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    #1

    Aisha and Murad- part one, Short story

    Dear people.
    Please would your proofread my short story

    Aisha had been searching for her dream prince for years, Thanks to her job as a stewardess, she travelled all over the world and had seen many countries and towns which had left an indelible impression on her. If she felt bored and depressed she should have just closed her eyes and moved to some of the places which were bubbling with people and excitement and immediately her mind would move to a busy bazaar in the Middle East or a sunny beach with palms in Caribbean. She was a beautiful, short and slim woman with wavy black hair and dark, sparkling eyes. She always dressed elegantly, buying designer clothes and expensive shoes.

    She moved from her homeland Algeria to Sweden together with her parents and her two sisters. At that time, she was still a baby and did not remember much of her homeland, although when she grew up she visited her home town Oran many times, especially during the dark and cold Swedish winters which made everyone depressed.
    She lived in a comfortable flat in a city centre and had enough money to squander it on expensive gifts to her family and friends. She did not lack anything, but for one thing: a husband. Her two sisters were already married, as well as the majority of her friends, but she still could not find a suitable man who would awake her love and make her heart jump with joy.

    However, she was not an inexperienced virgin who had never felt a hairy and strong man's hands on her bottom. On the contrary, she could have written a long list of the men she had spent a night with in the same bed. Unfortunately, the majority of them left her completely indifferent. Some of them were a very skilful lovers who knew exactly what to do to make a woman satisfied and happy, but that was a pure physical contact; sex without tenderness. After a man had left her flat she would felt such an emptiness. She would light a cigarette and draw deep puffs, hoping that the memory of the sexual intercourse would disperse as quickly as the cigarette smoke.

    Searching for him almost became her obsession. Whenever the plane touched down and she had enough time to ramble the streets in the cities and towns, her eyes would involuntarily be drawn to men. She stopped buying souvenirs and haggle over the price of the jewels and rugs. She was not interested in old architecture nor history of the ancient civilisations any more.

    Her heart was burning with yearning and the man who could have alleviated it was nowhere to be found. She felt that time was running out for her. She was almost thirty and in her homeland if a woman was not married before she was twenty five, her chances to find a man were falling rapidly. Even in Sweden it was not an easy task for a person of her age to compete with thousands of others in the hunt for a suitable man.

    To be continued..
    Last edited by Bassim; 21-Apr-2008 at 21:43.


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    #2

    Re: Aisha and Murad- part one, Short story

    Good evening Bassim. . .

    Aisha had been searching for her dream prince for years. Thanks to her job as a stewardess/an airline stewardess, she travelled all over the world and had seen/visited many countries and towns which had left an indelible impression on her. If she ever felt bored and/or depressed she just closed her eyes and moved/ imagined she was removed to places which were bubbling/ teeming/ crowded with people and excitement; and immediately her mind would move to/think of a busy bazaar in the Middle East or a sunny beach with palms in Caribbean. She was a beautiful, short and slim woman with wavy black hair and dark, sparkling eyes. She always dressed elegantly in designer clothes and expensive shoes.


    She had moved from her homeland Algeria to Sweden together with her parents and her two sisters. At that time, she was still a baby and did not remember much of her homeland; although when she grew up she visited her home town Oran many times; especially during the dark and cold Swedish winters which made everyone depressed.

    She lived in a comfortable flat in the city centre and had enough money to squander/spend on expensive gifts for her family and friends. /or.. lavish expensive gifts on her family . . . She did not lack for anything, except a husband. Her two sisters were already married, as well as the majority of her friends, but still she did not find the man who would awaken her love and make her heart jump /leap with joy.

    However, she was not an inexperienced virgin who had never felt a man's strong hands on her thighs. On the contrary, she could have written a long list of the men with whom she had spent the night / she had spent a night with in the same bed.

    Unfortunately/Indeed, the majority of them left her completely indifferent. Some of them were skilful lovers who knew exactly what to do to make a woman satisfied and happy, but it was purely physical contact; sex without tenderness. After a man had left her flat she felt such emptiness; she would light a cigarette and draw deep puffs/inhale deeply/, hoping that the memory of sexual intercourse would disperse as quickly as the cigarette smoke.

    Searching for the man of her dreams almost became an obsession. Whenever the plane touched down and she had time to ramble the streets in the cities and towns, her eyes would involuntarily be drawn to men. She stopped buying souvenirs and haggling over prices. No longer was she interested in old architecture or the history of ancient civilisations.

    Her heart was burning within her, yearning for the man who could have alleviated it/her longing/her desire but who was nowhere to be found. She felt that time was running out for her. She was almost thirty and in her homeland if a woman was not married before she was twenty-five, her chances of finding a suitable partner /man were falling rapidly. Even in Sweden it was not an easy task for a person her age to compete with thousands of others in the hunt for the right man.

    Last edited by Svaneska; 21-Apr-2008 at 23:07.

    • Member Info
      • Member Type:
      • Student or Learner
      • Native Language:
      • Serbo-Croatian
      • Home Country:
      • Bosnia Herzegovina
      • Current Location:
      • Sweden

    • Join Date: Mar 2008
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    #3

    Re: Aisha and Murad- part one, Short story

    Svaneska

    You are an angel! You have helped me so much and have to tell you thank you and thank you many times because people like you are rare nowadays.

    Don't you think I make too much mistakes? I think I do despite my reading English novels almost every day. It is probably because I do not talk to natives as I did when I learnt Swedish or maybe English is more complex then Swedish?
    Last edited by Bassim; 21-Apr-2008 at 23:22.


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    #4

    Re: Aisha and Murad- part one, Short story

    Bassim

    No I don’t think you make too many mistakes. . . it is quite a skill to relate a story and I think you do very well to make them so interesting and poignant; particularly as you are writing in an adopted language. Obviously you need to practice speaking more to get a feel of everyday English, have you ever been able to visit England? Are you able to find people with whom to practice your English, or attend English writing classes?
    Please don’t feel despondent . . . you have a gift and as they say ‘practice makes perfect’.

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