# Rose



## feeltherain (Mar 26, 2011)

something i wrote fairly quickly and something ive probably got horribly wrong factually but i'd just like people to assess my writing style. please let me warn you that ive never been particularly good at spelling and my grammar needs work. thanks for reading 



            The rose dropped a soft red petal onto her closed eyes. Smiling she lifted her arm in its elaborate lace sleeve and with slender fingers, flicked it onto the crisp, green grass. Her olive skinned arm dropped back to the surface of the fountain; the icy water greeted her fingers with cold, welcoming arms. A water lily floated by bringing a fresh smile to her face: this was the life. 
            A shadow fell over her as Samara, her servant, stood silently waiting for her mistress to notice her. 
            “Yes, Samara?” she said tiredly, fearing her peace was about to be disturbed. 
            “Your husband asks your presence my lady,” Samara replied, bowing her head. 
            “Very well, I’ll be along in a moment.” She sighed as she swung her legs off the stone shelf of the fountain. Her bare feet reluctantly touched down on the rough grass making her shudder. 
            She rose gracefully and strolled across the garden illuminated by the searing hot sun. At the stone archway that stood as the entrance to the house, she turned. The garden was in full bloom. Flowers were everywhere: across the grass, up the walls even on the windowsills in stone urns. The fountain sprayed crystal clear water over the deep red roses that laced its three tiers. The three pools sparkled in the summer sun. The balcony beyond the fountain looked out to a canyon with a deep river running through it. She could hear the waterfall in the distance. A smile crossed her face again. _Life has been good to me, _she thought, _nothing can alter the beauty of this place. _The garden had been built specially for her. 
*    *    *​            “I will not accept this. Mohammed has no right to restrict the movements of the citizens. A curfew will not stand. Put the word about this ruling is to be flouted by every occupant of the town. Our illustrious ruler cannot arrest all of them.” Rashid placed the curfew notice on his desk amid the other documents that detailed the day-to-day working of the town. Mohammed was the accepted leader, the son of the rich man that owned the town by birth right. Rashid was appointed by Mohammed's father to run the town properly. Neither the father nor the son had interfered in the town before. 
            “But, sir. All of them?” Ali replied, incredulous. Ali was the head of his guards. Recently Mohammed had integrated his own men into the town’s barracks. Ali had noticed them instantly; he knew every guard personally. He knew their names, their wives’ names, their children’s names. When new men appeared he ordered his own soldiers to stop discussions about the town in the mess halls. Whenever a new man asked questions he was told about it. 
            “Every man, woman and child, Ali.” Rashid was insistent. Whatever Mohammed was planning he didn’t like it. 
            “Very well, sir. I will make it known.” Ali bowed his head and turned to leave. He smiled as he saw the woman in the doorway. 
            “Ah, my beautiful wife. Come to me.” Rashid grinned as he took her into his arms. “More beautiful than any rose do you not think, Ali?”
            “Absolutely, sir,” Ali smiled at the happy couple. “I will leave you to it.” Ali left in good spirits, relishing the return to his own wife. 
            “You demanded my presence, my love,” she said playfully  
            “Never my dear,” he teased back. “I respectfully requested your presence.” He kissed her soft lips affectionately. 
            “What did you want, my dear?”
            “Tonight. What were you planning?” 
            “Well the same as usual,” she smiled teasingly at him causing him to break out in another wide grin. 
            “Well tonight I thought we could go into the town square.” 
            “Why?” she asked, still smiling. 
            “Mohammed is trying to impose a curfew.  I have ordered all the people to parade in the square tonight in protest. I thought we should join them.” She stopped smiling.
            “So its work?” 
            “Yes. But I thought it would be good to get fresh air as well. See the people we serve. Eat at an inn.”
            “The place we met.”
            “You guessed,” he said with the tone of a sulky teenager. She pretended to think for a while. 
            “Well since you put it like that. I think it’s a lovely idea.” Her smile returned, lighting her beautiful face. He took her in his arms and kissed her once more. 
*    *    *​             The streets were lit with lanterns of many colours strung between the houses. Hana stood beneath them, frozen in a state of awe. 
            “Come on Hana. We’re meant to be meeting mother in the square,” the man called to his sister. Hana shook her head and ran after her brother as they raced down the alley to the centre of the town. 
            “Hurry my children, the whole town is here now,” their mother called to them when they emerged from the dark street. A large fire was raging in the centre, illuminating the large crowd that had gathered at Rashid’s orders. Dimah brought her children to her arms and smiled to herself at the crowd that had gathered. 
