The mystery blogger award

I was honestly so surprised to be nominated by the very talented Tamara Rockicki from the blog Tamara Rokicki, but mostly so happy and so honored because it means that our bloggers community is a melting pot. No matter where are you from, your voice will be always heard, even when English isn’t your first language. So, thank you so much Tamara Rokicki for spotlighting my work.

The mystery blogger award was created by Okoto enigma; a lifestyle blog.
““Mystery Blogger Award” is an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts. Their blog not only captivates; it inspires and motivates. They are one of the best out there, and they deserve evry recognition they get. This award is also for bloggers who find fun and inspiration in blogging; and they do it with so much love and passion.”
– Okoto Enigma

Now, I am going to list you three things about myself:

1. I don’t like feathery objects or animals. And I still don’t know whether to call it a feather phobia or just a thing that disgusts me. (It is weird, I know.)
2. I am not an author of a certain book, but someday, I will be that. And so, blogging isn’t my main activity, because I am actually an engineering student from Morocco.
3. I used to be the kind of person who doesn’t have “no” as a word in the dictionary. But, so many chronicles which shaped my life, taught me that sometimes I should be a mean person because the situation requires that.

Tamara Rokicki asked me the following questions:

1.At what age did you realize you were a creative person?
I think I realized I was a creative person when I was 13 years old. I used to carry with me a mini dictionary all the time, so that I could use it to write a poem.
2. What is the strangest food combination you’ve ever eaten?
I don’t think I have ever eaten something that strange. I am very careful when it comes to food. (hahaha)
3. What is your favorite book genre?
My favorite book genre is definitely mystery and horror.
4. Who is your most memorable school teacher?
The most memorable school teacher is the English teacher who used to teach me in high school.
5. What is the one piece of technology you absolutely hate?

I don’t think I hate anything, (I am a very peaceful person hahaha) because technology is designed to facilitate our daily tasks. And so, I don’t think I hate any piece of technology.

Since the rules say that I should be nominating other blogs. I would be happy to share them with the world because their work deserves to be sharable.  So, I am nominating the following blogs:

1.Damn, Girl, Get Your Shit Together.
2.Tash
3. Robin LEEANN
4.THE WHIRLY GIRL
5. Little fears
6.Idiot writing
7. Heartstring eulogies
8.Young and twenty
9. A writer’s note
10.Tomorrow is another day

The five questions I am asking my nominees are: (I would be very pleased to read your responses)
1. How did you develop your writing skills?
2. What are your interests besides blogging and writing?
3. Who influences you and inspires you to be a better blogger/writer?
4. What is the most awkward situation you went through?
5. What is your favorite book of all the time?
My best posts:
1. Defining beauty.
2.Thoughts about dreams.
3. Dear world
4.Our silent moments.

The rules:

  1. Put the award logo/image on your blog
  2. List the rules
  3. Thank whoever nominated you and provide a link to their blog
  4. Mention the creator of the award and provide a link as well
  5. Tell your readers 3 things about yourself
  6. Nominate 10—20 people
  7. Notify your nominees by commenting on their blog
  8. Ask your nominees any 5 questions of your choice; with one weird or funny question (specify)
  9. Share a link to your best post(s)
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Social schizophrenia.

