S03E04: The Old Medina - TRANSCRIPT

Welcome back to another episode of Hyba is Writing. In today's episode, I have another story in store for you. It's a story that I wrote in the style of the kinds of stories you read in subreddits like Let's Not Meet, so if you're a fan of those kinds of stories, you will enjoy this story. It's a scary story about a young woman who gets into a supernatural situation while traveling abroad. Without further ado, I present to you: The Old Medina by Hyba Ouazzani.

It was my first time in the city, and the winding roads of the old medina led me deeper and deeper into a maze I soon realized I had no hope of emerging on my own. I wasn't particularly worried at first. I was a tourist, you know, so the whole idea of getting lost in an ancient city made me feel rather romantic. Besides, at the beginning, there were still people around me, and in the late afternoon sun, everything was painted a dreamy golden that lulled me into a sense of idyllic calm and safety. Like nothing could be wrong in the world. I don't know - I just... I wasn't worried at first. In fact, I was enjoying the element of random exploration. It wasn't until I realized that the streets were getting emptier, and the sun was preparing to set, that I began to try to find my way back.

I wanted to find my own way back, so I didn't ask anyone to help me, and soon, I was the only person around. I wasn't particularly bothered by it, but it did seem a bit strange. Still, I carried on, turning my map this way and that as I walked down the narrow streets, as though it was a puzzle I was solving.

My sense of confidence did not last very long. The map in my hands was useless - I could find no landmark to let me know where I was, and for a while, everything looked like more of the same exact thing to me. The same narrow, cluttered cobblestone streets, the walls of houses on either side of me like tall fences preventing my escape. Most importantly, it had been a very long while since I'd seen anybody. This part of the medina was a veritable ghost town. How had I strayed so far off the beaten path?

Naturally, a part of me was concerned. I was a tourist in a foreign country, and while I had looked forward to travelling to Morocco for years, and this was, by all means, the trip of a lifetime, I also didn't relish the thought of getting lost in unfamiliar streets.  It wasn't even the romantic notion of getting lost, anymore - I was simply, flat-out lost. Like, really lost. And that had settled deep into my bones at this point. I didn't know where I was, and as the sun set, I realized that I was going to have a rough time getting back to my riad. With nobody in sight, and the sky quickly darkening, I went to the nearest door and began to knock. I waited for some time, but there came no answer. I tried another. Still no answer.

I suppose that was when I first began to feel unsettled. Before that, I was simply worried. But I wasn't particularly scared. In 1984, I was an invincible young woman, fresh out of university, lost in the tight streets of the old Moroccan medina, and I was sure that I was going to be alright. Now, however, I was beginning to feel a bit on edge. There was nobody there - none of the houses actually housed anyone, or so it seemed - and not only was I lost, I was also alone. In the darkening streets. A young woman. Alone. Yeah - I regretted not asking anyone for help earlier, when I still had people around me to ask.

I tried to stay calm. I walked the streets, turning this way and that, hoping that I wasn't simply treading deeper into the labyrinth I was quickly beginning to feel myself a prisoner of. Still, it was hard to stay calm when night fell. There were no streetlights, and in the darkness I was overcome by a rising panic. I knocked on doors left and right, but none of the houses even had lights streaming out of their windows, and when I pressed my ears up against the doors, I could hear no movement or sounds inside the buildings. They were hollow and empty - and I was alone.

What made matters even more unsettling was the feeling of being watched. I can't explain it, except to say that I had a crazy urge to run. I didn't even know what I needed to run away from. Everywhere I looked, it was empty. There was nobody there. But I swear to you - I felt eyes on me. I felt someone following me. I felt the gaze of something watching me, stalking me from the shadows. I'd never felt something that powerful until that moment, and I have never felt it since. I began to feel paranoid as I walked through these narrow streets, and my heart squeezed in anxiety any time I passed by an alley or needed to round a corner. I felt like an animal being hunted. Something was after me, but I couldn't see it, and I had nowhere to run to.

I suppose it didn't take very long for me to begin to unravel. I had been lost for hours by then, and I was beginning to lose hope that I might make it back to my hotel anytime soon. I look back on this with a bit of embarrassment, but I had no idea what else I could possibly do. I began to call out for help. There were very few words that I knew in Moroccan Darija, but I didn't care. I figured that if there was someone out there, they would hear me calling and hopefully help me out of this scene from a nightmare. I just needed - I needed to get out of there. I needed air. I felt like the walls were closing around me, and there wasn't enough air to breathe, and I was gasping and panting as I stumbled though the cobblestone paths, desperate.

