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My new book Serena and the Moor's Last Sigh is out now!
Friday, April 20, 2007 12:54:00 AM
by Shirley A Elmokadem
| Children |
''Serena and The Moor''s Last Sigh''
a book for children ages 6-11 is out now! It cab be bought on Amazon or from the publisher Arima Publishing. |
In this book Serena and her family move from the UK to Spain. Serena befriends a young Moroccan boy, Ismael. They find an ancient scroll in a cave, which leads them to an underground dungeon where they meet the ghost of the last Moor, Boabdil.He cannot rest until he sees Granada one last time.They have to help him to do this.
Excerpt;
Serena followed Ismael back down the hill and then they were climbing up a steep incline. The sun was directly overhead and Serena felt sticky with the heat. She paused to catch her breath. The view was awesome. Perched on one of the hills was a village of white houses clustered round a tall church spire. Beyond them the sea sparkled in the distance.
“The castle, it is here!” Ismael was waving to her.
Serena ran towards him.
He was standing on a spur of the hill next to a crumbling stone wall. Serena surveyed the reddish-brown stones excitedly.
“Wow!” she said. “Just think, these were a castle once!” Suddenly, she had a picture in her mind of soldiers moving on the ramparts, their swords glinting in the sunlight as they searched the hills beneath them for their enemies.
“I cannot see a door,” Ismael interrupted her thoughts.
“I’ll have a look,” Serena began to walk around the ruins. All at once she tripped and fell.
“Are you OK?” Ismael ran over to her.
Serena sat up and rubbed her knee. “Yeah, I just grazed my knee. I tripped over something,” she said looking down at a grey flagstone poking up from the ground. Something in the centre of the stone glinting in the sunlight caught Serena’s eye. It was a brass lock. “I think it’s the door!” she cried.
She took the key from her pocket and fitted it in the lock. As she turned it there was a loud clicking sound. The stone loosened and Serena was able to pull the door open. A strong spicy smell of incense wafted out. Serena lay on her stomach and peered in. Although the door led under the ground there was light and she could see a rough stone staircase leading downwards.
“I can see stairs!” she exclaimed and she started to scramble through the opening.
“Where are you going?” Ismael looked apprehensive.
“Down the stairs of course. Come on.”
He shook his head vehemently. “I am not sure.”
“Come on we have to see what’s down there,” Serena said. She glanced at the open door. “There’s no lock this side. Put a stone by the door to keep it open, we don’t want to get shut in.”
Ismael propped the door open with a large red stone and reluctantly followed Serena down the steps. Here, the air became cooler and fresher and there was the soft murmur of running water. When they reached the bottom they stood and gazed around them. Their eyes widened in disbelief.
They were standing in a courtyard paved in white marble. Immediately in front of them was a long green pool flanked with low green hedges. Water gurgled upwards from a round stone fountain in its centre.
On each side of the courtyard were delicately carved wooden arches. They were supported by a forest-like collection of slender white marble columns. The walls behind glittered with gold and blue tiles that were decorated with strange patterns and lettering. Alabaster lamps hung at intervals from an intricately carved wooden ceiling. In one corner of the courtyard stood a brass incense burner. Every now and then it puffed out tiny clouds of white aromatic smoke.
“It is beautiful,” gasped Ismael.
Serena nodded her head in agreement. “It’s like the inside of a fairy castle”, she whispered in awe.
Just then there came a strange moaning sound beside them.
“Look!” Serena pointed to a ghostly white mist in one of the recessed alcoves. The noise was coming from inside it. They looked at each other fearfully, wondering what was going to happen next. As the mist began to clear Serena caught her breath. She could see a man lying on a blue velvet chaise longue. He wore a golden brocade cloak draped over a crimson tunic and trousers. On his feet were red shiny boots. A white turban was coiled tightly around his head and fixed at the front with a sparkling emerald. He had a dark complexion with black bushy eyebrows and a greyish-black curly beard, which reached down to his chest.
Serena gasped as her eyes fell on the jewelled hilt of a dagger hanging from a wide belt around his waist. Leaning his head upon a pile of silken red cushions he gazed sadly at them.
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