schizophrenia aka a mental illness that generates delusional perceptions in the mind of the concerned individual…The mental disease cause in his brain a war where casualties are the mere facts and the reality that was once well perceived. After the attack, illusion and delusion become unified to create something from nothing inside the individual processor; imaginable friends become real, the sudden change on the level of personality becomes distinguishable and the conversations with one self also becomes very common… And the reason why I am writing about schizophrenia is within the next few lines. In my entire life, I met a lot of double faced people, traitors and liars who shot you with a gun that’s yours. And that’s very classic and very normal, because society is divided into two main categories; the rest is just about details. Now, those two categories are: people who lie and people who don’t. To make the picture crystal clear, this is what I am meaning: People who lie are most likely to be in positions of power. Unfortunately, that power is abused and not well used for the benefit of the country, because corruption exists, robbery exists and bad politics also exist. Wealthy people who are in charge of many occupations in the government (and I insist on the word wealthy) lie to themselves by trying to turn everything that it’s on their dirty hands to their own good even when it’s not right. Why? …to climb desperately the wall of glory. Those bad people who call themselves ministers, mayors and others could’ve eaten money if it was eatable. Luckily, it isn’t. I’m not saying that all of the system is run by them, but the majority of them are taking over the control. So, they don’t only lie to the population who buried millions of hopes in the ground of that wicked government, and chose that one government as the perfect leader, but they also lie to themselves. And I think that it’s called social schizophrenia; because they make promises they won’t keep them, they give long tedious speeches about many protocols and unachievable projects. And when the time arrives to return everything to its stream, they act like they never planned something, like they never said something.  People call it hypocrisy; I prefer to call it social schizophrenia.

Thoughts about dreams.

Played back scenes from the past, an unlimited long carpet rolling under your running feet, a hill where you can’t rid of a non-existing beast and the weakness of your legs that don’t allow you to flee until you open your eyes and realize it was just a weird bad dream…Some things cannot be explained, or perhaps I can’t explain them. And, the blur, the odd concept and the repetition are what add to our delusional visions a taste of bizarreness…
When the darkness anchor in an ocean of a billion shining stars, the guardian of our dreams and the stars becomes the moon… It is at that time that our unconsciousness speaks of the untold stories. It is at that time that our secrets are revealed to that magical guardian and wiped off once the day arrives and the sun rays erase a wonderful painting of that dark ocean.
Unconsciousness is the secret behind our memories, the tale of the unsaid thoughts and the moments; we wish we could tell ourselves. When we dive into our non colorful dreams, we succumb to our fears; the loss of our most precious wishes and the promises we fear to break, we succumb to our regrets; people who pushed us to draw a red line underneath trust or people we wish we had more pictures to remember them by. We only see what we want to see or what we fear to see. There is no in between…And the most unexpected part is the felt emotions when sleeping. Do we really feel when we are dreaming? Is the feeling of joy, of love or of sadness real? I think it is, because without emotions dreams are nothing but a tedious senseless movie you would never watch…

Confusion.

Days and months are outnumbered…I stopped counting when my heart became narrow in a wideness of affection. As the nights were flying away, the wind made of their wings motion was cooling down the ardor. And the devotion to an eternal pledge was becoming heavier. The bridge linking two different worlds was deteriorating and the traffic was slowing down, even at rush hours…Excitement and nostalgia have faded as an old pair of jeans washed too many times. In brief, my emotions were evaporating like boiling water. And the many questions were starting a revolution in my head: Why don’t feelings last too long, like happy ending fairytales? But do they really vanish? Or do they just hide in the back of our minds like childhood memories? And if they do, can they grow again?
I was running out of passion…all the promises I made, were not making sense to me anymore, I was no longer certain if I can still keep them like valuable jewelry left from my third grandmother. I was not even sure about the present. It was a dream turning into black and white…It was a fresh fruit getting rotten. And the future was a complete blur: A hundred pieces puzzle.
Just like when sea waves destroy castles made of sand; time has slowly erased the lines of a new page that should’ve never been written. Time, have gradually killed the new born love in my heart like veronal poisoning. Suddenly, the text didn’t fit anymore with the story and the warmth of love was becoming hell. I realized that, from the beginning: the choices were actually obligations and the feelings were indeed sweet hallucinations to forget what pushed me in the first place to be unrealistic. And just like when you force yourself into taking a medicine to make the pain go away, I have forced myself into tasting an allergic substance which I knew beforehand it would make me sick. But then, why not risk? I thought to myself that a little of adventure will do no harm to anybody. And I said that life is too short to read the precautions and to not break the rules. Because, at some level, we all feel rebellious to the reality that imprisons us in deoxygenated rooms…But, I was wrong.
I was sure, now I’m confused… But, I have learnt that affection is a passenger who can’t stay…

Short story: The investigation.