            “Look there is Rashid and his wife. Isn’t she beautiful, Hana?” Dimah pointed over to where Rashid had just exited the inn. The man’s followed their gaze’s and his jaw dropped as he saw the woman Rashid was guiding to the fire. To him the orange glow made her eyes glitter as she laughed along with her husband. Ali and his wife and children stood next to them basking in the warmth of the fire and the happy couple alike. For the boy, the world had stopped turning. 
            “Look away my boy,” said his mother softly. “She is married. You cannot approach her nor could you were she not married. Look away my son.” Dimah knew the look on his face and dreaded its coming. Her son was to be married soon to the daughter of a family friend. Hana looked at her brother, confused. 
            “Mama, what is wrong with him?”
            “Never mind, Hana, go and play with your friends over there.” Hana ran off in the direction of a group of giggling girls as the boy brought himself back to the real world. 
            “I’m sorry mother. It just distracted me for a moment. I am going to go for a walk.”
            “Very well. Don’t go near her, my son, it would be a mistake.”
            “I understand mother.” He walked off half in a daze  
*    *    *   ​            “This was a lovely idea, Rashid,” she sank into his arms in front of the fire. 
            “Yes, and we have had no interruption from Mohammed or his men. Many of the families are heading home now aren’t they?”
            “Yes it is getting late and the children are tired,” replied Ali, “in fact I think I should return home myself, sir.”
            “Of course, Ali, we shall be moving on soon ourselves. Goodnight to you.” 
            Rashid and his wife began to move off on the path to their house when soldiers rushed the streets, Mohammed at their head. The centre turned to chaos with fire and swords everywhere destroying the nearby houses and cutting down the people who still remained. Rashid pushed his wife into an alley as he rushed with Ali to join the fray. Guards rushed out of the barracks to tackle the soldiers. 
            The woman whimpered as she watched her husband battle to protect the townspeople until a hand clutched her arm. Another hand clamped on her mouth, stifling her scream. She turned to see a handsome man staring into her eyes. 
            “Come with me,” he whispered trying to lead her down the alley. 
            “No I can’t,” she protested, “My husband...”
            “There’s no time, follow me.” He led her down the alley away from the sounds of battle. She stole a glance behind her as they turned a corner, but she couldn’t see her husband in the melee. She looked back at the man leading her through the labyrinthine streets of the town. He was handsome; she couldn’t deny that, his black hair was feathery and unkempt. Wild, like his deep brown eyes that scanned the alleys for the path to safety. Something in his touch made her heart beat faster. No! She shook her head violently. These thoughts were wrong, she loved Rashid. She decided instead to focus on getting home safely to wait for him.
            Eventually the man stopped. She was at the gates to her estate. Strong iron bars to keep the world out. It had never been such a welcome sight before. She turned to look into the eyes of the stranger.
            “Thank you,” she said sincerely, forgetting everything that had passed or was to come, living for the moment they shared. “How can I ever repay you?” He did not answer with words. He leaned in, took her soft cheeks in his hands and placed his lips to hers. Her eyes widened with shock, but she did not push him away. Her eyes slowly drifted shut as she melted into his arms. He pulled away first. 
            “That is all the thanks I would ever want.” With that he ran back the way he came into the shadows and was gone from her sight. 
*    *    *   ​            “Rashid, Praise Allah,” she ran to his arms burying her face in his chest. He held her tightly, grateful she hadn’t seen his face yet. 
            “My love, everything will be alright. Come to bed, my angel.”
            “What’s wrong, Rashid?” she asked, removing her face from her husband’s chest. She gasped. “Rashid...” Across the left side of his face was a deep sword cut that ran from his forehead to his chin. 
            “It looks worse than it is. I will have someone look at it tomorrow. Come now, to bed.” She was reluctant but eventually followed him to their chamber.
*    *    *   ​            “Enforce the curfew, Ali. Send my condolences to the soldier’s families.”
            “But sir...”
            “No Ali. I won’t have a repeat of last night’s violence. I will talk to anyone with concerns. Mohammed will pay for this in time. I will ride to his father’s estate this afternoon.”
            “Very well sir. I will inform the citizens.” Ali bowed respectfully as he left the man to brood. The surgeon had been and gone offering only a few stitches and the prospect of a severe scar. 
