Luxor4u

''It's a hot day Aamil.''

''Is that all you have to say after sixty years? It's a hot day Aamil. You come knocking at my door, nearly giving my old heart the fright of it's life, and its a hot day!''

''Brother, you always did write a book when a simple sentence would suffice. I did promise you that I would come back when the time was right. But my travels, my life, my wife and family...time goes so quickly and it was always tomorrow or next week, next year. I'm sorry, forgive me, I'm hear now. I'm so tired brother, so tired.''

''Yes but I thought maybe a month, a year at the most. But sixty years? So why come now when I barely recognize you.''

''To repay my debt to you as promised. A little late I know, but here I am.''

''Debt?''

Aalam reached into his pocket and pressed a solid gold Egyptian pound coin into his brothers hand. Aamil looked surprised as he held it up to the suns glare to appreciate it's shimmering colour.

''It's the same one?''

''The very same Aamil. Your treasure, as found by you on the banks of the Nile.''

''I would of thought that this would of long been spent. I gave you this to begin your adventure as you'd called it...I was sad when you left. I was left on my own, having to listen to the rumours and old wives tales.''

''And that was all they were brother, story's and old women's gossip. Do you really think that because we were found floating in an old wicker basket in the Nile with a mangy old stray of a dog that people actually believed we where the reincarnation of the fabled Romulus and Remus? It was a stray that joined us to keep itself warm at night, that's all, nothing more.''

''So you say, but as the stories grew, so did the size of the dog. It soon became the jackal.''

''I'm sorry that I deserted you Aamil. I should of stayed, to protect you. That's why I'm here. To make amends.''

''It was destined. I am Aamil, the worker, you are Aalam, of the world. We were lucky, someone was willing to give us a roof over our heads, and I was willing to work hard for the food on the table. I probably haven't achieved as much as you have my brother, but I've enjoyed the second chance that Allah in his wisdom provided. So put your mind at ease on the matter, although I still can remember the children barking after me when I visited the souk.''

''Ah, the old souk. Do you remember when we were... what, ten? And I had grabbed a fist full of nuts from the fruit sellers stall.''

''How could I ever forget. You were the faster runner, I was slow. My back was sore for many weeks after the beating he gave me when I was caught. And you spilled all the nuts. A beating for nothing. Anyway, Allah was looking over me, the fruit seller got a kick in the head off his camel, dead on the spot. I missed those times when you had left, even the beatings. Sixty years, brother, sixty years.''

''So.'' Aalam questioned. ''Are you trying to melt your coin in your sweaty grip, or making sure I don't take it back from you. Put it away safe.''

Aamil took out a small well worn and battered leather purse. Aalam grinned as he saw, and recognized it.

''So brother, you still have that sorry excuse for a purse made from the ear of a sheep as you had referred to it as I had given it to you as a parting gift. It had taken me six days of blood sweat and tears as I was continually pricked by the needle. Yet here it is, sixty years later and still as empty as when I first gave it to you.''

''Yes, and I told you then it was to small for coins, and still to small for coins now. Look, it just fits inside, no room left for air!''

''Then why keep it so long?''

''Why do you think, I'm Egyptian, we never through anything away, only our dreams.''

''As I approached your home I heard you wife telling someone that you were unwell brother. Nothing serious I hope.''

''Nothing as nothing can be. My wife's dead, that was my eldest daughter you heard. I've been a little dizzy, that's all. Its all these hot days that you were so cleaver to notice. Its gone now you know...

''What, the dizzy spells?''

''No, the old souk. Knocked it down years ago, as they did with many homes. They built a new one, but for the tourists, not for the likes of you and I. But it's empty most of the time now, no tourists, no jobs.''

''I heard the cries of loss as I approached your home Aamil, someone died?''

''Someones always dieing, drop like dead fly's at my age in this heat. The city is dieing, the whole country's dieing. We two shall soon be joining them. I'm surprised we've lasted this long. But forgive me my brother, I forget my manners. Come, meet your new family and have tea. Rest your tired feet. But I warn you brother of mine, on no accounts mention Yasmin the flower girl. You remember the one, sold flowers at the souks entrance. If they find out I'll never hear the last of it.''

''And the one you stole a kiss from every time you passed. If it makes you feel any better brother, I stole a kiss before you did.''
Aamil looked shocked at his brothers confession, and a little disappointed.

''But she told me that I was the only one, always in her eyes. Still, to this day I remember her sweet perfume.''

Aalam laughed at this. ''Believe me brother, every man was in her eyes. Its a wonder that that she could see her way home at night.''

''Well, I....

''Fuseelah...Fuseelah.''

''Sorry, I was just thinking that how sad it was when I read the letter from my uncles family.''

''You tried your best in the time that you had. Who was to know that he'd lived on the other side of the world. But as it turned out, it hadn't mattered. Aalam had died twenty years ago. Look towards your fathers face, he is at peace and its time to lay him to rest...Oh, I nearly forgot. I found this on the floor next to your fathers coffin. Its an old purse.''