-“I’m sorry”. The pathologist said.
The words were swirling in his mouth like bullets when pushing the trigger. I was staring at him, watching his lips making little motions that were big enough to dump a hefty rock on the left side of my chest. The only rhythm I was feeling was the rhythm of my heart, getting crushed like an annoying fly. The doctor was still giving his traditional speech about the time and cause of death. But I didn’t listen to any of that. I was succumbing to the heaviness of my head. I was mute. I was very sad.
-“You should tell the rest of your family. And you better start the funeral procedures as soon as possible.” A hand was patting my shoulder. Even though the police officer was standing right in front of me, all I was really seeing was my sister in her most beautiful dress, waving at me.
-“Goodbye sis”. I whispered despite the fact that my lips were sore and pasted. I could hardly eject a word.
The police officer was gone before I even realize it. I was standing alone in a raw hall. I turned my head to the right, there was a large size sign reminding me again of something that doesn’t need to be reminded; “The morgue”.
My remorse was emitting poison in my veins. For a moment, I felt anemic.
-“I should’ve never shown her the documents… I should’ve never shown her those photos…I should’ve not…” I was repeating desperately and continuously the same sentences until I was out of that gloomy place. For a few seconds, I forgot my home address. The panic attack swooped down on my pulse then quickly moved to my brain in order to jam my settings. It was more of sadness than fear. But the unshakable feeling of terror was getting the best of me.
I was leading a peaceful normal life, and then I accidentally swallowed the wrong pill. Do we really decide for ourselves? Do we really choose our destinations? Or, is what we choose, is the chosen for us? On this earth that is dating approximately to four thousands of million years, I only wanted one thing: calm and tranquility. But it was too much for a history teacher like me. I don’t lie and I don’t hurt people if I didn’t count the time when I punched a man with a rose tattoo on his cheek ; thanks to my skills at martial arts. But still, I’m a good citizen. Why would bad things find me within hundreds of criminals who are specialists in all sort of shady businesses? Why would misery overlie my carrier? I had questions, but no answers. I had doubts, but no convictions… I had proofs, but no clues. I was pushed to an affair like a prisoner pushed to his cell. I had dreams and now I have fears.  I’m jobless, but fortuitously I’m not broke. And there it was a brand new chapter: ambiguity of a sudden death. Was I the author? Hell, no I wasn’t. I was only a character who doesn’t know his role yet. I was missing many facts. But one thing I wasn’t missing: my sister wasn’t suicidal. My sister was so pacific, so gentle with everyone and anything including plants. Why would she put an end to her life? She wouldn’t.
-“Do you need somebody to give you a ride?” A disembodied voice said.
A mid thirty woman appeared. She had an authority aspect emphasized with the sillage I smelled, when she approached me.
-“I believe it was a homicidal”.
-“Excuse me?”
-“I’m an ex-detective. We can talk about it all, on our way to your house.”
I shook my head swiftly with my red puffy eyes slightly closed, indicating that I had no idea where was she going. But, she was my only shot and I wasn’t going to let it go to waste. If that means something, it only means that there was hope for me to get my mission well done. And my mission was to find my sister’s killer.
-“Just so you know, I have trust issues”. I said with a fake smile.
-“So do I”. She replied with a silvery tone.
-“Let’s go then”.
We got into her grey Mercedes, and then the talk began.
-“See, like I’ve told you, I’m an ex-detective and …”
-“But you’re so young. Why did you leave your position?”
She heaved a deep sigh and said: -“I didn’t. They made me do it”.
“Surprised” was written on my forehead. In fact, I never knew how to hide my emotions.
-“Who’s they?”
-“The state… It’s a long short story and for now we better focus on more important things like your sister’s death”.
-“You’re right”.
-“I’ve been following this kind of incidents lately and my intuition tells me that someone was sewing something that is not pretty. Your sister isn’t the only victim. There are three people killed so far and they all died in weird circumstances just like your sister.”
-“I know.” I said with a wobbly voice.
The woman that I didn’t even ask her name, was a little shocked, but happy even though I didn’t know what’s so happy about all of that.
I continued talking, but this time I was confident.
-“I found some things unwittingly and…”.
-“Shit! Stay down and hand me the gun beneath your seat!” She shouted.
-“What is going on?”
-“My dear, this isn’t the right time to ask questions. We’re been followed and I guess they’re trying to remove us from their list. We know too much.”
-“ What we’re going to do?”
