Mud Ghecko

Moonlight across the dunes. Gentle, ululating expanses of sand.  This is the scrub desert surrounding El Thebsi and there is a soft breeze in the air and the muffled sound of hooves in this sand. A lone horseman accompanied by a lithe desert Saluki gallops towards the vast red fortress on the horizon. He is smiling in the moonlight beneath his shawl, and the dog is frisking with joy since this is their home and they have been away for months and they long to be back home. The horse is most eager too, because of its exhaustion - it has travelled uncounted miles The horseman shouts. The fortress does not reply. The dog begins to curve around and whimper, dashing erratically back and forth in anxiety. The horseman, Carlos Romero DeLa Nostra y Carreras - he wheels his horse around the dog and urges it on, suddenly uneasy at the atmosphere that exudes from his home.  "What has happened? Where is everyone?" Carreras choked into his face covering, his joy changed in the flicker of a...

The Mad Witches of Modera In a modern Colombo suburb, three long-suffering housewives decide to punish and reform their errant men using black magic, a daring plot that has unpredictable results. CHAPTER ONE Resting Witch Phase Really-what kind of man can cut off his dead lover's head?  It's not easy. You need muscle. Your arm aches for days afterwards. The spinal column in an adult female can not be easy to sever. I wish I could find out from that girl, what she saw in him. What do we see in any of our abusive South Asian men? That is what I was thinking while I ran to meet my writing deadline at the Weekend Financial Review. I had an idea about this because I had once cut off a dogs head. When it was dead of course. It took some time. That is an old story.  Once upon a time in Colombo there were three forty-plus women who were friends.  One was an actress, let's call her Bibi, one was a journalist, that's me and the third was a s...

Tintin in Tibet? at last! a cure for importance! the dreaded chocoriano© fever … KUSUMAWATHIE RETURNS COSMIC TRANCE Wellampitiya Revisited by popular request....The add that got me 79 calls a day... The concise "Lonely-Planet-like" guide to... Why we call Ginger Nuts, Mantal Oops I did it again, again… Rain,Rain... Where have all the beggars gone? Domestic Bliss- the Kusumawathie Files Perils of travelling without an ID in Colombo https://aljuharawrites.blogspot.com/2007/ MY BITTER NOVEMBER SIMBA's STORY Modera's Baby Twisting Nightmare Another Day in Paradise a one in a million publication… If I wus President for a day...ok, make it a year on "Provoked" the Immoral of it all El Caballo Negro* of antacids and Destiny Little Peacock Dancer My Top Seven Horrors of Modern Living Chatty heads for Ampara Shores of Another Sea Shores of Another Sea Part Two https://aljuharawrites.blogspot.com/2008/ 24 USES FOR NEWSPRINT ON A BORING SUNDAY AFTERNOON How to make a c...

PROPHESY Time stood still, three centuries away in silent jungle glade in Northern Xhindavia and a gutted white war horse thrashed in dying agony and the Princess Aria gasped for breath and turned to look into the eyes of her killer.  Here as she looked death in the face, instead of the world around her paling in comparison, suddenly it throbbed in more vivid lustful waves, in tune with her thumping heart. The sky seemed impossibly blue, her dying horse was a screaming pattern of crimson on white and around her the jungle bulged and thrummed in a thousand shades of emerald. The air around her was thick with sweet fruity smells almost too rich to bear mixing to an evil cocktail with the smell of fresh blood. She was pinned under this beast, he seemed to weigh at least three logs and his breath was hot and alcoholic against her throat. He had ridden her horse to exhaustion, over stones and through brambles, for miles without giving in,  killed it with two vicious arcs of his greatblade a...

Horrible Histories: The Sinful Sinhala Their name means "People of the Lion" because their race began with an Indian princess who mated with a lion   (dont try this at home! ) ,- they have been around for more than 3000 years and they have history books to prove it ! ..the Sinful Sinhala had a long series of Kings who became king by killing the one before them, usually their dads, and since this was bad and sinful according to Buddhism, they made really  big  Buddhist temples to say they were sorry and reverse the sin. They led ancient irrigation and architecture, built beautiful fortresses and brought torture to a fine art in the region. Discover the sinful details of their savage armies, colorful gods, scary demons, somewhat small elephants and  (of course!) their big big old temples. Find out how one king plucked his step brothers eyes out, and another one had his dad cemented into a wall, and discover the truth about naughty Queen  Anula who had thirty husbands poisoned j...

Love. Pain. Life.Hope- sometimes you need a bit of encouragement to go on. When I return to Ceylon, no matter how old I get there is one place I must see. And no it is not an endangered archaeological site or a famous land mark, since they are around and will be taken care of by the authorities and I do not need to check on them. But from time to time I visit an ordinary temple in a modern suburb, the sort of place you don't need to write home about, peaceful incense tinged, floor tiled sort of edifice with multitudes of Araliya trees and Jasmine bushes and the usual stray cats and dogs wondering contentedly around, where stands a particular stone door guard who captured my heart a long time ago..   I come to see a statue, a oversized cream coloured sentinel who guards the temple doors fixed eternally in standard pose, dressed in fifth century Indian ornaments , with his long hair tied up in ancient head gear. He has sightless eyes which look nevertheless deep into your thoughts an...