The Pen- Sultan's Wisdom by Dennis Galloway

Author:Dennis Galloway [Galloway, Dennis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aviva Publishing NY
Published: 2020-06-04T22:00:00+00:00

Abbas Mohammad Fattah

Harold tried to hide the tears welling up in his eyes as he left the building.

As Harold stepped outside, a cold wind swirled about him, chilling him to the bone. His grip on his belongings became weak, and he almost dropped them on the steps as he descended to the street. He looked up at the gray clouds rolling in the sky above. Rain began to fall, splattering in his face. He lowered his head and slowly walked home, not even opening his umbrella. This, indeed, was a dark day for Harold.

He went home, hung up his umbrella, hat, and coat, and in slow, tired steps, went upstairs to collapse on his bed, weeping until he fell asleep.

Late in the evening, Harold woke up, shivering.

“How odd that I should baselessly be accused of theft just like Al-Hamid was,” Harold said to himself. “It is also interesting that when I follow the same wisdom imparted by Al-Hamid’s story, I receive the same results. I must do more.”

Harold decided to write some more with the pen and got up. He made his way in the dark to his study. He turned on his desk lamp, sat down, and grabbed a blank sheet of paper and the pen. He started to write. The pen gently warmed his hand and made him feel better as it started to write again.

As the fog cleared from Harold’s eyes, he found himself standing on hot, white sand near the Nile. He began to sweat from the mid-day sun’s searing heat. He put his hands over his eyes to shade them from the bright rays. He saw Al-Hamid lying face down in the mud at the edge of the Nile. He looked up and saw a small caravan of camels and their handlers walking along the shore toward him.

After nearly being eaten by crocodiles and then almost drowning in the Nile, I was found by a Bedouin tribe slowly making its way along the Nile. Later, I learned all about my rescue. I was told, in dramatic fashion, that the sun was high in the sky and the air was hot. The camels in the caravan chewed their cud, carrying their loads on their backs while following a lead camel upon which a robed man was mounted. Other men and women were walking by the sides of the caravan, their sandals making small prints in the sand. Because they walked single file, their numbers could not be guessed. They decided to stop their caravan and let the camels drink from the Nile while they ate a small meal of couscous and lamb. A few men watered the camels and then walked over to a nearby palm tree to sit and eat.

Harold watched them and saw they had not yet seen Al-Hamid. He walked over slowly to some men eating, leaned over to one, and whispered in his ear, “Go see that the camels are finished drinking.”

Ansha looked up from his food, having heard Harold. He looked at the other men.

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