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Mohsen Faraji

 

She took off her green shoes and passed the covered stairs to go to top floor. Man looked at the girl’s dirty and cleft ankles.

She lounged about her heavy and careless body on the carpet.

 

He locked the door, went straight near the windows, and pulled the curtain very fast with out any attention to the place they were together.

Then he looked back at her face and asked her “what do you want to drink?” She fanned her self with her veil and answered “water”. He asked: what kind of water you want? She frowned at him and replied” cold water!” Man turned on the fan and went to the kitchen. There was only the noise of turning fan heard. Man said: say some thing, break the silence!” his voice was trembling.

The empty glass was near the girl, there were some little drops of dew on the glass. She looked at him without saying a word. He left his place and moved closer to the girl then sat next to her. Her hair was dangling on the shoulders. He tried to get closer to her to touch her hands but she jumped up and went to another angle of the room and hid her self in that veil then nagged and told him” u want to do something wrong?

She stared in his eyes and said: I know you are our schoolmistress’ husband.  He smiled and replied, “No I am not, and I am your friend.

She said,” It is a nasty lie”, and then continued sobbing “if you are not her husband why did u want me to come with you?

He said again that I am your friend. She was murmuring “my friend died .three of m y best friends, ”Rahele” ,”Asal”, ”Zahra”. Our schoolmistress died too, can’t you remember? She asked.

“When did it happen?” He asked.

” when they thrown the bombs over our city. We were in the class, all the students were there, she was in her office, the bomb was thrown then Rahele, Asal and Zahra died, so she died too. My head and my ears were full of noises, but I was alive, then you came to school I saw you near the school’s gate, can’t you remember?” The girl answered impatiently.

His down lip was shaking “no”. She said again “you were near school‘s gate, bombs had destroyed it, every body was crying, you cried and bit yourself as you were saying “she is dead”.

Before that, you always used to visit our school with this purple car to take her home with you, remember? 

 

He moved his head to the left and right, looked at her beautiful arms in which were shining under the veil. The irritating noise of that old fan and its rusty hinge was heard. She looked down and started to play with her fingers and moved her body so gorgeously gentle and soft.  Her Breasts appeared under the veil. He was so surprised and his mouth went dry, swallowed his saliva. Stood up very suddenly, she didn’t pay any attention to what he was doing; she was experiencing a sort of strange mood and didn’t notice how and when he left the room. He went out and opened the bath door.

When he came back inside the room again, her neck was on her shoulder and moved very slowly, she felt the man standing by her side, raised her head and looked at his tired and sweaty face, his eyes were so tired.

He told her” leave here right now!”

She asked” where can I go?  Go home! It was the respond heard from the man. She wore her veil and decided to go. He took out the key from his pocket and unlocked the door.

“Bye”…. “Go; go … close the door without making a noise. He answered.

 She went down stairs…

Before he could manage to pull out the curtains, there was a knock on the door, someone was knocking it with their fingers … he opened the door and saw the girl standing before his face, saying “hi .let’s do It!!!

 

 

      End of  Message

             ****

Translated by: A Shahande for Atiban only

 

Atiban Note for All Viewers

 

Last year “Mr. Fatollah Biniaz” –Iranian writer and critique- presented his favorite 160 selected stories to Atiban as one of the readers for this international magazine. These stories have been published since 1368 (1989) till the first month of autumn in 1385(2006).  Now that the English section of Atiban is available with the help received from some of our friends and partners we dare to translate the stories into English. We are expecting and hoping these types of ambitions can generate interaction to introduce Iranian literature across the world.

 

persian:مى‏گويم عيب ندارد

 

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