The man who never screamed

The man who never screamed(Ibrahim) Have you ever heared a story about a man who never screamed?
In case you haven't I would be glad to be the first person to tell you one.
Back when I was a ten year old boy, I had very undisciplined friends in school. They used to put themselves in all kinds of situations everywhere they would go, just for having some "unique fun" as one of them used to say, dragging me with them in every single trouble situation they put themselves to. but they were the only friends I had, so I didn't mind any of those troubles, and to be honest, I was having fun too sometimes, but unlike them, fun wasn't the thing I was seeking, not mainly, only the things that happened to us just after we had done the things we used to do for having that kind of fun, its consequences I mean, our english teacher's punishment for example. He was the toughest man I knew, the toughest man in the eyes of a ten year old boy at least, a huge man with an awful wide moustache, creepy circle sunglasses, thick wooden stick in his hand and some frightening voice accent flowing out from his mouth, funny in some way, but none of us ever dared to say any comment about it, not even me when I wanted to get beaten cruelly, and yes I sometimes wanted to be beaten cruelly, I needed that back then, twice a week at least, getting beaten was more like an anti-screaming practice to me. I can't actually remember when excatly I started that sort of practice, all I remember is that my father once told me "You are no longer a man in the eyes of a person who hears you screaming. If the day should come when you must scream, do it when you are alone". He thought that a man has no need to think of himself as a man. That day never came though, not back then, maybe because I believed that my father was wrong, a man surely needs to think of himself as a man, although I wasn't really a man then, just a very proud ten year old boy, a boy who never screamed before, not as far as he could recall. I asked my mother once if she ever heard me screaming, she told me that she did, only once, the day she gave birth to me, however, my father denied her story, saying ironically "these screams were hers, she just couldn't tell the difference".

After too many years I realized that I am no longer that ten year old boy. the years turned me to an old man, almost fifty years had separated me away from that boy I was, my basic needs had been lost in some unusual new feelings, a certain motivation came to light, I couldn't help but thinking that maybe the day had finally come, the day when I must scream. eventually I came up with a conclusion that maybe my father wasn't wrong after all, maybe I don't have to think of myself as a man anymore, everybody thinks of me that way and that should be enough. the idea seemed wierd at the moment, but it gave me such unmatched relief, and then I decided to do it the way my father taught me. I waited for the night to come then I marched a half mile into some deserted neighborhood, until I was sure that it was only god who could watch me screaming there. soon I realized that it won't really matter if the whole world was watching me there, because I couldn't do it. I tried several times, but my throat didn't obey. I had never screamed before, I never knew how to, and I was stupid enough to think that it was a thing to be done from the first try after spending a lifetime practicing how not to do it.