the vally of spirits-nover

Chapter One







The yellow bus zoomed down the street, emitting a mix of sounds. Laughter, screams, and singing filled the air. A girl peered out from the window, gazing at the still-closed shopfronts. The driver shouted, "Don t stick your head out! Close the window!" She nervously shut the window, her face tinged with anger as she crossed her arms over her chest.
He contemplated jumping onto the bus, but from which side? He remembered he could enter through any closed window. He had sent hundreds of children s spirits to the valley-;- it was a routine task he had become accustomed to. He hadn t thought to object. The list contained the address and time. He could be in hundreds of places simultaneously, sending thousands of souls across the world to the valley.
At the back of the bus, the girl felt a cold gust of air sweep across her neck, causing her to shiver and adjust her braid. She glanced around nervously. The windows were closed, and her friend dozed off, battling ---sleep---. She told her they had stayed up late for her older brother s tenth birthday. They usually arrived in a white car driven by a chauffeur, the color of the coffee her mother drank all day. She reassured herself that everything was fine.
He didn t smile as he observed the girl s anxiety, sensing her fidgeting with her braid. He resumed listening to his colleagues singing. The night passed, the dawn broke, and the birds chirped. One of the girls sang "Noono" in a childish tone, prompting the others to join in. They stopped singing, then clapped playfully. He had to send their spirits to the valley, except for one who had to stay behind. This time, her name and specifications weren t on the list. Would he choose who stayed? Such a choice hadn t confronted him before, and thus he felt perplexed and uncertain. Was it a test?´-or-had there been an error in the list (of course, unintended)? What would he do? He looked out at the street the bus was speeding down. On the sidewalk, a beggar leaned against a lamppost, wearing a thick military coat whose color was fading. His name was at the bottom of the list, with the time glowing brightly. It was seven ten. It was already seven thirty. He had been occupied with the children. "I seek forgiveness, my Lord, and I repent to You." The bus swerved as the driver lost control, hitting the lamppost. The beggar s bones crushed beneath the bus s wheels as it overturned, crashing into a fabric shop before an explosion rang out. Flames erupted. The girl was lifted and thrown from the window onto the street. A woman stopped her car in a hurry and rushed to inspect the girl. She told the traffic officer that she was still alive, but she didn t suggest taking her to the hospital.
The traffic officer looked at her with silent reproach, but he understood her reluctance to participate in the girl s rescue operation-;- she wouldn t easily escape scrutiny during the investigation.
"The Mighty," said the one with the white wings, seated on the chair of judgment, "he must not ponder the matter, for the decision is made even before the process of preparing the valley begins."
The butterflies in the valley were competing to create a joyful atmosphere, flying in circles around each other, rarely colliding. However, this did not prevent the discomfort of small butterflies that came to the valley before understanding their surroundings. They had been transported in their first year of life. Once, it was suggested to relocate them to another valley to avoid potential dangers, but the owner of the chair did not respond. It was understood that he had exceeded what was permissible, so he apologized and returned to the ground, visibly embarrassed.
I must say, I have a firm grip on the earthly universe, but I do not possess prior knowledge of whose souls I will transfer to the valley. I read the lists handed to me just one day before. How do I operate in this seemingly vast space? And how do I manage to transport souls from distant regions at the same moment? Well, one might refer to the incident of transferring Bilqis s throne from Yemen to Jerusalem-;- it took but a moment, measurable in a fraction of a second... It is this ability that "The Mighty" has granted me.

