Hello everyone. I’d like to write in continue of my fanfiction“The great day “another fiction from Persian famous character Mullah Nasredin. He lived during the middle Ages (around 13th century. He was a populist philosopher and wise man. In China he is known as Afanti. One day, people saw Mullah out in the street searching frantically for something. The inquisitive nature of man was on work.” What are you searching for, Mullah”? They asked.
“I have lost my key”. replied Mullah.
The helping nature of mankind was at work. So everyone joined him, trying to help him. After some search someone had the argue to ask the place where exactly, the key was lost. So, that more condensed search could be made. So, the enquiry was made for the same to Mullah.
“I lost the key in the house”. Mullah replied
“What “Then why are you searching for it in the street?” was the obvious question asked to him.
Mullah tries to say that everyone is looking for the key. The key to happiness, the key to bliss, the key to freedom, the key to God, the key to peace or whatever one may like to term a phrase.

An undecided fate

(I apologize in advance for this being long and somewhat uneventful. I ended up writing more than I thought I would.) 

The sound of a gunshot echoed in his head, prompting him to a sudden awakening. His eyes sprang wide open, but a fierce brightness forced them shut once more. As he felt the light subsiding and his eyes adjusted, his surrounding gradually came into view; the confusion instilled in him only growing. He found himself standing amidst an immensely empty space; where on either side of him the room seemed to stretch out endlessly. Beneath him the ground was inexplicably soft against the hard feel of his leather shoes, and the ease with which he shifted from one foot to the other made him feel almost weightless.

  He looked around once more, perplexed, for he knew neither where he was nor how he had gotten to be here. In fact, as his thoughts trailed further in search of an answer, his mind cleared and with the abrupt realization that he had but a mere sense of who he was though no actual memories; an overwhelming sense of confusion and panic overcame him. Absent-mindedly he brought his hand to his heart, his fingers lingering on his chest, as though feeling for something that wasn’t there. Suddenly aware yet puzzled by the nature of his gesture, he stopped himself and glanced up; noticing for the first time the outline of two doorways as stark white as the walls they lined up against; camouflaged if not for the handle and hinges protruding.

 Hesitant but led by curiosity he slowly walked forward, a shaking hand reaching for one of the handles. The door slid open, revealing behind it an array of images, playing back like a film reel against the backdrop of the room. He stood by the doorway, bewildered by the sight, but more so by the familiarity of the faces and the events screening before him. It wasn’t until he saw her that everything came rushing back. That sunshine hair and careless attitude, and that voice, full of money he once called it. Only her name escaped his lips. “Daisy…” Daisy Fay, or Buchanan as she later became known. The name which had reverberated in his mind every night and day; the one for whom he had accomplished everything in his life. He reveled in the memories of their love fuelled by youthful exuberance and ignorance; but unable to withstand the pressures of social dichotomy. 

 His gaze, now hollow, drifted back to his life so mysteriously and vastly projected on such a magnified scale. With every scene depicting the choices he made and the path they led to, his mind filled with the sudden clarity that his life had been lie; a decades long scheme to win the one prize he had always longed for but which even until the end he would never claim – Daisy’s unconditional love. And as the motion picture of his existence neared conclusion, the conviction that his life’s purpose had been pillared on a false idea, on a mere an illusion of a corrupted memory was finally affirmed.

 Helplessly he watched the final act unfolding, the most heartbreaking and dramatic of them all, but more importantly the most defining moment, for it was then that he proved that his was an unrequited and undeserving love. He looked on without recognition at the discernible images playing above him; the fragments of events that he had not witnessed but which would nevertheless eventually affect his outcome. Though the figures onscreen were muted, he did not need to hear their voices for he already knew what words, accusations and false promises escaped their lips. This was after all a moment in his past.

 Daisy appeared onscreen at the wheel of his car, he by her side, driving back to East Egg from a luncheon, he recalled, that had turned into a confrontation with her husband Tom and his mistress Myrtle. Promptly and cruelly, the scene delayed, the sequence of events melded together now playing in slow motion. His heart thumped louder, the sense of dread overwhelming. Paralyzed he witnessed once again with horror Daisy’s carelessness; Myrtle’s distorted, limp body sprawled across the sandy road. Like the unwilling spectator that he was in that moment, he watched George, Myrtle’s husband, overtaken by an uncontrollable grief and vengeful rage racing towards him, gun in hand. It was Tom’s unscrupulous and wrongful denunciation that had led George to the man he believed responsible for Myrtle’ death – to him.

 But he had had enough. He stumbled backwards, no longer wanting to see and relive…. Relive his death, he realised. His mind blanked out, his thoughts came to a halt. Again his hand lifted to his chest; though this time he did it consciously, knowing that underneath the soft yellow fabric of his shirt, should be wounded flesh. He backed further away from the door, unable to comprehend what was happening to him; letting go of every notion he had of the world he lived in and the life he had. For hours, or so it seemed, he remained motionless; his eyes transfixed on emptiness for nothing around him seemed tangible. Finally he recomposed himself and his gaze darted back to the room, and then slowly drifted across to the closed door. Even more reluctantly and vigilantly than the first time, he approached the second door, and after of a minute of composure he turned the handle. Once more the room screened a compilation of seemingly real-life events, starring the same familiar faces but eventually new characters appeared onscreen. The longer he watched, the more he became aware that though it was him on display, this was not the life he had come to lead in the last few decades. Stranger still was that this version of himself aged on, his hair changing, from salt and pepper to entirely grey. And gradually, the veil of scepticism and utter bafflement lifted and a different reality set in.