I called until my voice was hoarse. I think by then, another hour or so had passed, but I couldn't tell you how much time had really passed. My watch had stopped working at some point earlier that evening, and I... Well, you'll hear soon enough why I'm so confused about the chronology of it all. I remember stopping for a moment and staring up at the sky. Above me the endless expanse of stars winked mockingly down at me. I was on the verge of tears. I know, I know - there I am, this young woman who is clearly an adult and should be responsible for herself, about to cry because I was lost. I feel ashamed of it even now, but I have to remind myself that I was in a situation that was... Clearly very unnatural.

And that was about to become a thousand times more evident to me as the night continued.

It was a little while later, my call for help was answered. I found a small establishment, and after what seemed like hours and hours of stumbling around in the dark night, I was beyond happy to find a light streaming out of the two narrow windows which sandwiched the arched wooden door between them. Above the door, there was a wooden sign, and Arabic words were painted on it. I couldn't read Arabic, so I couldn't tell you what it said. A shadow passed across one of the windows.

I almost cried in relief. There was light, and there was movement, and I knew that I was finally going to find help. I knocked on the door.

It creaked open loudly, its hinges screaming in agony. I was met with a round-faced older woman, her ruddy nose wrinkling as she smiled at me in greeting. She said something in what I think was Darija, and I apologized to her and said that I couldn't understand what she was saying. She didn't reply, and I showed her my map and asked her if she could tell me how I could get back to the little circle I'd drawn there earlier that morning - the circle that showed where my riad was located.

She glanced at it, but didn't say anything for a while. A loud hissing sound permeated the air - the thick, almost foggy air, and I remember thinking how strange it was that the air was so thick, and wondering if maybe she was a smoker or had burned something - but there was no smell that hinted at anything like that. She left the door, turning quickly on her heels, and I peered around the wooden door to watch as she rushed to a stove and lifted a berrad - a traditional Moroccan teapot - from one of the burners, where it had begun to overflow. Then, she gestured for me to come inside.

The smell of the tea wafted over to me, and I had to admit that I could have used a nice, long break at that moment. I stepped inside.

There's... Something weird that I can't really explain. Well, everything was weird, and I can't really explain much of any of this story, but... It's just - I can't remember what the place looked like, or what she looked like. It's almost as though I didn't register anything in that place except what was of immediate relevance. Like, I could tell you that I sat on this wooden chair somewhere inside this little place, but I couldn't tell you if there were any other chairs, or where in the place I was even sitting. In the middle of the room? In the corner? In the back? I... Honestly, I can't remember.

I can tell you that there was a stove somewhere in that place, but I couldn't tell you if that stove was connected to a kitchen - I can't remember countertops, or a fridge, or anything like that. I can tell you that the woman brought me a tray of tea and placed it on the table in front of me, and that she poured me a cup, lifting her hand high so that the hot liquid foamed - but I can't tell you if she joined me, or if she had a cup of tea, or even what she was wearing.

Heck, I can't even tell you if there were any other people there! Except for this one person...

I was holding the glass of tea in my hands - something about the heat was comforting to me, and I held it, inhaling the scent of the sweet mint tea. I think she urged me to drink, because I remember her hands moving in an encouraging gesture, but I can't remember...

I looked to my side at some point. I don't know why. I was distracted by something - I felt a presence - I don't know. Honestly, everything gets pretty... Empty from here on out. Like there are gaps in my memory - the kind of gaps that I've never experienced before. It's been difficult trying to come to terms with them. The memories I have of this place... They're fragmented and incomplete in the strangest way.

Anyway, I looked to my side. And there was a person sitting beside me. A man, I think. I can't remember his features very well - it was like I said before. The air was thick, like a fog, and it made it hard for me to making him out very well, despite the fact that I swear he was sitting right beside me. It startled me, because I didn't expect to find someone so close to me. I hadn't noticed him at all before. I didn't notice him when I went to sit on the chair. I didn't notice him when he sat down beside me. And... Maybe he had been there all along.

Something was up with my sight. Something was... Interfering with my vision, I think. I've thought about this a lot since this experience, and it's the only thing that makes sense to me, given the odd gaps in my memory and everything that happened.

This man, he was grinning at me. It was a forced grin, a big grin, a hungry grin. I didn't like it. I pulled back, and I set down my glass of tea. That feeling I'd gotten on the streets - that feeling of being hunted, of being watched. Suddenly it was back, full-force - no, it was more powerful than it had been before. It was so strong that it was overwhelming, and it was all I could do to stop myself from screaming and running out of there. I guess a part of me - a rational part inside - realized how much of an overreaction that would be. Sometimes, though, I think that that would have been a perfectly reasonable reaction for me to have.

