Free Shadow on the Wall: Superhero | Magical Realism Novels (The SandStorm Chronicles | Magical Realism Books Book 1) by P.K. Tyler Page A

Could no one recognize him anymore? Sand had hardened his hands and the sun had leathered his skin, but the green of his eyes and hue of his beard were enough for anyone to know it was him. Darya weaved her way through the crowd until she disappeared out of his line of sight.
    Recai approached the bar and ordered a bourbon from an aging bartender. He watched as the guards shifted closer to his position and the guests eyed him with speculation. In the end, everyone left him alone. No one knew what to say to a ghost.
    Drink in hand, Recai leaned against the bar, allowing the dulcet tones of the acoustic guitar to calm his nerves. He rubbed his eyes before taking a sip, allowing the spicy liquor to burn his mouth and throat.
     

     
    "Effendi, sit here." A young woman working as a waitress for the evening called respectfully to the old bartender, when he stepped into the back room. The term of endearment was not lost on him and he smiled in response. He rubbed his hands and reminded her so much of her aging mother that she couldn't help but make the spontaneous offer.
    The waitress wore a long black skirt and a tightly fitted white blouse. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and hung loose down her back. Hijabs were not allowed at the mayor's celebration. Despite initially looking forward to being without it, she found herself feeling exposed and cold. Her ears were uncomfortable from the touch of the breeze.
    "Maryam, you are kind to an old man," he said as he lowered himself heavily onto the backless stool.
    "Eh, the unkindness of the world far outweighs one offered seat."
    "Yes it does my dear, yes it does."
    The old man flexed his aching fingers, stretching the scar tissue across his bones.
    "Besides," Maryam stretched and yawned without covering her mouth. "I'll never get up if left to my own desires. I could sit and let the night's work fade away, leaving the ‘yes ma'ams' and ‘of course sirs' to the others."
    She mimicked the voices of the other waitresses as she spoke, making the old man reveal the first honest smile he may have made in years.
    "Just keep your hands where the women can see them and your other assets where the men cannot, and the night will be over before you know it," he remarked.
    "Effendi, why are you working here?" Maryam asked, ignoring rules of courtesy and custom to assuage her curiosity. "Don't you have children to work while you sit at home in the evenings?"
    Maryam thought of her own mother, who lived in Ibradi with her sister. She worked in the city, sending her family what money she could. During the day Maryam was a nurse, but that made just enough money to cover her expenses. Extra work like waitressing was for her family. Someday she would marry and be able to bring her mother to live with her. Perhaps she would have a large house in the north of the city with a gate and rooms ready to be filled with children.
    "I have no one. I am just a lonely old man taking kindness from a beautiful girl. Now get back to work before anyone notices how long you've been gone."
    "You'll keep my secret won't you? I wouldn't want the devils out there to think I wasn't being respectful," she winked conspiratorially.
    "If you'll keep mine."
    The old man held up his hands to display the swollen knuckles that betrayed his age.
    As Maryam returned to the party, the sounds of popular music wafted through the open door, assaulting the old man's ears. He sat lost in his thoughts of another young woman who had once fretted about his age.
     

     
    "Recai! There you are!" Darya exclaimed as she approached the low stool he had deposited himself on.
    The entire party was aflame discussing the interloper, but no one asked him directly, no one would cross the line to say, "Are you the one? Have you returned?" Darya was full of excitement wanting to introduce the mysterious man to her benefactor. She was sure the Recai Osman she had spent the evening with was the son of Baris and Pinar. His death had