Shadow on the Wall: Superhero | Magical Realism Novels (The SandStorm Chronicles | Magical Realism Books Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

he had met in university in Britain, but there was more to her than that. Something that spoke of home.
    When he was younger, he had found Western women exciting. A woman with a mind of intellect and a body for exploring things forbidden to him in the religious community he grew up in had been new and intoxicating. Soon he learned that while their minds stimulated him, their Western ways quickly wore on his nerves, always displaying themselves and jockeying for attention. Rebekah seemed like a woman to spar words with, and to respect. She was a novelty in the oppressed culture of Elih.
    "You are very welcome, Recai." The corners of her mouth moved up as she spoke, her smile belying her demure stance. "My father likes you."
    "Does he?"
    Recai allowed himself to sink lower into the mattress, fatigue returning to him now that he had been fed.
    "Yes, he values honesty. Remember that and you may have found an ally in him."
    Her eyes lingered on his, open and honest. Rebekah's ease and confidence impressed him. After his ordeal, he couldn't help but consider the importance of having someone on your side.
    With that thought paramount in his mind, Recai Osman drifted off to sleep.
     

     
    Morning came early in the small house on the edge of the desert. One injured Muslim didn't mean the world stopped turning, and Hasad had things to do. There were animals to care for and the day's food to prepare. His morning chores didn't take long, with only the one camel and a few other livestock to feed, but the work needed to be done. This life was nothing like the one he had dreamed of in India; this life he would abandon if not for his beautiful daughter.
    Before the sun rose, Rebekah was up boiling vegetables and spicing a sauce for his lunch—food she wrapped easily in paper and that he could eat with his hands. He would be gone most of the day, trading and looking for a day's work where he could find it. Plus today he had the task of finding a ride for Recai back to the city.
    Hasad contemplated the man sleeping in the back room of his home. He was nothing like any other Muslim he had met before. There had been no judgment of their home, their religion, or of his daughter's outspoken nature. To have Rebekah relegated to living in fear and covering her body thanks to the requirements of another man's religion outraged Hasad. Seeing someone from outside his community regard her as a person, a wonderful person at that, was refreshing.
    As he readied to leave the house, Hasad kissed Rebekah and squeezed her tighter than usual.
    "Child, the gun is under the couch."
    "Aba—" she protested, but he held his hand up.
    "Recai seems a good man, but if he is not you aren't to hesitate. And if anyone comes to the door…"
    "I know, Aba. I close the door to the back and put on my burqa. I know, I am alone almost every day."
    "Yes, but today, there is actually more to fear."
    Hasad hesitated, reconsidering his decision to leave her alone with Recai. But he dismissed the thought. Besides earning a living, he had to arrange for the man's departure if he was ever to be rid of him.
    Hasad walked out of the house without another word to his daughter and without checking on Recai. He wasn't dead; Hasad could hear his rattled breathing. God help me if there's fluid in his lungs. Was he saving a life or harboring a wanted criminal? Either way, it was time for Recai to go.
    Outside, the air was dry, and the familiar taste of the desert greeted Hasad. He had lived here for so long it was hard to imagine his life before. Sand disguised the lines separating road from yard, deep tire tracks and packed-down earth the only marks distinguishing between the two. The few houses near him were bustling with activity: boys heading off to school or work, men congregating to pass the time, women and infants beginning their routine within the home.
    Homes in Çayustu were old and in poor repair. It wasn't unusual to see an entire wall replaced with a lean-to or a window