            The fatalities of the previous night totalled 57. Men, women and children alike; no one had been spared the soldiers’ charge. 20 of those people had been soldiers from the garrison, bravely taking up arms as soon as the men burst through the bushes. Rashid had decided then and there to help the families of the men who died anyway he could. He himself had been concerned for his wife’s safety. He had turned to look for her when he felled a soldier but couldn’t see a trace of her. Finding her waiting for him at his estate had warmed his heart and lifted a heavy burden from his shoulders. 
            He ran his hands over the bandages across his face and sighed. He knew his wife was not shallow and would not care if he had a lasting scar; but somehow, he felt that nothing would be the same. 
*    *    *   ​            She ran her hands through the pool of water in the fountain, smiling in contentment. The night’s events had all but vanished from her mind. Rashid was safe. That mattered more than any material item in the world. 
            She turned to the sun, feeling its warmth spread across her face, over her closed eyes and bright smile. She would go and give food to the widows later but for now life was good and she barely even remembered the young man who had saved her. 
*    *    *   ​            Weeks passed after the raid on the town. Rashid had visited Mohammed’s father and received nothing for his efforts. The man said little and what he did say praised he son for strength of will. Rashid told him the scale of the devastation the boy had caused but received no reply. In the end he left, heartbroken. The man he had known and respected was not the man he met that day. Mohammed smiled at him as he left the house. 
            The survivors were coping well. Aid was given when required and many more young men had joined the garrison in light of the attack. Some were just boys and were turned away at first. Until Rashid saw them for himself. He could not refuse the look of vindication they held; the unyielding belief that if they could avenge their fathers everything would be alright again. He allowed them entrance as helpers and runners, carrying messages and equipment with the promise that when their age permitted it they would become soldiers too. 
            The gash on his cheek healed into the scar the surgeon had promised. His wife showed no change in her manner towards him and he was heartened. Looking upon her flawless face shamed him sometimes, but her never saw anything but devotion in her returning gaze. 
            For her part, she did not think about the man who had brought her home safely or the kiss their shared as his reward. The boy, however, thought of nothing else. 
            Everyday he timed his movements to best catch just a glimpse of her face. He envied the man who held her when they strolled through the town of administered aid to the families. Yet he saw a change in his demeanour that he felt no one else could see. He walked with less vitality and held her less frequently. Something was not right. That gave him hope.
            Once their eyes met but hers showed no recognition. His showed only longing and perhaps that would have frightened her had she remembered who he was but for now they were both safe. It was not until a letter came to Rashid many weeks later that they would meet again. 
*    *    *   ​            The letter in itself was not unexpected. More demands from Mohammed. They had been coming more and more often. Rashid signed his approval and bid Ali enforce them. He barely read them now. The fight had left him completely. All he did was run his rough fingers over his scar all day and sit in a defeated heap in his office. The aid was administered by the soldiers with Ali overseeing the distribution. He silently wept for his friend and feared for the man’s wife. A woman can take such coldness only for so long. This proved true on the day of that letter. 
            She waited in the doorway for Ali to leave and take with him another law to add to the growing list. She saw the sadness in his eyes as he left, still bowing his head with respect as he did so. Rashid ran his hand over his cheek again and slumped in his chair. She urged herself to go in but couldn’t. She could think of nothing to say to him to make it any better. The nights they spent together had changed and with no prospect of a child on the horizon her husband remained listless. She turned and left without looking back once. 
            She perched on the stone shelf of the fountain and ran her fingers through its pool of water, but she felt no magic in it. The sun spread no more warmth on her beautiful face, only mocked her attachment to the aesthetic pleasures she had valued. She didn’t stay long in the secret garden. She couldn’t. It didn’t feel like it was hers anymore. It felt like she was stealing it. 
            The town’s alleys welcomed her with a dark embrace. She clung to the shadows and cold stone of the walls as she strolled alert around the maze. She knew who she was looking for but neither where to find him, nor a name by which to ask for him. She knew nothing about him but his handsome face and piercing eyes. Fortunately fate has a way of mocking its playthings. As she turned a corner there he was playing with two small girls, his face alight with a smile of pure happiness. It warmed her, that smile, she had almost forgotten what such a smile looked like. 