Sometimes, I stop and observe people in their fervor, crowding to board transportation´-or-standing in long lines to watch a show in the cinema´-or-theater. This might not take more than a fraction of a second, but it s enough to give me a picture of human behavior in the earthly universe. Those of us who were close to "The Mighty" couldn t imagine how Adam and Eve s descendants would behave after being expelled from paradise. Nor could we envision how long their lives would last. But "The Mighty" explained everything clearly to us and chose me to transport their souls to the valley. We had never heard of the valley before. Hence, I dared to ask, "What is the valley, and where is it located?" I felt proud to be chosen to control the entire earthly universe. I even thought that, if our ages were determined, I would also be the one to transport souls to the valley. However, the continued succession of ages created confusion in my mind. Even now, I think we will not cease to exist. Rare are the times when I visit the valley for artistic reasons related to a mistake in transferring a soul not mentioned in the list. But the similarity of names confuses me, for we lived centuries before Adam descended to earth, knowing each other not by names but by forms.
Once, the friend of the prophets, as we call him, asked me, "How do I find people when I transport their souls to the valley?" There was a hint of concern in his tone, but I brushed it off and said, "Few of them are confused´-or-overwhelmed by painful despair, but most of them do not notice. I had become accustomed to the task so much that it proceeded smoothly." I still remember the first soul I carried to the valley, the soul of Adam s son, Abel, who was killed by his brother Cain. When I released him into the valley, he was alone, his movements betraying fear and bewilderment as he sensed his insignificance against the vastness of the valley. He sought refuge under the giant tree, hiding in the shade of its lush green leaves. Adam was sad, perhaps feeling the consequences of his disobedience to "The Mighty s" commands and the repercussions it would have on his offspring. This was the second time I saw him, the first being the day "The Mighty" presented him to us while reciting all the names with confidence and defiance. On that day, the one responsible for storms, rain, and floods whispered in my ear, "I don t think he will be at peace for long... He doesn t know what awaits him." And when he felt that "The Mighty" heard him, he bowed his head and looked at his feet. The third time I saw Adam was when I transferred his soul to the valley, where a few butterflies for his children s souls surrounded him. Interestingly, Satan stood not far away, looking at me arrogantly, as if mocking me, for he had won the bet for the second time. I had been one of the opponents of Satan s decision not to prostrate to Adam as commanded by "The Mighty." Eve stood broken, her tears frozen, perhaps out of regret´-or-because she would remain alone in the earthly universe after her children dispersed. She wasn t old, as she retained her vitality. At the moment of Adam s death, she seemed to have shrunk, giving an impression of defeat. She stood erect, as if disbelieving that Adam had left her forever. Hence, she did not participate in filling the grave with soil. Abel and his sons, along with three of his daughters, were heaping soil onto the body. Abel attended to bid farewell to his parents, deciding to leave the mountain where he dwelt to seek a safer refuge after the packs of wolves that roamed around the cave at night had multiplied. He considered what was happening a form of punishment for what he had done to his brother. His mother didn t speak to him, but she didn t banish him either-;- instead, she hugged her daughters. When he left, his mother crouched in a corner of the mud room and closed her eyes, perhaps to contemplate what the future would bring´-or-perhaps what she had gone through. When I visited her again to transport her soul to the valley, she had diminished, her clothes worn, sitting surrendered, exhausted by sorrow and loneliness. When I released her butterfly, it fluttered joyfully but did not recognize Adam.
I noticed that when I carried a woman s soul to the valley, her butterfly wings fluttered rapidly, but she didn t protest´-or-taunt, while most men s souls remained with their butterfly wings steady, only to dart swiftly upon reaching the valley, surveying the area before settling on the giant tree. In the valley, souls do not converse with each other, hence a deep silence prevails. The absolute silence does not disturb the gentle movements of their wings as their sensors explore the place.

I never thought about the fate awaiting these vast numbers of souls and how it will end. Certainly, they will not remain immortal in this way. When I asked Michael about it, he said he knew nothing, being responsible for rain and vegetation in the earthly universe, and the valley is not part of it! He paused for a moment and continued, "Nor is it part of the heavenly universe." Some of my colleagues are tasked with a one-time job across time-;- Raphael will blow the trumpet on the Day of Resurrection, while Ridwan guards the gates of paradise, awaiting the trumpet to open the door for those entering paradise. I asked him, "But where do the prophets and the righteous reside now, since paradise has not yet been opened and it is waiting for the trumpet?" He looked at me with absolute certainty and said, "They are in the kingdom of God." His answer dispelled the occasional confusion I faced.
The friend of the prophets said that such questions I sometimes reveal are dangerous because they stem from my interaction with the people of the earthly universe, who raise doubt as a path to truth, while we present certainty as a path to truth. I fell silent reluctantly.
Satan was listening attentively, hoping to find someone who supports his beliefs, but I thought he would surely fail because
"To hasten the transfer of souls to the valley, Satan watches over us with a spirit of vigilance. Initially, our tasks were not as diverse as they are today, so we used to meet on our way to work.
Satan said, What you re doing is merely routine work, lacking any enjoyment... Look at my work... It s engaging, diverse, and carries themes of challenge and capability.
I didn t respond, as engaging in such conversation might lead to convictions I don t desire. Speaking of South Africa, I noticed that the souls butterflies there were predominantly yellow, while those from Northern Europe had wings of a blend of two colors, green and red. As for the Middle East, the edges of their wings tended towards a color closer to sand... I didn t inquire about this contrast, but I deduced it was for ease of distinction between groups. I missed pointing out that the butterflies of Chinese origin were less mobile, as if carrying something that slowed their movements.
As for me, time holds no importance, and it remains merely markers imposed by the succession of night and day. My colleagues and I do not ---sleep---, and the changing climate through the seasons means nothing to us. When I see earthly beings retiring to bed at night due to fatigue´-or----sleep---iness, I thank (the Almighty) for not making us like them, as they are often full of complaints and boredom simultaneously.

