The Secret File

[letstalk]

Psst! Would like to know why Moroccan are learning English language so hard?

-My name is Moussa and I was always been doing nothing just sitting at my parent home. I felt useless and my head was empty although I could read and write. On day I decided to learn the English language on my own reading the Internet Web pages in English every day. My aim is to write a story that will tell the wide world about me. Each day I am practicing the writing more and more. And now I feel I am getting better at describing things using the five-senses: taste, smell, touch, hearing and sight.

-My name is Farida and I am learning English because I wanted to be a children book's author. I will be very happy the day I publish my first book collection about Moroccan children in English but for now I make the learning English study my second job.

-My name is Bashir. I have two children and I wanted them to learn English. Alas, children books are not so available in Morocco. My idea is to improve my English writing and me myself write stories for my own kids. I am sure it will be fun and very useful to us.

If you have been thinking to write a book, this is an example













The summary

It all began on the train compartment number seven of the high speed train of Morocco named Al Boraq, Mr. Ahmadan Kas seated in the wrong seat by the nook beside the window but shortly was informed that the seat was not his by a young tall Moroccan girl named Fadalla Zink who was wearing jeans, running shoes, and a long-blue-sleeved chambray shirt. Her eyes were covered with sunglasses, her teeth were chewing thoughtfully white gum, and one of her hands was holding a book that says "Morocco Is Changing" and below that was a picture of a mob of mad people throwing their arms into the air.

Mr. Ahmadan felt a little dolt and had to find his seat number now. When he started looking for it somewhere down the train, big trouble started chasing him to death. Al Boraq was not stopping!
Suddenly Fadalla came to his rescue as she was not an ordinary train passenger but a well-trained secret agent that Rabat sent to shield the secret file from being published by the Spanish media.

 

[letstalk]

Chapter One


Mr. Ahmadan Kas poured himself a cup of coffee and sat in the balcony gazing at to the outside world. The day was heaven in the early morning. No breeze or refreshing wind to cool down the air he was breathing. Up to the blue sky he heard some birds chirping and cooing. They were only a dozen of them. He felt a little worry as one day no bird might fly in the Morocco sky if animal protection acts kept loose. The antique clock behind him hanging on the white wall chimed seven o'clock sharp. He stepped his foot forward, drank some more coffee, and looked down the street but he did not spot any men squatting at the base of his building walls. It was a relief he thought.

Suddenly a man showed up down the building near the front door started shouting loudly "Beeel! Beeel!" as this word exists in any dictionary he wondered.
Mr. Ahmadan gazed down toward the source of the sharp loud sound. He easily spotted the man and his two-wheeled donkey carriage. The carriage had two small white cisterns filled with some blue liquid. A woman came with a five-liter empty plastic bottle. With bare hands the man filled it with that blue liquid, handed the bottle out to her and got the money, looked at it and then pocketed it. No change was returned. The woman walked away to where she came from. The man shouted again and again "Beeel! Beeel!" but no other buyers came by, he then clubbed and hollered his bloody donkey racing down the street to another potential neighborhood.


The word "Beeel" means "Jabeel" which refers to the bleach liquid in the Moroccan street language. Such dangerous material mustn't still on sale in such way Mr. Ahmadan scolded himself before he drank the last sip that was still resting at the bottom of his cup and sauntered to the shower.

It was a quick shower and by the time he returned back to his living room, the phone had rung three times within one minute time frame. He looked at his iPhone screen, saw the missed calls, but did not click any of it to see more. Instead, he hooked the phone to the charger and laid the phone on the table for the battery to be charging.

Suddenly, a knock was on his door. Somebody was pounding on the door louder, and louder, and even more louder. The door basher did not pause or stop. He kept harassing the woody door just like the man who works for a collection agency trying to get hold of you and collect the outstanding balance by calling you a dozen times a day.

Mr. Ahmadan calmly stuck his left eye to the peephole. He could not see anything but his ears heard a voice saying

"I know you are behind the door my dear, I wanna talk to you. Open up"
It was a woman's voice but harsh like a judge's voice before producing a sentence. He knew who she was yet kept quiet. She lives next door. Her name Whoda Safran, 35, she is divorced with two children. A few seconds later she hit the door again with her hand palm and he was certain if he didn't open the door, she won't scat. She will glue to the door like a woman's perfume.
He took a deep breath
"How did you know I am here" at last he said at the same time opened the door.
She did not answer his question but pushed past him into the inside. Her hair was unkempt, her brown eyes looked red and tired, and her boobs were popping up like balloons making the logo of her T-shirt askew.

"I know you came last night. Didn't you?" she said and after she cleared her throat added
"I wanted you to rest first, Mr. Ahmadan"
"Thanks for considering that" he replied her and shortly after that he added "You look pale, sleep deprived, and rest what you need. What's going on madam Whoda?"
"The day before you came, two odd men were looking for you"
"How did they look?" he excitedly questioned her with some qualms inside him
"I don't know"
"one is tall but not taller than you, the other short but not taller than me" she said
"Were they speaking the northern accent of Morocco"
"That's right" she replied
"I think I might know who they were, thanks for bringing that to my attention this quick" he told her