            One of the girls turned to see her and stopped in her tracks. The other soon followed and the man aimed a look of confusion in the direction the children were now fixed on. His mouth dropped. She had found him. By accident perhaps but did that matter? He saw recognition in her eyes, she knew who he was. His heart skipped a beat. He rose to approach her and she made movements towards him. They met halfway down the alley and locked their hands together between them. 
            “Rashid..” she began. “He has been so distant, so cold. I...I wanted to feel loved again.” the man hushed her and pressed his mouth to hers before she could change her mind. She kissed him back with equal vigour warming to the feel of him. Again, he pulled back first and tightened his grip on her hands. He led her away, through the alley into the sunlight that seemed to welcome her presence with a soothingly hot apology. The two girls followed giggling to themselves. 
            He led her to his home and introduced her to his mother. Dimah could not believe her eyes when she saw the woman, still in a lace gown, standing in her dark kitchen. She hurried the giggling girls out the door and swiftly offered the woman a drink. They sat and talked for a while avoiding any mention of Rashid or the sudden lapse in freedom the town was experiencing. Reluctantly the sun left the man to walk the love of his life back to her husband. He stopped around a corner so they would not be seen together. They kissed passionately before tearing themselves from each other and parting with glowing smiles on their faces. 
*    *    *   ​            The list of demands kept coming. Rashid grew more and more listless and cold towards his wife. She no longer visited the garden. It was maintained to perfection only for the birds and insects that graced the roses she had loved so much. She visited her saviour almost every day and locked herself in his strong arms as soon as she saw him. The world was better when she was with him. 
            One day his mother decided to visit an elderly neighbour and take Hana with her, leaving the whole house to them for the evening and most of the next morning. She had debated with herself for hours over whether this was the right decision and it was the smile on the woman’s face whenever she entered the house that decided things for her. 
            He led her to his house as he always did, though she knew the way well enough now, and they rushed through to his small room. The quarters were simple, primitive but neither noticed anything. They kissed like the world was ending and lay together on the collection of sheets and cushions that made up his bed. He removed the simple dress she had taken to wearing so as not arouse suspicion and she removed his shirt. She pressed herself to his chest taking comfort from him and his beating heart before gently pulling off his trousers. 
*    *    *   ​            The sun greeted them as they awoke together but their smiles outshone it easily. He held her in his arms for a while before he conceded that she should probably return home. She doubted that Rashid would have noticed her absence but dressed all the same. They left the small house as Dimah and Hana returned. Dimah had a knowing smile on her face and nodded as the couple made their way through the streets. 
            Ali yawned in the morning sunlight, relishing a new day of training for his troops when his gaze fell upon a young couple walking hand-in-hand. He smiled before the moment of realisation hit him like a landslide. It was her. Definitely Rashid’s wife with some boy from the town. Hand-in-hand. He was shocked but not altogether surprised. He hoped Rashid didn’t know and never would, though he couldn’t help but wonder if this might be what awoke him from his reverie. Whatever happened he hoped he would never have to tell the poor man. 
*    *    *   ​            They parted company in the usual place, in the usual way. The kiss felt deeper after the night they had spent together, more meaningful. She walked up to the gates with her new smile and saw Ali and his grave look there to greet her. Her smile dissolved in an instant. He knew. 
            “I will not tell him,” he stated, “but if he asks I will not deny it. I hope you know what you are doing.” He left it there and went to collect the new wave of laws that had come in from Mohammed. 
            She stood alone, wanting nothing more than to run into the safety of her lover’s arms. Instead she braved the house and even went to the office to see Rashid as he brushed his hand across his cheek and signed the new orders. Ali didn’t look at her as he left. 
            “Come in my love,” Rashid called from his desk. “I know you lurk there most days. I missed you last night, where were you?”
            “I...” she couldn’t answer. All excuses, plausible or not, left her head. All she could thing was: I was laying in his arms not yours. In his bed not ours. With him inside me not you.
