Thanks to the electricity!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
I have come up again with a new short story. I think it is worth reading. I here welcome you all, with no exception, to discover the lines of this very short story that I have written in half an hour! I dedicate it to whoever had interest in reading English stories.

Submitted: November 22, 2014

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Submitted: November 22, 2014

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Thanks to the electricity!

The early morning began with a drizzling. The sky seemed to be loaded with an expected heavy rain! The earth was becoming wet. My brother and I were deeply sleeping upstairs. My father got up early and sat in the salon, reading newspaper, watching television, and waiting for his morning black coffee. My darling mother was in the kitchen, making the black coffee for my father and the breakfast for us. After giving my father his favorite coffee, my mother mounted two stairs and started calling for us, “Guys, the breakfast”.

I woke up to the call of my mother. I went downstairs, headed to the bathroom, washed my hands and my face, and finally wiped my face. I found my father sitting in the salon, reading the newspaper; I kissed his hand as usual. In a jiffy, my mother came carrying a tray of Moroccan tea in a hand, and a plate of Moroccan pancakes in another. My mother was good at cooking! I liked her foods especially her breakfast that included, now and then, Moroccan pancakes, and eggs with dried meat, my favorite plate at breakfast. Anyhow, the breakfast was set on the table.

We had our breakfast as fast as possible, as if my father was in a hurry to be at work on time, as if my mother was in a hurry to go shopping with her neighbor, and as if I were in a hurry to attend my school on time. The day was, nevertheless, a break day on which people forget all that can bother them. The day on which people enjoy their time being together in a familial harmony. We were, however, in hurry doing wrong things instead of being together like one body.

At lunch, we met each other once again. We sat at the eating-table, having our lunch. No one sized the opportunity, being together, to tell others a joke to laugh at it. The atmosphere seemed vague, free of joking, connection, and tenderness. No one had bravery to tell anything. I held my breaths and I suggested telling a funny joke, “once upon a time, Joha decided to buy a donkey...” Yet my father gave me a sever look, as if warning me not to continue, and said, “The elders said that eating and chatting are not from the same family. They have nothing in common” I immediately shut up. I looked at my mother, as if seeking refuge in her. My mother, on the other hand, nodded her head, confirming the old saying of my father. She winked at me and I understood she was to my father’s decision. I looked at my brother, and so did he with a cunning smile. We burst out laughing in our minds! We understood each other. Once we finished our lunch, my brother and I went upstairs and stayed suggesting thousands of solutions to this situation. Yet all our attempts were doomed to failure.

At night, we were all home; my father was watching television in the salon, my mother was, in her room, massaging her tired feet after a long day. While my brother and I were, in our room, doing our school homework. All at once, all the lights were switched off! The darkness hovered over us. “What happened again?” my father wondered, damming the electricity. He jumped to his feet and walked in the darkness toward the stairs. He mounted the stairs, headed toward our room, nocked at the door, asking whether we were fine. “We are fine, dad. Come in” I said comforting him. He hugged us, as if he had not seen us a long time ago. We felt happy, as if we were playing playing over the moon. That was in fact the first time we felt our father's care.

In spite of his harshness, he proved to have an area for softness in his heart. He gathered us all in the salon, and started telling us a number of stories, few of which had happened to him a long time ago during his childhood. Since then, I discovered, though the hatred I had had for him before, not to judge people no matter what they do. In fact, all humanity is a mixture of good and bad things! I crowned it all.

“Abdelmalek Elmakryni“


© Copyright 2017 Abdelmalek ELMAKRYNI. All rights reserved.

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