it's unedited so tell me what do u think.
Chapter 1
I stood in the middle of the living room. My heart was throbbing harder with every passing moment. I wished that everything would end soon. My mother was sitting beside me on the sofa, her head leaning to her left shoulder. The TV was flashing on the wooden table.
“mamma” I said “when will dad come?”
“I don’t know boy” mamma said “just wait. He might have missed the bus as usual”
“Can you just tell him” I walked to the sofa and sat at her legs ‘please mamma. He loves you and he’ll accept your words”. I was lying. Daddy loved no one, even himself.
Mamma looked regrettably at me. “Loves me ‘she smiled ironically “you tell him what you want, don’t bring me in your stupid stories with him.”
I looked away. How she says so. I wanted to take violin lessons. I love music. Music was my life, how can she ridicule me this way.
Sometimes I though that mother was the only person that understood, felt, and even loved me. But it seems that I was deceived for the second time this week.
Last Sunday that boy named Khalid at school seemed to like me. I went to him and we talked. He said that I can join him to go to the cinema, but he never came. I waited for hours after struggling to take the twenty le from mother, but my effort was spilled on the ground. No one likes me, I thought as I went back home.
‘mother please” I kissed her pale, soap smelling hand “tell father that I wish to take violin lessons.’
She glared at me, and walked to the TV, shutting it off. ‘I‘ll sleep. Make sure that you lock the door after your father comes in”.
She strolled half awake to her room, and I sat down by the door waiting for father.
I slept, and I dreamed. I found myself flying over a long building. My father and mother stood at a lower window. I flied towards them smiling, but suddenly they started thrashing me with red rocks. I screamed and fell. I kept on falling, my heart throbbed hard, but I knew I was dreaming. I know it wasn’t real.
I opened my eyes. Sweat trickled down my face. It was hot in the doorway. The grey fan at the end of the doorway was off. Father ordered mother not to open it more than three hours a day.
Sometimes when mother would go to visit nanny, I’d turn the fan on and I’d sit down in front of it , enjoying a naguib mahfouz’s book. I read his trilogy four times, and every time it seemed more beautiful. I felt like this man could simply jump in the heart of people and watch their emotions flicker, and then he’d write about it. I wished I could be like him, or you can say that I wished to find someone to jump in my heart and see my flickering feelings, but no one did.
Reading books seemed to be the only thing besides music that made me forget my life with my parents. As I walk down the hallway, trying to fond my way into my class,students would keep on pointing at me like a headless creature, they’d point at the book in my hand and holler “ the stupid nerd akram”.
I was called nerd for my brown, squared glasses. The frame was ten times larger than my eyes, that it seemed as if it was covering my whole face. My blue eyes were magnified behind the lenses like two diamonds in a scrawny, pale yellow face. I begged father that he’d change the frame for me, but after two days from buying the new frame I crashed it under my feet as I was climbing the stairs of our home. Father thrashed me that day. And he punished my by forcing me to wear this frame for the next four years.
It was three am. I was half sleeping beside the smelly shoes. Two minutes later and I heard the clinking of my father’s keys behind the door. The door flung open with a loud creak then father came in the house.
He was a tall, broad man. he wore a white galpya. His black beard sank down half way to his chest, it covered most of his plume face, that emitted a certain radiance whenever you looked at it. but that radiance was diminished with a frequent frown.
I jumped to my feet. ‘ hamdela ala el salama father” I bowed and kissed his hands. ‘ I was afraid for you . why are you late?”
“ non of your business boy’ father said ‘ go to your bed you’ve quraan recital tomorrow and you need full concentration”
“but father ‘ I walked behind him as he sauntered to the bathroom.
“Go to your bed I said “
“father I wanted to ask you for something”
“ forget about it ‘ father said opening the lights of the bathroom “ I won’t buy you new books, only if they were religious. You need to forget fiction and learn more about fact “
‘No not books but music father”. I walked two steps backward; every part of my body was trembling. I was expecting a flood of fury to drown me.
“What? “Father said as he opened the tab and began washing his hands “music. Do you want to learn music?”
