Half A Buck


                                      She got out of her house, cloudy day was that day. The grey sky was telling everyone that rain will come soon so get ready. She didn't notice that her old thin jacket and boots won't stand that coming rain. She was heading north to Damascus, the city witch she he loves the most, she was sure that she can't live away of that old city; she even refused many suitors because they asked her to travel and leave her beloved land. The love she had for that land was pure one, as she could never forget her childhood, her friends, the snow in January and the warm sun in June, she could still smell the scent of the old lemon tree they used to have in their garden, the colors of spring roses in her aunt's old Arabic house, oh how much she adore such houses and dream to live in one.

                     To reach Damascus, she had to take a bus, 20 minutes it will take her to get there, Umayyad Square was her destination. She got into a bus, and after paying the driver, she took her mobile phone out, plugged the headset and played her favorite songs. Whenever she puts the headset in her ears she flies away, sometimes she forget all about the world around her and start to think of many other things. She believes that music is essential to the soul as water to the body. Music turns you up and calms you down. It's just like magic, whenever she felt sadness or joy, she used to play her music and she would be in a great mood then.
                  The bus was speeding up, as she was holding her mobile, when suddenly the driver pulled at the breaks fast and in a strong way, all the passengers moved from their places for a while, and she dropped her mobile. That device was a gift from her   x-fiancé; she would fight to get it back. She saved everything on it, the addresses of her friends and family, her music and pictures and the sms's she received from him. She looked down at her feet and thank God she found it. She was going to curse the driver if she lost it.
                    15 minutes later, she arrived at Umayyad square. There were no people walking in the street, you can hardly see some due to the rain that started to pour. It was really a spectacular sight, the clouds were gathered in the sky, and the mountain of Qaseon was dark brown colored. The trees were swaying as a cool breeze blew, that sight reminded her of him, he told her once that he loves to walk under the rain; rain gives him the sense that even nature cries sometimes. His words were recalled in her mind. She still remembers what he said that day when they were talking on MSN messenger and listening to a song named "Rain". "Rain is a gift from God, I feel these drops are blessed, whenever two people walk together under rain, they will be united for ever, nothing can take them apart, because they are united by God." Those were his words, the words that she will never forget, but where is he now? He is not here with her, not any more.
                             The road to that bookshop she wanted was empty, only cars broke the silence of the road. She likes that place, the street of Malki, actually that was the most expensive place in Damascus, only merchants and high-class people lived there, it was a very organized avenue. Finally, she was not alone in that street; an old man turns from the corner. The feeling of loneliness just floats away when she saw him. He was holding a small wooden chair and a box full of shoe polishing stuff. He was looking her in the eye, and when she passed by him, his lips started to move. She couldn't hear him because she was still wearing her headset; she pulled it from her ears and gave him a nod from her head meant "What?" The old man was shivering but she couldn't know if that was due to oldness or coldness. He said," The weather is too cold, and I own no money, one of my daughters passed away yesterday, she was frozen because we had no fuel for the stove." After saying those words, he stretched his hand with a shame look upon his face, she was about to cry when he did that. Her hand moved to her pocket and took 25S.P. and gave it to that man. She walked quickly without even looking back at him. She put the headset back into her ears and continued walking and thinking. That old man seemed so miserable, he was polishing shoes for the high-class people,oh how poor is he, how could he go out to work when one of his daughters passed away yesterday? He was tough man for sure, he owns no money to buy some dizzel to turn the stove on, does he know that my father owns no money to buy dizzel too? She smiled from within and continued her way under the rain , with an old thin jacket and boots.

This is the firs story written by me

                                                                  9\12\2007
                                                                  Semi-real story

 
khazoom,  
Nice!!

I felt while reading your story as if I were with that girl. The story is simple but full of warm and sincere emotions.

Keep going on  

 
This story is full of non-sense.................
Be more careful when you want to write a story next time, but it is good beginning...

 
Sheba,  
Believe it or not! I was expecting your comment to be like this  
It is nice to criticise someone's work but at the same time you should say why, in order to avoid such mistakes next time  

 

Mmm yeah I can say to you that you have to read it once again to see how weak and meaningless the story and its plot are,I wish you gotten the weakness
 

 
khazoom,  
A nice try...
but I hope you won't be offended if I say sth about the story..
As we have learnt in our literary studies, a short story must focus on one incident only.... You can give multiple incidents in a longer story; novel.... what you have written is most likely to be a diary, coz actually if we mention it as a short story, so it is weak in its technique since its subject is related only to the last lines!! But as I've said, as a diary or a descriptive essay it is so good, coz ur choice of words is good
But anyway it is a nice try