            “I know I have been distant, my love and I am sorry. Mohammed appears to be running out of demands. This may be nearly finished. Forgive me, my love. Please.” She was deeply touched by his words and she felt her eyes sting with the beginning of tears. Before she could stop them, they flowed from her dark eyes and down her smooth cheeks. Rashid held her in his arms, as warm as her lover’s. 
            “Now, now, my love. It will all be better from now on. I love you. With all my heart.” She cried harder at these words. She felt the stab of betrayal in her stomach and wished for the first time that she had never met that man. Better she had been killed in the raid than betray her husband. 
            “I am sorry, Rashid.” The words choked out before she could stop them. She bit her tongue knowing that this was not the time.          
            “For what my love. It is I who must apologize for my behaviour. You have done nothing wrong.” A cry of torment escaped her. She knew she had to admit to it, but just couldn’t. The words tried to force their way to the surface but she fought back, beating them to the back of her throat. 
            She didn’t go back to the town that day and she spent the night with her husband but all the time her mind wandered to the man and despite the wait for her husband to return to her, she wanted nothing more than to go back to her lover’s arms. 
*    *    *   ​            “Can you confirm it, doctor?”
            “All signs indicate it yes; your wife is with child sir, congratulations.”
            “Allah be praised, thank you doctor, thank you.”
            “Don't thank me, my friend, I will leave you to it.”
            The doctor walked out smiling at the look of joy on his friend’s face. They had waited for this for many years. Rashid rushed to his wife with a look of pure joy on his face. She smiled a withered smile. A smile of doubt. She thought she knew but just couldn’t be sure. She thought that her child could not be her husband’s.
            She needed to see him, talk to him, tell him her news. They had shared a bed many times in the past months when Rashid rejected her and even when he didn’t; when her selfish love brought her back to his arms. 
            Rashid reluctantly got on with his work with Ali and she all but ran to his house to get it over with as quickly as was possible. They sat down at the table with Dimah serving drinks. Hana had been hurried out to play when Dimah had seen the grim look on the woman’s face. 
            She held tightly to her lover’s hands and blurted the words in quick succession. It took a few moments for the mother and son to connect them into a coherent sentence but when they did the silence remained as shock pervaded their placid faces. 
            “My dear girl,” Dimah exclaimed unable to let the blanket of silence cover them a moment longer. “Do you know who the father is?”
            “I...I am almost sure...mostly sure...that it isn’t Rashid’s,” she stuttered still clutching her lover’s limp hand.
            “Almost sure?” the first thing he said stung her with its bluntness. 
            “Mostly sure. It wouldn’t matter anyway. It’s you I want, truly.”
            “That makes no difference, my dear, you married Rashid and nothing can change that.”
            “I could kill him,” the man piped up staring blankly at the table. 
            “That my own son would suggest such a thing. It is shameful, it is a sin. How you could even allow such a thought to enter your head I do not know.”
            “I am sorry mother, but I cannot help thinking it. We could be together then.” 
            “As long as you do not act on these thoughts, my son. We will think of something, you’ll see.”
*    *    *   ​            The walk to her home was done in a pained silence. Neither of them could think of anything that could improve the situation. They stopped on their usual corner and embraced each other. 
            “Would you leave him for me...if you could?” he asked her tentatively.
            “Yes,” she whispered so quietly she wasn’t even sure she had said it. He held her closer and they both cried unashamedly. To them this was their final parting. A child changes everything. 
            He hugged her close, tilted her head towards his and kissed her deeply. He pushed her away towards her home and her husband. 
            “Promise me I’ll see you again. Even if it’s just a glimpse. Promise me,” she said tears running down her dark cheeks. 
            “I promise,” he replied clutching her so close he thought she would suffocate in his chest. They both knew the promise wouldn’t be kept, but the hope helped the separation. “I love you, my angel.” She nodded her head in acknowledgement, unable to speak through her tears. 
            “I have to go now, so do you. Goodbye my angel.” He pushed her away to arms length and studied her features, making sure his memory was accurate. She moved towards him and pressed her lips to his for one last time. He kissed back and as always broke away first to hurry her home. 
            He remained on the corner until the sun finally left him then spent the night aimlessly wandering the streets that he had led her down. When he returned home he passed his mother in silence and buried his face in the cushions on his bed. They still smelt of her. 
