Throwing Sparks (Developing History)
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When an opulent palace is built on the Jeddah waterfront near his poverty-stricken neighborhood, ambitious Tariq sees a way out of his life of petty crime. He stares longingly at the huge gates, dreaming of the luxuries beyond.
But dream quickly turns into nightmare. The Palace is ruled by an enigmatic Master whose influence in the city is as wide as it is wicked. When Tariq succeeds in being appointed to serve the Master it becomes clear that he has been chosen for a single, terrible task.
Thirty years later, Tariq feels trapped. In between punishing the Master’s enemies through unspeakable acts, falling for Maram, the Master’s beautiful mistress, and resisting his brother’s pleas to return home, he realises that he has become no more than a slave--and that there is only one way out.
waste and only a few bare light bulbs still burned. I bounded up the stairs, having armed myself with a metal rod I had picked up from the rubble in the courtyard. Her room was in the same abject state I had left it. I advanced cautiously, tiptoeing between the heaps of detritus, on high alert for a surprise attack. I shoved aside the mounds of rubbish in search of her. I looked carefully but could find no trace of her or her carcass. I combed the entire house: all the rooms, the bathrooms,
Osama followed me into the Palace and it was there that our hatred blossomed. I had decided to break with my past when I moved to the Palace. I wanted to put everything behind me, first and foremost, Tahani’s blood on my conscience. I had managed to forget about her until Osama showed up at the Palace three years after that fateful night. He had apparently spent the entire time searching for Tahani and the young man she loved. His aunt, Tahani’s mother, had promised her daughter in marriage
every once in a while he peered over his glasses to check on Issa. The young girl kept up her steady stream of smiles and also watched him. When she was restless, she would get up and go over to her brothers’ game or look at the trees and flowering shrubs outside, planted to create a hanging garden effect from all viewpoints. Occasionally the girl would ask her father about the flowers and what they were called. She also stepped out to take a walk along the jetty, accompanied by her chaperone.
my embrace when we were finally alone again. I buried my head into her neck, inhaling her fragrance, and started to kiss her. Moving up to the top of her head, I planted my lips on her eyebrows and began kissing her eyes. She moaned and I took her into my arms. ‘I’ve never known such tenderness my whole life,’ she confided. Putting her arms about my neck, she looked deep into my eyes and asked, ‘Would you like to hear my story?’ ‘Yes.’ I pulled her head in close and ran my fingers through her
their heads, Issa snapped. He began shouting and cursing everyone at the hospital and got into such a hysterical state that two psychiatrists intervened and volunteered to go with him, as well as the director of the hospital, and break the news to the Master of his mother’s disappearance. Just as they were about to leave, Issa spotted her wheelchair. It was right where he had left it. Aunt Shahla was hidden from view by an old man, a patient, who was stooped over her figure, trying to settle