V.I.P.-part four Short story

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Bassim

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Please, would you proofread my text.

Thus, the Mayor of the town was like a tightrope walker, trying to stay neutral as much as possible and compromise to keep his office going. He was a forty-seven- year-old man who had never dreamt about politics. In the past he worked as a librarian in a local library and succeeded in compiling the book of short stories of the local amateur writers. Until now, it was the only book which had the connection with the town. Three of the copies were in his office; two in the bookcase and one example always lay on his table. Now and than he would browse through it and a feeling of pride filled his heart. At least in literary terms, the town was not a god forsaken place.

He remembered how he had pleaded with the Central government in the past to send him more money to buy books, and still as the Mayor his care for the library had not stopped. Whenever he talked with politicians in the capital he asked them to support his local library which some of them did and the others promised the money but never kept the promise.
If it had not been for his wife he would have still read Dostoevsky behind the information desk in and felt glad helping a few rare visitors. It was her continues prodding which made him accept the post. He knew that if she did not have a chance to become the First Lady of the country at least she could have become the First Lady of the town.

We do not know how the Mayor got the news of the arrival of the very important person. What is known however, is the fact that already in the morning upon his arrival on his job, he had ordered his secretary not to disturb him because he had to write his speech. Alone in his office, he felt excited and nervous at the same time. He had never thought of the possibility of standing in front of his fellow citizens and that important person and talking. What if his voice start faltering? If he suddenly become so nervous and his mouth dropped open and he unable to produce a word?"

He looked out the window and saw citizens gathering around; old men with their working sticks in their hands and black berets on their heads sat on the benches and chatted, old women with their knitting, young mothers feeding their babies, jobless, homeless, alcoholics....
"This town is a strange place," he said . You cannot have secrets. How have they heard about the news?"
He walked back to his desk, took his pencil and wrote the first draft of his speech.
"Dear Sir (or maybe it will be dear Madam)."
It is my great pleasure to welcome you to our little town. We are all happy to welcome you to our community. Although geographically remote, our town never lacked hospitality. Neither harsh winters nor scorching summers have prevented our people in their desire to develop themselves in best possible way..."

He stopped and thought for a moment. The last sentence sounded stilted. It must be short and concise. The speech itself was not important at all. He had to concentrate on his book. He must give it to him or her and talk about the library. Try to persuade him or her. A cheque would be nice. He also needed a sponsor for a new book, "Collected poems, Town's best poets."

To be continued...
 

Svaneska

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Re: V.I.P. - part four Short story

Thus the Mayor of the town was like a tightrope walker, trying to stay neutral as much as possible and compromise to keep his office going. He was a forty-seven-year-old man who had never dreamt about politics/who never dreamed of going into politics. In the past he had worked as a librarian in the local library and succeeded in compiling a book of short stories of the/written by local amateur writers. Until now, it was the only book which had a/any connection with the town. Three copies were in his office, two in the bookcase and one always lay on his table. Now and then he would browse through it and a feeling of pride filled his heart; at least in literary terms, the town was not a godforsaken place.

He remembered how he had pleaded with Central government in the past to send him more money/extra funds to buy books, and still/even as Mayor, his care for the library had not stopped. Whenever he talked with politicians in the capital he asked them to support his local library which some of them did and others promised the money but never kept their promise.

If it had not been for his wife he would still be reading Dostoevsky behind the information desk and feel glad/happy helping the few rare visitors. It was her continued prodding that made him accept the post/position. He knew that if she did not have a chance to become the First Lady of the country at least she could become the First Lady of the town.

We do not know how the Mayor got the news of the arrival of the Very Important Person. What is known however is the fact that already in the morning upon his arrival at his job/office he ordered his secretary not to disturb him because he had to write his speech. Alone in his office, he felt excited and nervous at the same time. He had never thought of the possibility of standing in front of his fellow citizens and with that important person and talking/speaking. What if his voice started to falter? If he suddenly became so nervous and his mouth dropped open and he was unable to produce a word?

He looked out of the window and saw citizens gathering around; old men with their walking sticks and black berets on their heads sat on the benches and chatted, old women with their knitting, young mothers feeding their babies, the jobless, homeless, and alcoholics....


"This town is a strange place," he said. You cannot have secrets. How have they heard about the news?" He walked back to his desk, took his pencil and wrote the first draft of his speech.
"Dear Sir (or maybe it will be dear Madam)."
It is my great pleasure to welcome you to our little town. We are all happy to welcome you to our community. Although geographically remote, our town never lacked hospitality. Neither harsh winters nor scorching summers have prevented our people in their desire to develop themselves in the best possible way..."

He stopped and thought for a moment. The last sentence sounded stilted. It must be short and concise. The speech itself was not important at all. He had to concentrate on his book. He must give it to him or her and talk about the library. Try to persuade him or her. A cheque would be nice. He also needed a sponsor for a new book, "Collected Poems, Town's Best Poets."

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Bassim

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Joined
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Student or Learner
Native Language
Bosnian
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Bosnia Herzegovina
Current Location
Sweden
Svaneska
Thank you once more for helping me.
Have a nice day!
 
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