Once, during one of our rare encounters, I asked Ridwan, Don t you feel bored waiting at the gates of paradise until the trumpet is blown? He replied, No... waiting is a pleasure.
After the invention of the computer, whose development I followed closely, I will be delighted when (the Almighty) permits me to carry Gates soul to the valley. I found that my colleagues and I work in the same manner as the computer. We are programmed according to (the Almighty s) will. Before Adam and Eve descended to earth, we were surrounded by an atmosphere filled with silence. We, the seven elders, surrounded (the Almighty) at the foot of His throne, while Satan sat enthroned, rarely leaving his place, and (the friend of the prophets) often smiled, reflecting a deep sense of joy on his face. We exchanged no conversation except what was necessary, nor did we raise our eyes to (the Almighty). We were engulfed in total stillness. When our work began after tasks were assigned to us, we dispersed to carry out our duties.
The first time I descended to the earthly realm, I noticed it was completely different from where we were. Animals were fighting among themselves, creating loud noises, and I couldn t find any justification for the fighting because the earthly realm is vast enough for everyone! There were birds of various colors flying through the nearby skies, flaunting their wings, waiting for some insects to emerge from their burrows. Butterflies, in particular, were delicate, moving lightly and gracefully as they circled wildflowers before perching on branches, gently gazing at them before flying off into the forest.
One evening, while we were gathered with (the Almighty), Ridwan asked me, You bring butterflies to the valley... do they behave similarly when you transport them?
I said, Generally, yes, but very few, perhaps a few dozen, are initially confused, then they become aggressive, trying to escape. And because they can t, they start spinning rapidly and erratically, until exhaustion weighs them down, and they settle, submitting. And when I release them into the valley, they hurriedly search for an extreme branch to hide under its leaves.
Are their owners affected during human wars?
No... their owners are among the great tyrants of the earthly realm... Have you heard of Ivan the Terrible, Genghis Khan,´-or-Hitler?... They re all of that ilk.
We didn t continue the conversation, as (the Almighty) arrived."

When he returned to the Valley of Spirits, the children s spirits had joined the valley s inhabitants, where everything was colorful butterflies. He thought people made death a nightmare, leading to misery, and propagated cruel tortures in the darkness of the grave. When he asked his colleagues, accused of accounting for the dead, they smiled silently. That s how people created fear to atone for their mistakes.

When he climbed to the top of the mountain overlooking the valley, hundreds of millions of butterflies followed his flight, fluttering around a tree with hundreds of branches in all -dir-ections, some stretching for miles, vibrant with greenery. At first, he felt the immense effort he exerted, crossing the boundaries of the earthly universe every minute to facilitate the passage of souls to the valley, feeling a sense of greatness as he considered that his task had no end, unlike his colleagues whose tasks had ended years ago. That s why they were attached to the large chair lists without any practical tasks.

He never wondered if the souls he brought to the valley were content with this transition, but this implied dissent that would anger the Almighty sitting on the chair, and he shouldn t let such thoughts bother him. He found no difficulties in his work-;- he had been given everything to facilitate his tasks under all circumstances. He faced no challenges, even when the composition of societies changed, and different empires emerged, including religious ones, and armies grew in number and variety of weapons, and the lists became notebooks with hundreds of pages, and the colorful butterflies increased in the valley. He still found joy in his work because he never had a moment of idleness, but he remembered that occasionally, and at intervals, he faced difficulties when transferring the souls of some individuals close to him to the valley

Rate the article
Bad	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10	Very good
Result : 100%							Participated in the vote : 1