*    *    *   ​            He played it over and over in his mind. Perhaps he had been mistaken. Perhaps it hadn’t been her. He knew it was her and there was no possibility of a mistake. She had been kissing and embracing another man. It threw everything into question. Did she love him? Why had she married him if she didn’t love him? Was the child his? 
            He shuddered as he ran his hand over his cheek. The child. That was the main issue. They had been waiting years to be blessed in that way, now the miracle felt tainted. A knock at the door resounded through his office. Ali stepped in upon Rashid’s command instinctively knew something was wrong. He hoped it wasn’t what I thought.
            “Ali. I must ask you something and I wish you to be honest with me.” Ali’s heart sank to the floor, his hope torn in two.
            “Is my wife faithful to me?”
            “My friend,” he struggled to keep his voice even. “How can you ask such a thing of her? She has been loyal since you met.”
            “I saw her yesterday, Ali, in the arms of another man. Tell me I was mistaken in what I saw.” He looked over to his friend and wordlessly pleaded with him to refute what his eyes had told him. 
            “I am sorry my friend, I cannot.” Rashid raised an instinctive hand to his cheek. Refusing to believe what his senses and his trusted friend were telling him. “How long have you known? How long has it been going on?”
            “I don't know how long it has been happening but I have not known long.”
            “The man. The man I saw her with, who is he?”
            “I’m not sure. But I can find out if it is your wish.”
            “Yes find him. Bring him here. I will go and talk with my wife.”
            “Rashid, do not do anything you will regret, please.” Rashid didn’t reply. He looked grave and Ali was hesitant to leave him in this state but he had a job to do and he was nothing if not loyal. 
*    *    *   ​            “Have you been unfaithful to me?” She was perched on the stone seat that overlooked the canyon and its river. It was the first time she had been in the garden in weeks. The sun made her whole body glow and she sat elegantly and ran a soft hand over the roses. A look of horror crossed her face but no denial came from her mouth. He sighed. 
            “How could you? Have I not provided for you? Have I not loved you enough? Answer me.”
            “Rashid... I don't know how it happened. It was a mistake, Rashid, please believe me it is over now.”
            “How did it start? How long has it been going on?” nothing was soothing his anger. She was frightened at his state but wouldn’t believe that he could hurt her. Couldn’t believe it.
            “It started the night of the raid. He rescued me from the square and led me home. He kissed me as a reward and for many weeks I forgot all about him. But you grew distant, Rashid and I found him again many weeks later. We kissed goodbye but did not sleep together until only a month or so ago. Please Rashid believe me when I say it is over. We both knew it could not continue. I still love you, Rashid.”
            “Is the child mine?” 
            “I... I... I don't know.”
            “Tell me what you think. I need to know. Tell me!” she winced as he shouted. She could easily have lied to him but it didn’t feel right amongst the honest words.
            “I don't think so Rashid. I'm so sorry.” For a while he was silent, carefully considering her answer. The child wasn’t his. She admitted it herself. The barrier that prevented him from harming her meant nothing anymore. He lashed out with a closed fist and hit her face with force enough to knock her to the ground. She fell shocked and clutched her stomach. This enraged him more. Did that bastard child mean more to her than him? 
            “Do you love him?”
            “I did but...” his fist cut her off. She edged to the stone seat with pure fear in her eyes. Surely this wasn’t the man she had married. 
            “How could you? How could you?” He grabbed her arms and held her a few inches off the ground. She glanced behind her to see the river gushing through the canyon at a deadly pace. 
            “Please Rashid. It’s over now. I will never see him again. The child doesn’t matter. I love you, please.” 
He shook her words from his ears and closed his eyes as he pushed forward. A dull splash sounded her impact with the water. He opened his eyes to look down at the river. The rose bush had been badly damaged by her falling body. There had been no scream he was sure of that, but he thought she had whispered a name as she fell and not his own.  
            Rashid ran a hand over the scar on his cheek and whispered the name almost questioningly, like he was forgetting it as her body floated down the river. He was not sure that that was the boy’s name but that didn’t matter, Ali would bring the boy before him soon enough. He would not need to know he name for what he would do. He stared down at the river, with his hand still touching his scar, and sneered at the wife he had known. Down below in the icy waters soft rose petals floated with the current, trying to catch up with the woman who had loved them.