‘Not exactly. But I want to learn to play the violin’
‘My boy. My only boy wants to play the violin ‘father closed the tab and turned to face me “how dare you say it boy’
Chapter 1
I stood in the middle of the living room. My heart was throbbing harder with every passing moment. I wished that everything would end soon. My mother was sitting beside me on the sofa, her head leaning to her left shoulder. The TV was flashing on the wooden table.
“mamma” I said “when will dad come?”
“I don’t know boy” mamma said “just wait. He might have missed the bus as usual”
“Can you just tell him” I walked to the sofa and sat at her legs ‘please mamma. He loves you and he’ll accept your words”. I was lying. Daddy loved no one, even himself.
Mamma looked regrettably at me. “Loves me ‘she smiled ironically “you tell him what you want, don’t bring me in your stupid stories with him.”
I looked away. How she says so. I wanted to take violin lessons. I love music. Music was my life, how can she ridicule me this way.
Sometimes I though that mother was the only person that understood, felt, and even loved me. But it seems that I was deceived for the second time this week.
Last Sunday that boy named Khalid at school seemed to like me. I went to him and we talked. He said that I can join him to go to the cinema, but he never came. I waited for hours after struggling to take the twenty le from mother, but my effort was spilled on the ground. No one likes me, I thought as I went back home.
‘mother please” I kissed her pale, soap smelling hand “tell father that I wish to take violin lessons.’
She glared at me, and walked to the TV, shutting it off. ‘I‘ll sleep. Make sure that you lock the door after your father comes in”.
She strolled half awake to her room, and I sat down by the door waiting for father.
I slept, and I dreamed. I found myself flying over a long building. My father and mother stood at a lower window. I flied towards them smiling, but suddenly they started thrashing me with red rocks. I screamed and fell. I kept on falling, my heart throbbed hard, but I knew I was dreaming. I know it wasn’t real.
I opened my eyes. Sweat trickled down my face. It was hot in the doorway. The grey fan at the end of the doorway was off. Father ordered mother not to open it more than three hours a day.
Sometimes when mother would go to visit nanny, I’d turn the fan on and I’d sit down in front of it , enjoying a naguib mahfouz’s book. I read his trilogy four times, and every time it seemed more beautiful. I felt like this man could simply jump in the heart of people and watch their emotions flicker, and then he’d write about it. I wished I could be like him, or you can say that I wished to find someone to jump in my heart and see my flickering feelings, but no one did.
Reading books seemed to be the only thing besides music that made me forget my life with my parents. As I walk down the hallway, trying to fond my way into my class,students would keep on pointing at me like a headless creature, they’d point at the book in my hand and holler “ the stupid nerd akram”.
I was called nerd for my brown, squared glasses. The frame was ten times larger than my eyes, that it seemed as if it was covering my whole face. My blue eyes were magnified behind the lenses like two diamonds in a scrawny, pale yellow face. I begged father that he’d change the frame for me, but after two days from buying the new frame I crashed it under my feet as I was climbing the stairs of our home. Father thrashed me that day. And he punished my by forcing me to wear this frame for the next four years.
It was three am. I was half sleeping beside the smelly shoes. Two minutes later and I heard the clinking of my father’s keys behind the door. The door flung open with a loud creak then father came in the house.
He was a tall, broad man. he wore a white galpya. His black beard sank down half way to his chest, it covered most of his plume face, that emitted a certain radiance whenever you looked at it. but that radiance was diminished with a frequent frown.
I jumped to my feet. ‘ hamdela ala el salama father” I bowed and kissed his hands. ‘ I was afraid for you . why are you late?”
“ non of your business boy’ father said ‘ go to your bed you’ve quraan recital tomorrow and you need full concentration”
“but father ‘ I walked behind him as he sauntered to the bathroom.
“Go to your bed I said “
“father I wanted to ask you for something”
“ forget about it ‘ father said opening the lights of the bathroom “ I won’t buy you new books, only if they were religious. You need to forget fiction and learn more about fact “
‘No not books but music father”. I walked two steps backward; every part of my body was trembling. I was expecting a flood of fury to drown me.
“What? “Father said as he opened the tab and began washing his hands “music. Do you want to learn music?”
‘Not exactly. But I want to learn to play the violin’
‘My boy. My only boy wants to play the violin ‘father closed the tab and turned to face me “how dare you say it boy’