I think that fear - that fear seemed to shake me awake. The haze - I think that thick air wasn't natural - I can't explain it, I really can't. But it was like something had been removed. A layer of fog. The cup in my hand went completely cold. There was no warmth in it anymore. In fact, when I looked back to it, it wasn't a cup of tea at all. It was a stone cup - an odd thing, I know, but there it was, in my hands - and inside was a thick, yellow liquid. The scent was revolting. I set the cup down on the table immediately, and it... It fell straight through the table and onto the floor.

It was as I was looking at it - looking through the table, like it was some kind of mirage that was beginning to fade - that I saw the most disturbing thing. The woman, who had been standing beside the table - her legs - she had hoofs instead of feet, instead of shoes. I swear to you - I - I saw animal legs on her. And the man - when I whipped my head around to look at the man - his eyes weren't human eyes anymore. Instead, they were like the eyes... The eyes of a lizard.

I think I screamed. I think I did, but I don't remember. I remember the sound of my scream, like a distant echo, but I don't think it ever left my throat. I don't know how I managed to keep it together, but I stood up, and I thanked her for the tea, and I told her that I needed to leave and be on my way. That I was sure I could find my own way back.

I almost jogged out of the establishment, and I didn't look back. I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran. I don't think I'd sprinted that fast since my high school PE class. God, I was shaking, I couldn't breathe - I was running into walls left and right, and half out of my mind, it was all I could do to keep running, because - because I could hear them coming after me. I could hear... I could hear the sound of hoofs on the cobblestone streets, and I could hear the sound of a whispered laughter, right behind me, like it was being poured straight into my ears, but it was a strange laughter, almost as though instead of breathing out... Whatever it was was breathing in to laugh.

And that's when I heard it. I think I was lucky. I have my own... Theory, but ultimately, I think I was very, very lucky. I heard the adhan. The call to prayer. I knew that that was coming from a mosque, and I knew that where there was a mosque, there would be people - especially now, as the call to prayer rang out through the city. I followed the sound. I ran through the narrow labyrinthine streets, and I stumbled and tripped and kept running and running and hoping that I wasn't going to run into a dead end. I just followed the sound of the adhan.

It became louder and louder, and the louder it got - the closer I got to the mosque - the farther away the sound of the hoofs became, and the farther away the sound of the odd laughter became - until finally I found myself emerging from the maze and into a wide, open courtyard leading to the mosque.

I don't think I've ever been so relieved in my life. I couldn't see anybody there, but I ran right into the mosque.

The moment I stepped into the mosque - the moment my foot was through that door - God, I can't tell you how everything changed. It was like... It was like I had left one world and entered another. Or maybe it was the other way around - maybe I had finally returned to my world. There were people in the mosque, but it wasn't the time for prayer. In fact, it was still light outside... And the sun was only beginning to set.

I broke down, then. I fell to the ground and broke down and cried, and I think I was still trembling, because I remember not being able to stand up, not being able to push myself up from the carpeted floor of the mosque. After that, things are a bit hazy. I was exhausted, and I knew that I was safe. I remember people speaking to me, helping me up, trying to understand what had happened to me. I remember being terrified to leave the mosque, and fighting to stay when someone tried to take me back to my riad. I remember an imam speaking with me - and a translator - and I remember most clearly the imam giving me a Quran and reciting some verses for me, and telling me that I had nothing to be afraid of anymore.

It took a little more persuading and convincing, but I was eventually taken back to my hotel, and the imam was right. Nothing happened to me. Nothing has happened to me at all since then.

I've tried to analyse what happened to me that day. I've had different theories. Maybe I had some kind of psychological breakdown. Maybe I met some sinister supernatural entities. Maybe I walked into an alternate reality. I... I know that by today's standards, those last two options sound crazy and completely outside the realm of reality. But I know what happened to me. I know what I saw, what I experienced. It was real - so very real - and I -

If... If I hadn't heard the adhan, or if I was too far away. If I hadn't made it to the mosque... I sometimes wonder what would have happened to me. I wonder where I might be, right this moment. I wonder...

Well, there's no use in wondering, I suppose.

I'm just happy I'll never have to find out.

You've just listened to The Old Medina by Hyba Ouazzani. I hope you enjoyed the story. I certainly enjoyed writing it and recording it and producing it, I hope you enjoyed the production of it as well. I will be building a bit on the lore for some of these stories that I am sharing, because I do have a few others that I cannot wait to get recording so I can share those with you soon.

Until then, if you have any Qs, comments, suggestions, writing advice - anything at all, please don't hesitate to send them to me on any of my social media profiles (Tumblr: @hyba is my most active).

Thank you for tuning in. Until next time!