 Both doors now lay open as only entrances to two brightly illuminated rooms for both reels had reached their last acts. Gatsby stood there, reflecting on the last moments of this surreal experience. Eventually he had come to grasp the nature of his presence here. From whatever realms, he was being handed the opportunity of starting over, of taking a path different than the one that had led him to this very moment. Yet his predicament could not be so easily resolved. He was to face the consequences of the decisions he did make, the life he did live out; in pursuit of a quest that was never worthy of his commitment and one that would end in betrayal. Or he could start over, embark on a possibly better and longer life, but one without his only constant; it was a life in which he and Daisy parted ways and never reencountered.

 But despite everything, he had loved her. Or at least he had spent so much time thinking of nothing but her, he could not imagine any other life. Yet he knew that their love was only as perpetual and epic as conceived in his delusions. “Two roads” he murmured to himself. But what do you do when neither of them lead you to your heart’s desire? And so he remained, unable to seal his fate. 

THE ORIGIN OF THE COCONUT TREE

The straight setting of the myth:
This is one of a well known myth that has been orally told from generation to generation in Samoa and may be most islands of the pacific, as they almost have the same belief of the past. Later on when missionaries arrived in the 1800, it was recorded and rewrote by several pacific people which ended up in different opinions and ideas. Some of them have told the myth incorrectly at the beginning eventhough it came to the same conclusion at the end. However, this is the correct and the straight setting of this interesting and short traditional story of the pacific.

My mother was a nice looking lady from the capital city of Samoa, Apia. I haven't seen my father as he was believed to be a demon. I had no idea why I lived in a small pool of water in my village not as a human being but as a very tiny eel, until later, I heard people talking about me and the reason why I lived there.

One day, Sina, a very charming lady, came with a bowl to get some water from the pool where I lived. As she drew some water, I clinged to the side of the bowl and jumped into it. I could easily tell that the girl was not scared of me by the way she talked to me eventhough she didn't recognise that I could hear every single word she uttered when returned home.

On her way home I just swam around, danced, laughed and gazed at her, without her knowing that I was madly in love with her.
"Hello my little friend, I love you so much." said Sina
"I love you so much as well, the beauty of Apia." I murmured from inside the bowl.
"Don't worry about anything my dear, I will take care of you at home and treat you as my lovely pet." uttered Sina.
"Oh Sina! You are so wonderful. What a beautiful lady you are. Don't you know that I am so crazy about you? Please treat me as your future hubby but not as a pet." I whispered silently from inside the bowl of water.

I started to grow bigger and bigger and I could not be fitted inside that bowl of water anymore. I could remember when I was a year and a half old, Sina and her parents decided to put me back into the same pool where I was found. Instead, Sina would visit me three times daily; morning, afternoon and evening. The plan sounded great for me as I would see my darling twenty-one times a week.

Three years later, things were not impeccable. I grew more faster and by the time I was fully grown, the village discovered about me. I laid sadly at the bottom of the pool, listened hopelessly to the plan and arrangements of how to kill me as they were all frightened and scared of my huge body.

When I saw Sina came to visit me for the last time, I felt pain in my heart, tears in my eyes, exhausted and weary because this would be the last time we met each other before I die. I knew how depressed she was when I called out my parting words.

"Sina, you are as beautiful as a flower in the morning. I can see you weeping because I know you love me. I can also see your whole smooth body as you are now standing at the top of the pool while I am staring at you from the bottom. With this broken heart of mine, how am I going to forget you my one and only? Sina, if you really love me, ask your village for my head only.
Plant me near a stone wall.
A tree will grow and thrive and bear fruits.
Single fruits and fruits in cluster.
Husk the fruit and you will see my face; my two little eyes and my beautiful mouth.
Pierce my mouth to drink that water inside the fruit.
Once you drink and sip it I promise I am giving you a real kiss of love."

Sina did everything as she was told by her wonderful pet. Not long after, a tree began to grow, in fulfillment of the eel's prophecy. The tree became known as a coconut tree and the coconut itself bears the image of the eel's face.

Believe it or not? Comments please.
That's all from me, have a nice day.

My great day.

I was very badly sick for the past tw0 days and there was no one to give me one glass of water!I came back home on Friday, lied down on my bed with two blanket on me. After one hour, I felt like I can't breathe well, my face is too hot, I said myself, you have no choice and you have to walk to Pharmacy ,buy medicine. Oh, My God! that was the worst part. I could hardly walk Anyway I got sick by one of these forigner virus .Poor my body :( She has to recongnize all these foreing creatures. I'd tempreture around 39C which means it was pretty high and I was in Danger! I called my brother. He said better call to 111. I thanked him .But I preffer to use home remedies first, 5 minutes later I was half naked sitting in bathroom trying to do Pashooye( to give 'a patent' a foot bath) my self, Sorry there is English word for it.Just imagine the scene, half naked old man sitting in the full of water tub, drinking water and peeing at the same time. God! I just love what you 'd created. A direct straight tube from my mouth to my bladder, I love your tactfulness God!You know when you have tempreture you can't sleep well. That night I didn't lock the door, not to help myself to have a better sleeping but to give other people this chance to help me if I passed out suddenly !that wasn't the only problem, I lost my appetite. I can't eat food although I'm very hungry.I felt I was walking in Target to get y medicine, passing through the aile full of food, I really couldn’t look at them, I felt to vomit it up!Finally at 3.am I was successful and I vomited up by the helf of a half plum!You know how difficult it is to cook for yourself when you are sick, taking care of yourself, buying medicine, doing grocery shopping... while you can't even walk.I really admire all other the world. The yare such a patient caring creatures that can't do anything but being nice and helpful wherever you need them:)These are just great.Conclusion,never get sick when you are in foreign language at if it happened use half a plum, sickness soup, not any heavy Iranian food . To be continue

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