-“Just stay calm. I can deal with this. This was my job”.
When we dodged the mafia-looking-classic car, I released a long breath. She was driving to the hills and she seemed like she knew where she was heading.
-“We’re going to my safe house. We can no longer visit your home. As you can see, it’s a little bit perilous.” And there it was my answer without even asking her.
-“A little?” I said in a taut manner.
-“Anyways, getting back to our main topic; what do you know? Or let me put it this way: What do you have against them?”
-“Wait! I need to know exactly who are they, you keep talking about this anonymous group and it makes me more nervous.”
-“Well, they’re not a group. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a secret society that worships money and power. Their ultimate goal is to reach the summit, to break the records and to be unbeatable.”
-“This sounds familiar to me…Something like Illuminatis?”
-“No, it has nothing to do with that. Now, tell me what kind of documents you have!”
-“…Some odd photos and papers with big numbers.”
-“Okay, it could help us. How did you find these goodies by the way?”
-“Last week I was leaving my history class, and then a man in a dark blue suit was rushing to the director office carrying a satchel. He dropped the documents and I went after him with the scattered papers in my hands. But I couldn’t find him. I decided that I will leave them in the reception but when I took a look at them. I changed my mind. I knew something was fishy.”
-“Okay, I understand.”
When we finally arrived at her house, it was already dark.
-“Make yourself comfortable”. She said.
-“You know after I found those documents, I started getting weird private calls…One time, I thought I was being robbed by someone who has a tattoo on his face! But when I thought about it, I knew something was off”.
-“Wait, wait…What have you just said?”
-“I thought that a man with a tattoo was stealing me…”
-“How was his tattoo? Describe it for me please!”
-“It was a rose on his cheek.”
-“This is a relevant detail!”
-“Was it the same man in the suit?”
-“I don’t know. It could be.”
-“I’m going to study those photographs and papers. I’ll provide you in the morning with the maximum of information I could extract from them. For now, you can rest. It was an exhausting day for you.”
-“Thank you!”
-“Your room is upstairs; the one on your right.”
-“Okay! I got it.”
I had terrible nightmares and I couldn’t sleep. At 4am, I joined the detective in her study room.
-“My name is Sarah by the way”. She raised her head smiling at me.
I laughed.
-“Nice to meet you Sarah. So can I help you with something?”
-“Indeed, you can. What was your sister’s birthday?”
-“The fifth of June, 1997”.
-“Well then, I guess I discovered the answer to one of my questions.”
-“I feel like we’re living one of Agatha’s novels.”
-“Look, your sister didn’t die because she knew about the documents; you could’ve died instead of her. You’re the one who found it at the first place.”
-“Meaning?”
-“Meaning; your sister was involved with this society. One of their membership conditions is that you must be in your twenties and you will absolutely agree to obey any of their leaders’ commands. Your sister wasn’t aware of the degree of seriousness of their contract…The punishments were very severe that it could lead to death.”
-“What? No, my sister wouldn’t do such a thing!”
-“I know you’re shocked, but this time you have to trust someone and it’s got to be me”.
-“And how did you figure out all of that?”
-“That’s why I was an ex-detective. Like I said, it was my job.”
-“Okay. Can we go to the police now and tell them everything?”
-“No, not yet, we have to show them other concrete proofs.”
The investigation was on and I was impatient to get rid of the weight on my shoulders.
At 9am, I was drinking tea while Sarah was still working on the case.
-“Yeeeessss!” Sarah screamed.
I ran to the other room to see Sarah’s victory. And what a victory it was!
-“You should hear this!”
-“Tell me!” I was thirsty to know about it.
-“One of the bank accounts on these papers you gave me belongs to Julio: their leader. See, Julio have been transferring millions of dollars to this bank account which also belongs to the man with the tattoo: Edwardo. The interesting fact about this; is that Julio have been giving money to Edwardo three times at row. The first time was a coincidence with the first murder…The second time when, the twenty year old Frank was found dead in his kitchen. And the third time, when your sister died. But they can’t all be coincidences. Can they?”
-“You’re super smart!”
-“Now, all we have to do is go to the police and they’ll take it from here.”
-“That’s it?”
-“That’s it my dear! Bad people always leave marks behind them, because their intelligence is slightly covered by maliciousness.” She laughed.
The nightmare was gone and so was my sister. But I had to move on.
Sarah became my best friend. She tried to fill the gap in my heart, however, the gap was always there reminding me, just like that big sign of something tragic…