Fuseelah looked at the old worn out leather purse. ''That old thing. He carried it around with him for as long as I can remember. He always told the same old story of how his brother had made it for him as a farewell gift. Its of no value. He always used to tell us that it contained his brothers dreams of a better life, but dreams never fed empty stomachs. Give it to the children to play with. Its as empty as his life was without his precious brother.''

''But it feels as if it contains something inside.''

Fuseelah took the offered purse, shaking its contents free into her hand. A small gold Egyptian pound coin fell out. ''But I only looked inside the purse this morning when I removed it from his pocket. It was empty.''

You could have attributed the author of that nice story, Mr. D!

I think that every on would know it was me Stan by looking at the posters Avatar. Anyway, you saying it was a nice story has boosted my day.

Praise indeed Dusak... I was going to enlighten Stan, but he cast the seeds of doubt in my mind....

Sorry About that...

No problem, and my couple of spelling mistakes were not noted. Double whammy for me.

It was the fact that it was well laid out, minimal spelling and grammatical errors that brought doubt to my mind!

LivinginLuxor wrote:It was the fact that it was well laid out, minimal spelling and grammatical errors that brought doubt to my mind!

I'm not to sure if the Prof has just insulted you Dusak or given you praise . .

What Stan the man doesn't realize, although I think I mentioned this fact about four years ago on here, is that I suffer from a rare form of dyslexia. This visualization problem has dogged me from first starting school. I was constantly teased, reprimanded and punished as a young child in school as being lazy, uninterested and of constantly displaying an unwillingness of learning anything to do with the written language. Nothing could of been further from the truth as I was an avid reader and my dyslexia very rarely interrupted my reading, but constantly interrupted my attempt to create it on paper. By the age of ten/eleven I had read everything that H.P Lovecraft had published. Even today most would struggle with his terminology. I was 27 when I finally discovered the cause of my problem when I watched a documentary that detailed different forms of dyslexia. I ticked off all the boxes and felt relieved that I finally had an answer to my problem. No special tinted glasses or mind exercises would help me with my problem, so I lived with it.

In a normal person if they are creating anything that needs to be written down the connection between their brain, sight and movement of the writing/typing hands happens together within a micro second with little or no further need of thought. If on a word processor they can even stop, go back a space or two to make corrections to noticed mistakes. I do not have this luxury. If I were to write a letter I would have to visualize all letters in my mind and literally pluck each one out to create the word. Then at times I would have to study a word for long moments until I could convince myself that it was the letter I needed. Lower case p&q are a constant problem, as are b&d, others offering only the need of a slight pause.

The only affective way I can overcome this problem is by speed writing or typing. The problem goes but the new problem I faced before the word processor came onto the market was that I alone could read what I had written at speed. I still have to type at high speed to produce an article, hence the spelling mistakes. Then when I go to edit and correct, the dyslexia kicks in again and I miss some obvious ones as my vision does not see them or any using the American spelling. As for grammar, this is a point of laziness that does not concern me as I have always had the tendency to write/type as I speak. Compered to some on here I could be classed as having a PHD on the subject, but its just not an important point, its readable and understandable, that's what matters and should not be of concern to anyone in regards to anyone else's written creations. And don't forget Stan, dyslexia is a recognized mild form of a disability, so you could be reprimanded for the inappropriate use of the spazzo card by criticizing my attempts.

OMG DUSAK!!! We're CLONED re: dyslexia!! Exactly the same here - well close to the same. I was able to read at a super high level and understood everything extremely young BUT could not for the life of me tell if I was writing a b or d or p or q. Teachers would not allow me to progress to a pen until I could tell the difference and was the only student in the class still using a big old pencil when all contemporaries were using fountian pens.

It can be extremely frustrating because even today I often cannot SEE my mistakes particularly if I am tired or stressed. Typing and word processing has been a total boon to me - AND - I also tend to type super fast too.......proof reading 'sometimes' happens

Good story too BTW......I knew it was you COZ I could SEE your typical TYPOS

It's turning into a bit of a club this Topic...

At School, my infants school teacher was amazed that I could read every one of the Peter and Jane books..
I had them all at home, listened to my Mother narrate the words and remebered by Picture association, the words on those pages..

I always saw the Irony in naming Dyslexia.... Obviously the tw*t who named the condition wasn't bloody dyslexic..

Its nice to see that I'm not on my own as at times its difficult to explain to 'normal' folk what its like to be word blind, especially when you are over tiered. You actually made me produce a wide grin today MB as I have made the same statement in relation to the word as every time I need to use it I always mutter to myself 'who the ---- invented this one.' An extremely difficult one for me to attempt to type but at times even more difficult to 'read'. And if this new knowledge now worries you Stan, keep on pulling my mistakes up as I do find your observations amusing.