the boy in the midst of the snow? What if he died? How can I be so sure of what Uncle Mounir said? This is just too much.” Suddenly, he found a man knocking on his window. He wore a thick mustache and was tall and dressed in the manner of a police officer, except he had no badge on. Bishoy lowered the window for this officer and asked, “Officer, how can I help you? Am I in trouble?” The officer replied kindly, “No Bishoy, you’re not. The boy you’re looking for is in this address. You’ll find him laying on the ground covered in a blue jacket and a scarf. Don’t be worried, he isn’t harmed by the snow. Go now and get him. And do like forget to send monthly offering to St George’s monastery. They are in need of it.” Bishoy was stunned, How does the officer know my name? And about George? And how does he know that I give monthly offerings to St George’s monastery? How? This doesn’t make any sense! Bishoy gathered some courage and asked the officer, “Officer, I don’t think I’ve met you before. Do I know you? Have we spoken before?” The officer replied, “Yes Bishoy, we have. Open your glovebox and find the icon and then you’ll remember me. I will never forget you.” Bishoy turned and fiddled with the glovebox and took out the icon of the great martyr St George. He then turned to talk with the officer, and yet the officer disappeared. Bishoy was stunned beyond measure. He had just spoken to the great saint himself, and he told him where George his nephew was. It was St George himself who took care of George and made sure the blizzard won’t affect him. Bishoy was overjoyed and kept singing praises for St George all the way until he reached the place where the saint had told him where George was. Bishoy then, seeing George, called out to him from inside the car. “George! George! Come in the car, George!” He heard no reply, so he called even louder, “George! George! Come in from the cold ya George! Come in the car!” The boy looked confused and, staring at him, replied, “Sir, who are you? What do you want from me?” “George! Come in the car and you will know!” said Bishoy, “Come in and escape the snow. Come on inside!” He heard George replying, “Sir, I don’t know you! Who are you? Why do you even want to talk to me?

Bishoy replied eagerly, “Just come in the car George! Trust me!” George had made his way to the front seat of the car when Bishoy hugged him intensely and cried profusely, “George! George! I though I lost you forever! Oh God, thank you! Thank you, blessed St George! You saved my nephew.” “Nephew? Wait.... you can’t be....” “Yes dear! It is me, your uncle Bishoy. God, I’ve missed you so much! Look at you all grown up and handsome! Oh habibi I missed you so much.” George looked puzzled at Bishoy, and asked, “Uncle, how did you find me? I thought I would die in this blizzard. Who led you to me? Did my dad send you to get me? Please, I beg you, don’t return me to him. I’ve had enough of his abuse. Tell me, what is going on?” Bishoy replied, “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you in on the details later. For now, come with me. I’ll take you to the Church, and then we’ll go home and spend the night. Then tomorrow we’ll attend the Liturgy together and I’ll take you out to lunch. I promise you, I will tell you everything, and I will not by any means return you to your father.” Bishoy drove to the church quickly after giving George the jacket to cover up with. To Bishoy’s surprise, George stayed awkwardly calm, and the blizzard had calmed to a halt and stopped snowing. Bishoy had just reached the church when he bolted out the car and covered his nephew George with his jacket. He rushed him inside the church and closed the door behind him, making sure that it was locked properly. George was sleepy, and not fully aware where he was going, as he hasn’t been to the church ever since his mother died. Bishoy rushed George downstairs and then said, “Uncle Mounir! Uncle Mounir! I found George my nephew! St George the Martyr made a huge miracle for me! He appeared as an officer and...” “And he told you where George was.” said Uncle Mounir. “How did you know? You couldn’t have...”Bishoy questioned. “Promise to not tell anyone till I die. Both of you. When you left to get George from outside, I was very heartbroken for the kid. I thought ‘Ya Mar Gerges, after all the service your son Bishoy did for you, why would you leave him like this?’ And suddenly I saw Mar Gerges with his traditional military uniform and he told me ‘I never left neither Bishoy or George. I always watched out for them. I’m going to tell Bishoy where George was now.’ And only then was I comforted. But you promised, do not ever dare to share this with anyone until I pass away.” Bishoy said, “I promise, God bless you, Uncle Mounir! I need to take George and go home now so he can rest. Please pray for us!” “Go. Rest easy. I’ll see you tomorrow at the liturgy.” said Uncle Mounir. His unwavering smile shone on his face. Bishoy exited the church and led George out to his car.

George was tired. He had just witnessed so much in such a little time. First off, he never knew he had an uncle. That secret was kept from him because of his dad. Second, he didn’t know he was Coptic. He had heard his mom talk about it a long time ago, but he never really understood what it meant. And then after she passed away, he didn’t have a chance to learn, as his dad blocked him from all kinds of knowledge and nearly trapped him in his house. Third, he was exhausted, he needed to rest, but there were too many questions that woke him up. In the end, he started to discuss with his uncle. “Uncle Bishoy,” the words were very new to George. “Yes habibi!” replied his uncle. “How are you my uncle? And how come I never knew about this until now?” “Here is the thing habibi, your stupid dad, after your mom died, (God rest her soul), decided to not have a funeral and to bury her. He bought a couple wood boxes and put your mom in them and buried the box in an open cemetery. After this outrageous behavior, I demanded that he take out the box and instead buy her a coffin. After much convincing, he obliged. I took your mom’s casket, and I took it with me to church, and had the priest pray the funeral prayers on her. Then, I asked permission of the priest to bury your mom in the new graves outside the church.” “But there was still one thing missing. Your mom made me promise to find any way possible to get you out of your dad’s control. So what I did was that I went and got a hold of your dad and asked to meet with him. I told him to come to my house and we would talk. When he did come, I told him that your mom wanted to transfer the child from him to me and that he could visit the child whenever he wanted. But your dad didn’t agree to this and saw that this was a breach to his sense of security. So he threatened me that if I ever come and try to do anything that he would shoot me and hurt you.” “But I didn’t stop there. I sued him in court, but he found a way to win the lawsuit and to keep you under permanent control. I felt shaken, yet I was still not defeated. Even though your dad beat me in court, I still had one thing he didn’t have. All your birth certificates and forms were kept at my house because your mom didn’t trust your dad to that information. I had a friend in Faith Memorial Hospital who I did a favor for, so I asked him to make a birth certificate for someone who didn’t exist. But the intention was to make this birth certificate and get all the necessary identification so that, when I could get you out of your house, you’d have a form of identification. So I worked on getting you a new birth certificate and all required forms imaginable, even an adoption certificate. So now that you’re with me, your stay is legal and you can forget your dad’s house.” “Really uncle? Are you sure this is safe? What if you get in trouble? What if....” “George habibi you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ve settled all of these issues a long time ago. I was just waiting for the time to come and get you. With your dad constantly hovering around you, it was near impossible to get you out. But thank God and the great martyr St George for getting you out of there safely. I thought I lost you forever, but God returned you to me. Your mom has always been praying for you to find God and to be safe, and now thank God you’re safe and sound.”