29‏/05‏/2012

Circassian Fischt: 21 من أيار ذكرى الابادة الشركسية

Circassian Fischt: 21 من أيار ذكرى الابادة الشركسية: في 21 أيار من العام 1864 انتهت الحرب الروسية الشركسية التي استمرت 101 عام والتي سقط فيها العديد من الشهداء , فلقد استطاعات القوات الروسية...

27‏/05‏/2012

باش أمباشي ، شهبندر ، سلطان ، شاه ٍ شاه القصص القصيرة :P

بداعي الكسل و لكي أنفض بعضًا من الغبار من على الدكانة هذه، فها أنذا أعيد نشر تدوينة قديمة "how original!" ، بال 2007 كان فيه مسابقة لكتابة قصة قصيرة بشروط معينة فيما يتعلق بالموضوع،  و تحصلت على المركز الثالث .. كانت بدعم من ال بي بي سي - العربية و أخذوا صاحب المركزين الأولين إلى لندن و أخذوا دورة في فن الكتابة القصيرة و مش عارف شو :) 


يعني لأني من الأقليات المضطهدة ما أخذونيش 
واااااااع


أعطوني آي بود أيامها "لوني برتقالي!" و ما شغلته و لا ثانية عفكرة، لول .. 


المهم .. اتفضلوا  (بعرف، بعرف... موهوب و عندي ملكة و ذائقة و كل الأشياءات.. شكرًا) :] 


(هذه مقتطفة من القصة و ليس كاملها)

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Few minutes after dawn he rose, recited his morning prayers, walked sluggishly, throw some water on his face, grabbed the metal device with its shiny needle, inserted his daily dosage in it, had it injected into his thigh, took a bite, glanced a final look in the mirror whispering to himself: “a brand new day has come to accomplish something”, smiled and off to the office he went.

Rambling with ideas in his already crowded head: “what will it be like today? Did they approve my project or -as usual- delayed it? Will they call and approve the deal today? Will they find a cure for diabetes? Will I ever be one of the (they-people) some day?

Finally he arrived, glimpsed at his agenda, his calls of the day… took a deep breath and immersed in the day.

During noon he walked out from a meeting, fuming, feeling down, and very much disappointed. “They shall never understand how to conduct a business”, he mumbled. “it`s just no use, deadwood, that`s what they are, deadwood!”, he sighed with despair.

A daily struggle it was, an ordeal! More downs than ups, it was getting to him, “Will I ever leave my mark on this place, will I?”, Asked with anguish.

In the evening, he grabs his suitcase, peeks at his desk; on next day`s suffering sheets, closes his eyes and pictures the moment when he reaches home, liberates from his cloths, and kisses his 3-month old daughter. He captures himself smiling and envisions tomorrow, yes; tomorrow is another opportunity with an unremitting will to succeed.