THE ANTHOLOGY OF FREEDOM

AN ANTHOLOGY OF MOROCCAN NEW SHORT STORY, VOLUME 3

 

The Octopus Of Modern Times

 

 

-Short Story-

 

 

 

 

Written by Malika Assal

Translated by Mohamed Saïd Raïhani

 

 

 

 

"Hey you there, disguised between the circles of Time

So mild under the crust,

I smelt your perfume in my murderer!

Like a butterfly, you hang down, broadly smiling

But when I reach out to grab you,

You withdraw back to your velvet world

And you never peep out again

 

(***)

When I reach out to grab you,

You fly across your affluent rainbows

I do not know where to.

Yet, I never get tired.

The horses in me are urging pursuit,

The seedlings of desire are burning

And I am rushing towards you. 

 

(***)

How fortified you look

With all those jails and graveyards

Between you and me! 

        

(***)

I see you fenced with orchids,

I see you stuffed with gunpowder…

 

(***)

When your sweat and mine will get tired

you will come along appended with dew

Then, I will get  you with my hand and say:

”Come on, my love!

Come and bathe in my eyes’ water!

Have rest over my forehead!”

Briny are your apples and I Love them"

 

 

Extracts from her poem "O Freedom, you are worth your weight in  gold!"
- Malika Assal -
Moroccan poetess and short-story writer

 Born on June 13th 1954, in Ben Ahmed / Settat City, west of  Morocco 

 

Author of:

 

"Tear drop"

(Collection of poems) in 2005,

 

"Fanciful Heavens"

(Collection of short stories) in 2006.

 

 

She is getting ready for printing:

 

"Yesterday’s Tattoo on the shrines"

(Collection of poems),

 

"Cities Reconsidered"

(Collection of short stories),

 

When shall we eat Adam's apple

(Collection of poems)…

 

 

 

 

Once the mission was accomplished, I felt very exhausted. So,  I piled up on the last seat of the train compartment, projecting my eyes on the window, trying to steal some visual pleasure from the runaway panorama before my eyelids get closed and a deep sleep lift me high up to the heavens but only to find myself facing, within its space, a nightmare: An octopus-like  creature with dancing tails, hiding his face behind chameleon masks but not his eyes that glow with volcanic flame, pacing along towards me persistently.

 

Sorcerers and charlatans crowd around him. Perhaps to snatch the threads of his identity or to reveal his truth. They went miles away in their controversies but failed to meet  their target by laying their hands on his species or origins. They attributed him to Redskins, to Cowboys, to apes… They wanted to know if he is marine or algal, prehistoric or newly-born, a foundling or a legal being... Opinions and views multiplied but none could be judged as wrong or right.

 

The octopus showed his teeth and played with his tails, went to and fro before saying in a metallic voice:

- “I am the one who excels at jugging with eggs and stones, apes and humans beside the ability to thaw in my saliva the valva of the volcan”.

 

Awe gained the crowding bodies, terror overwhelmed the shivering souls…

 

Another team of physicians and herbalists, those dead and the ones alive, joined the crowd to investigate whether this weird being is carnivorous or herbivorous.

Some saw that he is carnivorous as he loves eating nestlings, butterflies and foetuses in their mothers’ wombs, even getting outrageous at the sight of  blood. Others concluded that he is herbivorous as he loves eating leaves, buds and saplings.

 

On his part, like Tsunami, he carried on destroying carelessly everything, ravaging all fields and devastating all oases.

 

Unanimous agreement stressed the importance of getting rid of this monster that feeds death channels  throughout the world with human bones and skulls, builds pavements of communication between the spots that he minutely chooses in order to plant seedlings of freedom and democracy as he prophesies in such a malicious way that everyone can perceive…

 

Dumbstruck, I kept looking at all the ravages and ruins that he stirred up while something strange like ants bubbled up from under the wreckage and doubled in number, climbing up his neck and tails… Fear gained me… His tails started corroding so very badly….. Sweat overwhelmed me… His veins got truncated one after the other… Raucousness borrowed my shouts …

 

At last, he fell down in an abyss, sparking happiness in everybody among the audience. Shouting was all that can be heard. Then, there came claps and acclamations in the rhythm of the whistling train that wakened me up with the broad smile still drawn on my face.        

 

***********

* The writer, Malika Assal is a Moroccan poetess and short-story writer, Born on June 13th 1954, in Ben Ahmed / Settat City, west of Morocco. She is the author of:  "Tear drop" (Collection of poems) in 2005, "Fanciful Heavens" (Collection of short stories) in 2006.

She is getting ready for printing:  "Yesterday’s Tattoo on the shrines" (Collection of poems), "Cities Reconsidered" (Collection of short stories), “When shall we eat Adam's apple” (Collection of poems)…

 

*The translatorMohamed Saïd Raïhaniis a Moroccan translator, scholar & short-story writer, born on December 23rd 1968 in Ksar El KébirHe published in Arabic "The Singularity Will" (A Semiotic Study on First-names) 2001, "Waiting For the Morning" (Short stories) 2003,"Thus Spoke Santa Lugar-Verde" (Short stories) 2005, "The Season Of Migration to Anywhere" (Short stories) 2006, "The Three Keys: Freedom, Dream & Love" (An anthology of Moroccan New Short Story in Three Volumes) 2006-2007-2008, "The History of Manipulating Professional Contests in Morocco" (Syndical manifestos in Two Volumes) 2009-2011, "Death of the Author" 2010…

He is getting ready for printing:"Beyond Writing & Reading " (testimonies)  , "Kais & Juliet" ( Novel) and ""When Photo Talks" (Photo-Autobiography).

 

 

 

 

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