Feelings.

I had wings. I flew far away. I fell when I realized it wasn’t real. I fell into a river that couldn’t carry me. I wasn’t floating like a small boat that lost its way. I was going down to where rocks and pebbles were guarding their aquatic kingdom. Coins, necklaces, faded photos…anything that reminds of a mournful past was resting beneath the stars and sunny skies, when only fine strings of light pierce the surface and those inauspicious pieces finally see the day. It was a well that keeps secrets and archives of sad incidents. It was a place where tears were mingled with water. And seldom, it was a place where joy was blended with the scent of seaweed and algae…
I found myself in an unknown desert. I kept walking on the hot sand as if my feet were stepping on burning coal. The scarf on my dizzy head wasn’t protecting me from the sun that made my mind melt. Not even a living creature was crawling. My heart was crawling though. When I arrived at a forsaken oasis, it was too late. I was letting my body to the heat. I collapsed. The desert was an accurate personification of loneliness and despair…
At some point, everything was so confusing like questions with multiple answers. At first, it was meant to make me forget, then it turned into a challenge with myself and then the wheel was spinning so fast I couldn’t stop it. I thought I was playing safe but I was fooling myself and my heart. I was drowning so deep…I was wandering alone in a deserted place; no one could’ve saved me.  I can’t say if I’m really happy or if it’s only one of my sweet illusions. But one thing is sure: feelings don’t lie.  My feelings are real.

Madness.

Her weight was too heavy for the ground to carry her. She fell swiftly like a caducous feather of a migrating bird…Like a yellow roaming leaf in a cold autumn that the wind has displaced…Like a shooting star that no longer belong to the blue space. She was lying on the ground like an unwatered rose. Red has became ten shades lighter. She died for ten minutes, not because she was suffering from cardiovascular disease, but because of twisted lies and disappointments. The kind that makes one takes a deep breath but then never releases it… The kind that makes his eyes pop out staring thoroughly at vacuum. When she woke up after a brief experience of decease, her eyes were a phlegethon, throwing sparks of anger and rage. They couldn’t kill her, but they did inject her with few doses of paranoia and it was very enough to take her on an endless melodramatic journey…
Her heartbeats were scampering like a child who saw a ghost. Her body was extricating big amounts of adrenaline. Fear and anger were her gasoline. Without them, she was going to be bound to a bitter reality; a reality of weakness and incapacity of revenge…
What is it with people that they can’t mind their businesses and live their lives without interfering with others affairs? They won’t calm down, until they give you an insignia of madness and make you one of them. They’ll live to watch you stare at them with idiocy and despair. And when they know that their sins cannot be purified, they make you a sinner like them. Such a bizarre world we live in…
The story of that girl didn’t end well. The antagonists were not leading the story to a stream of positivity and happiness. They were leading everyone, including themselves to disaster and destruction…

Thoughts.

