Art of vanishing Short Story
by Dr. Na'eem Attia

He taught his students the art of acting , stressing the importance of identifying with the character they play while on the stage. He died in the hospital and doubts prevailed, as his students went to the hospital to figure out what is going on. They checked the body, however, it was not his.
Maybe it is a body of some one else who died the same hour, the same day and was removed to Beni Sweif, his home town, to be buried over there.

They contacted the security director who instructed check points to stop the car carrying the body. Thanks God, they recognized that such body is not of the professor, as they informed the officials to pursue their research and to uncover such puzzle. Doubts prevailed and investigation were conducted once again by security authorities. This, however, was taking place at the time his students were waiting in the campus of Art Academy for any cue to water down their anxiety.

A great teacher who had recognition was known as a mix of old traditions and new trends at the same time. For instance, he was, to a great extent, interested in Pharaonic religious theatre, meanwhile, he was concerned much about inserting the performance of acting in the arts of both photographing and carving. He used to ask what is acting? His answer was "while acting we should do it for ourselves to satisfy something in our souls to avoid getting exploded, as we are the actor, actress, prompter, viewer, author and the stage itself."

Till 4 o'clock p.m. the issue seemed as an indecipherable puzzle, some people said he has not normally died but he had perpetrated a suicide, the kind of death that matches with a great actor like him. On the other hand, some negated that he did something of that sort, as he never gave up or surrender along his life.

Where did he go? Where did he hide? What does he want? ... Several questions were raised by his staunched students who were about to destroy the place but they remembered his advice to keep patient, have the ability to behave in good manner and to try to understand things around. Not to mention, they remembered his innocent smile while lecturing them, saying do not hasten to understand. The curtain, however, has not been drew down yet, complicated questions still undecodable. The president of the academy sent the chairman of the association of actors along with guard chief to report in the police station and to inform the prosecution of the disappearance of master of actors.

Before dawn, students wondered whether the great teacher has vanished in a specific character, which character is it and on which stage his body has vanished? They heard him saying while in a lecture "Even if one performed a role of an animal, a plant or a bird one should vanish in such entity and absorb the dimensions of that entity. As actor will never succeed only with make up or clothes but he will do it via assimilating the role he acts. It is worthy of mentioning that he, many times, had played the roles of cats, birds and fish on his days at the school theatre.

Once, when he was skinny guy, he played the role of tree branch that wavers with breezy wind, he managed also to play the role of Roman column, as he stood in compete science. One of his students said "No one can believe me if I mentioned that one time the great actor played the role of grain of wheat, as he managed through pantomime to depict the fear of being picked by a bird."

"Even the dead body he managed to incarnate it while in the land or resting on a chair", another student said. His favorite role to be played is that abounding in secrets so he preferred to play the role of the foreteller rather playing the role of kings.

His students carried candles and went in a peace march waiting for him, some of them said let us go to the National Theatre may be he will appear over there and the others said that he will not appear on any of the state-run theatres, while the rest proposed that he will show up on the comic theatre. Any way, rains extinguished lights of the candles, as we went in toddling steps. While frustration was about to be spread, we have heard faint voice coming from behind trying to reach our march, saying the professor appeared in Upper Egypt. No one knew what took him there, as the funeral will be seen off tomorrow. We do not whether his body was sent to another family by mistake or it is such a story to sedate our troubled spirits. Is it curtains?

The Seventh Day Poem
by Farouq Shoosha
In memory of October war

The seventh day came
And the banner in the hands of the valiant heroes
Is glittering in the face of the world.
And fluttering ever in pride
Over the hill in Sinai.
The seventh day came
The tinged good earth raised
Roses watered by the heroes' blood
And the yearning of men longing for the day of vengeance
They come like the sweeping torrent, like the earthquake
Carried by the tide of stormy craving,
Getting them near the blaze of the usurped land
The flaming yearning repases
The hands embrace the face of the returning beloved
The face of the absent homeland behind the dark days
The courgeous heroes crossed
We crossed the wall of fear
We crossed the face of dark days
We crossed the barrier of humiliation laying heavily on the people's
All heads and all necks rose high
Lofty in countenance .. and features,
Receiving the light coming from Sinai
Made by the promised banners of that day
Receiving the dawn coming from Sinai
Made by the mobilized processions of that march
Receiving the news coming from Sinai
Made by the memorable features of that victory
Receiving the voice coming from Sinai
Arise, pay attention..
Your sons, the heroes, the valiant
Make another face for history, for man.
Your sons, the heroes, the valiant,
Gave the highest example in the heart of the battlefield.