That Special Touch (Novel)

That Special Touch (Novel)

Fayad Ali

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THAT SPECIAL TOUCH is the eight ‘novel’ written by Dr Fayad W. Ali

Reuben, embittered by the conditions and the hypocrisy of those under whom he lived, decides to face the world on his lonely own. As a young and inexperienced person, one not given to too much of self-examination and introspection, the talented Reuben is met by a hospitable young lady and offered a golden opportunity. Reuben, though, failed to see the cunning and duplicity of those whom he encountered. The real and the imaginary became mingled and intertwined so much that he could hardly decipher the good from the iniquitous. Caught in a deadly snare, Reuben is shocked into disbelief. Seeing his dreams crumble before his eyes, the young man plunges into a chasm of despair. The escape from the stranglehold emerges from an unexpected source, by an even more unexpected route, and all along making him realise that ‘the path of true love never did run smooth’. The novel serves to captivate and thrill, to anger and delight throughout from the enthralling beginning to its unpredictable end.
***
…“You’re a fine lad, Reuben. Your Pappy would have been a proud man today to see how you are, good-looking, strong, don’t fear the Devil, and most of all respectful.”
The old gardener looked sadly at the clock when he placed it in the hands of Reuben. Then, as he was about to walk away he touched Reuben’s shoulder.
“I can’t bear to think how long she was standing in that there cottage just for the missus and me and the occasional visitor, young ‘un. She was mighty good-looking in the early. She stood for years and years from Granpappy to Pappy and then me, young ’un. I polished her oaken body with Gilboy’s every month till she shone like them crystal glasses in the McClintock mansion, I tell you truly, my boy. This old man ain’t got the gumption for lies. I still got me a new Gilboy’s jar in the cottage, Reuben.”
The old man squeezed Reuben’s shoulders as he spoke.
“She stood nearly forever, ticking her arms along at the right timing. Nobody had time to talk to her and nobody gave her too much of attention, Reuben. The missus and I, we would just take a glimpse of her to know the time, and then we would walk away on our own business. But still, this clock never got angry or cried out loud because of her loneliness. Not once, Reuben, never, she worked those arms even if no one was looking.”
Old Ned caressed Reuben’s shoulder as he spoke.
“She was never scared, young Reuben, not her. She stood alone in the night while everybody else went to sleep, the dogs and the birds and the people and the beetles and she chimed the witching hour, without fear. And, Reuben me boy, when it rained and it was cold, she still stood there mighty and strong, ticking her arms and chiming at the right spots. She smelled different every day, young Reuben. It depended on whether it rained. She smelled like wild flowers when it was a dry day, and like the sea when it was wet and rainy.”
Old Ned wiped a tear as he spoke…



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