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## Trides (May 1, 2011)

Very good! I like the plot, but I do have some criticism. Sometimes I think you use an excessive amount of adjectives, as in a few of the first sentences. "Smiling she lifted her arm in its elaborate  lace sleeve and with slender fingers, flicked it onto the crisp, green  grass. Her olive skinned arm dropped back to the surface of the  fountain; the icy water greeted her fingers with cold, welcoming arms." You could make that "Smiling, she lifted her arm in its  lace sleeve and flicked it onto the  grass. Her olive arm dropped back to the surface of the  fountain, the icy water greeting her fingers." On the other hand, it would be good if you elaborated a bit on the story line. We could learn a little bit more about Mohammed's harsh rule. Overall, I think this story is awesome--just needs a little editing.


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## Cat Laurelle (Jun 29, 2011)

I like this sort of local and time period. I think it's pretty mature and natural in it's development, but that's just my humble opinion. I suspect it would be bought by publishers relatively easily. Maybe with less religious references that are specific though-so you don't alienate much of your readers due to religious comfort.


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## MissTiraMissSu (Jul 15, 2011)

Oh wow. Just... the ending. I have so many questions! But it was nice and entertaining. To see Rashid so drained of life was painful, but understandable. And this Mohammed guy is a jerk...  She just wanted to be loved. But alas... I loved it.


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## WordsOfLoveSong (Jul 20, 2011)

Oh my I love romance. This was a really nice read... I do agree this leaves so many questions. A sequel in the making perhaps?


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## SamanthaMarie (Mar 4, 2012)

Love, love, love. Of course there are little things here and there, but like you said you wrote it fast so just go through it when you have time. And like stated before, elaborate more on the laws. They seem to be an important part of the story and why Rashid became distant and unattentive. I absolutely adore your ending, it left me wanting more and the emotions were so real and raw, leading him to his drastic action.  Kudos to you!


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## AuthorsKeep (Mar 6, 2012)

the first paragraphs are really good, i didn't really have the time to read all of it but i will surely come back to finish <3


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## MariahNaomi (Aug 6, 2012)

i love the amount of detail you applied,you just need to balance it with the plot. I love your writing style. :thumbl:


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## Anonymous93 (Jan 24, 2013)

Oh. I love a good romance, and this is a very promising start to your story too. Post your next part soon, I can't wait to find out what's around the corner. O


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## summergenevieve (Jun 10, 2013)

Your prose style is great and it flows incredibly well. You have the balance between description, dialogue and the character's emotions/feelings perfect. Well done.


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## TheJungleDrummer (Jun 19, 2013)

I liked this story very much and your style is very compelling.  You mentioned about it being factually wrong.  From the names and storyline, I assume it is in an Arab/Muslim setting? I have lived in three Arab countries, one Levantine and two GCC.  There are a few little things which culturally would not be an everyday/common occurrence, for example:

“Ah, my beautiful wife. Come to me.” Rashid grinned as he took her into his arms. “More beautiful than any rose do you not think, Ali?”.  Although it goes against the romance of the story, a husband wouldn't draw attention to his wife's beauty in public or to a non family member.

Also, don't forget when you are looking at future chapters, under Islam a man can have up to four wives, although legally not all countries permit it these days. Depends on your target market of course and the period this is set in.

Once I have got PM privileges, please feel free to ask me any other research questions.


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## Jillian (Feb 15, 2014)

Great story! I liked the ending. Your writing style is beautiful.


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