Excerpts from this thriller - The Belligerent Art.
CHAPTER 9
The Gambit
'Ammar tangled up the fur sheet on the bed as he lay tossing and turning. The bed in the corner of the room was the only furniture apart from a sturdy settee, which once was a makeshift bed. Down on the floor were rubbishy newspapers and magazines containing almost nothing except crimes, sports, scandals, suicidal love affairs, sensational novelettes, Thrillers, Mysteries, treacle films, spoofs and sentimental songs. Even with these rococo of taste, Ammar was not happy. He was getting worried day into night. He became bleary eyed from lack of sleep. On impulse, he perched on the edge of the bed.
"Why they are dodging me?" he screamed.
Ammar had spent a month or two skulking in and out of the Federal Ministry of Environment pressuring senior government functionaries to take the issue of environment seriously, but to no avail. He penciled words to the Minister and dropped it at a pigeon pond since the person at that high place was as accessible as Delphic oracle.
"Why I wrote letters three times but the Minister didn't respond any. Does this mean my report was given the thumbs down and all the warning went unheeded? Those people pay lib service to their responsibility. I will shake them. I will wait. No," on second thoughts, "I will do it now. There is no time like present. And doing this or that, is otiose," he mumbled.
Ammar had no wish to start a fight however small. This was not best moment to fight; he was totally unprepared. A passion for cockfighting had ruined many men and someone in the ministry had warned him about his career. And if there was anything that could ruin his career, he do play it carefully.
He stared at the thick mass of darkeness in front him. And after a moment of thoughtful silence, he guided his hand onto a button on the flash light and a yellowish-brown light leaped to life. The cloud was fast approaching. He bet the electric current would soon go off. The moment he spoke, the light went off and plunged him in darkness. Ammar began stumbling and groping around in the dark for a candle. He struck a match and a fire flared into life. Red and yellow flames spurted like a magic candle. He transported the candle to antique mahogany furniture set. Unprotected flame danced to the rhythm of the air frisking across the room. The candle would soon blow out if he didn't take a step to prevent it. He rushed out closing all the windows, shutters and doors. He returned to the chair placed against the alcove, which once a bookshelf.
The candlelight in front of him brightened as the darkness thickened and became a center of gravity of all giant insects. A swarm came at him from all sides - alighted and buzzed. He hacked at the huge mass of papers in front of him with a golden pen glue to his spidery fingers. He tore three leaves out and placed them somewhat absentmindedly on the desk and for some time sat gazing stupidly at the paper like one laboring under a writer's block.
Melted candle was dribbled down while black acrid smoke rose out of it. It was suffocating. He gasped for air, retching and his head ringing.
"Let the tears flow, let me howl in anguish and rage and let me act," Ammar was screaming and quailing with his head bobbling up and down.'
"The Belligerent Art" explores the complexities of justice, the price of truth, the power of love, and the resilience of human spirits amidst adversity. Loyalty are tested, alliances forged, and secret revealed. The novel delves into the limits of morality and the sacrifice made to protect one's owner.
Through its use of symbolism and detailed character studies, the novel offers thrilling narrative making it enjoyable for fans of this genre.
I hope you find the novel engaging and thought-provoking. I'm looking forward to your feedback.
Warm regards,
Bashir Ibrahim
The Gambit
'Ammar tangled up the fur sheet on the bed as he lay tossing and turning. The bed in the corner of the room was the only furniture apart from a sturdy settee, which once was a makeshift bed. Down on the floor were rubbishy newspapers and magazines containing almost nothing except crimes, sports, scandals, suicidal love affairs, sensational novelettes, Thrillers, Mysteries, treacle films, spoofs and sentimental songs. Even with these rococo of taste, Ammar was not happy. He was getting worried day into night. He became bleary eyed from lack of sleep. On impulse, he perched on the edge of the bed.
"Why they are dodging me?" he screamed.
Ammar had spent a month or two skulking in and out of the Federal Ministry of Environment pressuring senior government functionaries to take the issue of environment seriously, but to no avail. He penciled words to the Minister and dropped it at a pigeon pond since the person at that high place was as accessible as Delphic oracle.
"Why I wrote letters three times but the Minister didn't respond any. Does this mean my report was given the thumbs down and all the warning went unheeded? Those people pay lib service to their responsibility. I will shake them. I will wait. No," on second thoughts, "I will do it now. There is no time like present. And doing this or that, is otiose," he mumbled.
Ammar had no wish to start a fight however small. This was not best moment to fight; he was totally unprepared. A passion for cockfighting had ruined many men and someone in the ministry had warned him about his career. And if there was anything that could ruin his career, he do play it carefully.
He stared at the thick mass of darkeness in front him. And after a moment of thoughtful silence, he guided his hand onto a button on the flash light and a yellowish-brown light leaped to life. The cloud was fast approaching. He bet the electric current would soon go off. The moment he spoke, the light went off and plunged him in darkness. Ammar began stumbling and groping around in the dark for a candle. He struck a match and a fire flared into life. Red and yellow flames spurted like a magic candle. He transported the candle to antique mahogany furniture set. Unprotected flame danced to the rhythm of the air frisking across the room. The candle would soon blow out if he didn't take a step to prevent it. He rushed out closing all the windows, shutters and doors. He returned to the chair placed against the alcove, which once a bookshelf.
The candlelight in front of him brightened as the darkness thickened and became a center of gravity of all giant insects. A swarm came at him from all sides - alighted and buzzed. He hacked at the huge mass of papers in front of him with a golden pen glue to his spidery fingers. He tore three leaves out and placed them somewhat absentmindedly on the desk and for some time sat gazing stupidly at the paper like one laboring under a writer's block.
Melted candle was dribbled down while black acrid smoke rose out of it. It was suffocating. He gasped for air, retching and his head ringing.
"Let the tears flow, let me howl in anguish and rage and let me act," Ammar was screaming and quailing with his head bobbling up and down.'
"The Belligerent Art" explores the complexities of justice, the price of truth, the power of love, and the resilience of human spirits amidst adversity. Loyalty are tested, alliances forged, and secret revealed. The novel delves into the limits of morality and the sacrifice made to protect one's owner.
Through its use of symbolism and detailed character studies, the novel offers thrilling narrative making it enjoyable for fans of this genre.
I hope you find the novel engaging and thought-provoking. I'm looking forward to your feedback.
Warm regards,
Bashir Ibrahim
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