Curse Of The Syrian Shadows

I was on my way home. It was night.  I had just turned down hill off  Hamra Street in Beirut.  I saw a 50 odd year old man inappropriately touching a girl. She stood stiffly. Her fists clenched in front of her. She could have been 10, or maybe younger. Two women stood close by, in the shadows, silently watching the man and the girl.  They were both dressed in black. One of them looked like she could be the girl’s mother, and the other, an elder sister.  They were Syrian refugees. I had seen them before.

‘What are you doing?’ I challenged the man.

He was standing under a street light. He looked at me, went red in the face and ran off.

The women started shouting and swearing at me for the loss of their customer

The girl stood stiffly. Her fists clenched in front of her

END STORY

Read a related short  story to above: Shadows From Syria

My New Novel: Song of Gulzarina, Out Now

 

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