2412. Precious scimitar|
© Bruce Goodman 29 April 2022
Tareq had a scimitar hanging on the wall of his living room. Although it was a real scimitar, curved blade and all, he regarded it more as an ornament than a weapon. It wasn’t exactly encrusted with diamonds but there were semi-precious stones and bits of coloured glass on the handle. The blade was made of steel, so the scimitar could be used if need be.
He’d bought it years earlier at a Moroccan market. He had simply taken his young son to the market to buy some sausages and there was the scimitar in a stall at the bazaar. His son pleaded with him to get the thing. It was rather attractive. It was only a few dollars, so why not? He was, however, utterly convinced that his wife would not be too pleased. In fact, there wasn’t much these days that she was pleased with, so an extra scimitar thrown in for luck wasn’t going to ruin the picnic.
Needless to say, when he hammered a couple of nails into the living room wall just above the couch and hung the scimitar his wife was not at all delighted. She went on and on about it. On and on. Like a headless chicken.
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