Thoughts: thoughts are like a garrulous friend; a one you can’t bare its never-ending-senseless-conversations… A trivial discussions about closed cases and overlapping topics like the curls of your hair that haven’t been brushed for two days… A scattered words and grammatically mistaken expressions, which annoy your brain… Irritating questions and aggravating reminders that make you want to itch your skin. That’s how thoughts are like… They harass you and hunt you down every time you put your head on a pillow, trying to rest. And just when you attempt to shut them up, the intensity of commonplace ideas flow rises like hot lava in an erupted volcano. They push you to over think and over react to uncomplicated situations.
Thoughts: a word which itself makes you think and rethink about anything that occurs to your mind. Thoughts are an enemy who knows your spots of weakness and can make you break down, like a crashed computer with a damaged motherboard… A director with a competent staff and an excellent action movie scenario… A noisy class full of rowdydowdy students with a teacher who can’t control them…  A heavy rain that makes you wet and cold in a day when you forgot for the first time your umbrella….
Most of the time, thoughts are not the kind of thoughts you would want to think about. But, sometimes they could be interesting and accurate. And if the negativity is replaced with positivity, the sun will be brighter, the sky will be lighter and your life will be better; meaning: even though we’re dominated by our thoughts, we can still reverse the spell and control what we think about in a way that will bring eagerness to our daily lives.

My condolences…

My sincerest condolences to you… to the person I used to hold in high esteem. You’ve lost one of the most precious gifts; the ability to love. Today is the day when we’re all in black and all the eyes behind the dark sunglasses are looking down, when even the crows are shedding tears for your loss.  Just like in movies… I’ll put some lilies on your tomb and pray that you rest in peace among the soil’s bosom. It’s not as warm as your bed used to be, but you’ll get used to it…
This is your miracle: You’re dead and alive…
You’re alive; you can still inhale the air that poisoned your soul in that town of yours… It is so overcast that the ominous clouds perched on your heart…But you’re dead. You can’t feel anymore, you can’t even feel your own heartbeats… And what a terrible incident my dear! Few people were lucky enough to savor affection and still appreciate it even when it’s sour. And today, one of them is gone and forgotten. It’s so easy to hate, to hold a grudge towards someone, to despise even the oxygen he/she breaths. However, it’s so hard to love. It’s so arduous to still find reasons to love someone. Our world has to be pacific, has to be safe and sound for the next generations… Because wars not only destroy building facilities and factories, wars kill people. And that’s a commit of murder in the sake of justice. But what if justice thinks that war is the ultimate solution? well then our world is in serious danger. And that’s why the capacity to love and to forgive is as important as the greenhouse effect. They both impact the stability of our earth… They both can change so many things on a global scale.
And so, my condolences to every human being who lost the most powerful elixir that can cure almost everything; humanity, to every person who lost her/himself and can no longer be called a human. Because love is what keeps us alive, is what provide our bodies with energy and heat and love is what makes us humans.

How to write a spell.

It all started with a broom she rode under the inviting fluorescent moon fibers, which made her want to never land and overhead the fog that was hiding landscapes and wooden roofs. She wasn’t a witch neither a fairy. She was Alice in wonderland… The broom was taking her to a place not so far from where she came from. It was only following the map of her heart. And her heart belonged to where the memories of her childhood remained. Every time she went to that magical bosom place, she was spellbound…
It occurred to her many times to just drop the cards and the dices, because she wasn’t the type of a gamer: the type who can put his neck on the line and still think can win. She was the kind who believes in dream catchers and happy endings.  The scared little girl inside of her would never let her to taste a bit of peril. Her only escape was the place where the broom was taking her; an escape from nightmares and bad days.
Even though she wasn’t a witch, she could write a spell which enabled her to fly away. The spell was so easy that it only took her to close her eyes and fall into a deep peaceful sleep…