Promote You Book For FREE

1) never promote you book where everyone is promoting for example Facebook promoting pages

 

2) find the groups where are only reader no promoters and don't show readers that you're there to promote your book only. Play with reader.

 
3) when you are promoting your book on some page don't just send a link because nobody open links no days and people tend to ignore the promotion link 

 

4) when you're promoting your book to readers instead of asking them to read your book, Go to a group where you post status and ask some random question to get reader's attention for example; ask questions like " what kind of book you like? and wait for them to respond to your question and make sure when someone respond to your question be quick to talk to them. When a reader tells you what kind of book he/she like only then ask them " do you want to read my book? Or would you like to read my book since I want your hones reviews and thoughts about it" and when he says he will look into it give them your book name by writing for example my book is Misery and Anger and then write I'll attach a screen shot for you so you can find it easily. That's how you attract readers



5) make sure you join every Facebook reader group and repeat same thing

6) check my book here : https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08DJBN2ZB

Another day in Rabat

 Another day in Rabat, I know well what it means to live in a city like this, the smell of urine and betrayal comes from its long wall, stinky smell that a city that was forced to be called Rabat is not worthy of! The sissy traitors spreading corruption all over it, sitting in desks and bars and drinking each other's blood, and exchanging dumb smiles and threats.

  Beetles are walking in its streets without a destination, nobody cares for them! Those fleas that are stuck in the back of their pants.

  The atrocious thing is a girl wearing her dream dress walking with a childish joy so as the world sees her beautiful dress … the good thing here is a bunch of men with mustaches sitting in a café and looking at that little piece of flesh showing from the breast of the girl wearing the dress, complaining and cursing her father in secret.

   Many think that it's a dream city, city of prosperity and richness, that's right, but just in a small part of it, the part where the sultan and his citizen, but the rest and their citizens are in the sewers.

Morning Cigarette

 

Six o’clock in damned time, nothing till now shows that today will different than the others, the sun will throw the quilt aside and will rise on us soon, Khawla too will throw her pajamas aside and where that tight yellow pants that the café goers like,  and the white shirt from which two stunning nipples overlook making the goers’ mouths water, Rid is one week away and must seek any mean to earn their pockets, peacock galt at a time, and Fifi Abdo’s laugh at other times, winking, whispering and trickery …

Let’s leave Khwala aside and wake up Ziad, he wasn't asleep anyway just his mind was numb, he can't think of anything now but his morning cigarette, for even if he was smoking all night long the 7 am cigarette is always a must, it helps him face what had last of the day before it he takes a sniff of a snus/snuff made in Fez to surprise the lazily asleep cells inside of his skull, a piece of a plain loaf and a cup of tea without sugar then jogs to the café to be the first one Khawla with flirt with, just then he can smoke his precious cigarette. Khawla’s mood today is bad because her luck pants had been torn apart in a spot that can't be fixed, so she just her pale black pants that make her butt look like five liters of Harira soup in a plastic bag, she took a glimpse of Ziad from far away, asked forgiveness from Allah then spat: a face I needn't see, fuck! He passed by her without greeting her, normally he doesn't talk till after he smokes his blessed cigarette, he took his spot in a corner that allows him to watch everyone, especially Khawla’s butt, she had made his coffee without asking for it, she spat in it and presented it to him without smiling, he knew well that she spits in his coffee every day but he drinks it in front of her on purpose to disgust her.

What the hell happened to me? What sort of a miserable life that I always keep on choosing for my poor personalities, what kind of unfairness and despicable behavior is this?  I seek refuge with Allah from the accursed Satan

Khawla

 In the queue, Khawla proudly stands as an ostrich that came to life after an illegal relationship between an arrogant peacock and lost ostrich, her black pants and elegant white shirt that suggest that she is a flight attendant, but the truth is she is just a waitress and a fancy café in Riad district, the despicable Taxi was long awaited, she started to think of seeking for a small taxi, but the bill will be high, that’s why she decided to wait, it’s okay,  since she is in a relationship with the café owner then he won’t scolded her for being late, behind her stands a weird man, his hands are rough, and his mustache implies that he is a construction worker, a simple man who made use of the hustle to come near her and smell the awful odor coming from her neck, and from time to time he reach his hands to touch her waist and apologizing all the time, at the beginning she got upset but without he little brain noticing she got lost in her wild imagination, she imagined the one with the moustache naked in front of her,  roughly kissing her, his breath mixed with cigarettes “ Marquise” made it  more rousing, her soft hands reached in and grabbed his blazing organ, she didn’t know that a girl as sweet as her can have such imagination, eccentric as this, the she whispered: I seek refuge in Allah from the accursed Satan, the damn taxi had finally came, Unfortunately for her and fortunately for him they sat next to each other in the first seats, the heat coming from her thigh set the poor man’s veins on fire, but he controlled himself and tried to think of his fat wife, he quickly got her out of his head and whispered: There is no power but from God. She in the other hand, her focus had switched to the driver who intentionally mixes between her thigh and the transducer, desire had controlled her so she let him do what he wanted, she bent round against her will and her hands over the mustache man's sexual organ because of which he was about to be suffocated out of happiness, she finally woke up when she felt o breeze of cold between her legs, asked the driver to stop and in embarrassment, she got off, the mustache man and the driver both couldn't understand a thing and translated what happened with a dumb smile

Filthy Rat

 I will quit smoking, I will stop writing and I will retreat from life for the sake of my lover, I will be transformed to a filthy rat that suddenly gets out from his hole to steal some pieces of jewelry leaving behind him hundreds of curses for a smile of satisfaction from my love, I will skin a human monkey off and make of his skin a shoe that would suit my lover's beauty, I will dance for her just like how Zorba dances when he is high, thousands of poems I shall recite to her exactly how Rimbaud recite them on the abandoned boats, I will kiss her as if I am kissing thousands of women, I will make her dangle like a dove in a freezing cold, and I will cheat on her dozens of times for sure.

Buttons for sale

 Ziad couldn't find a thing to sell but his coat buttons. He toured the city in vain in a desperate try to sell them. He squatted in the street thinking, he sorted them down on the floor and kept looking at them, what is your secret you damn buttons! Why won't anyone buy you?  Sank in his unuseful thoughts, a homeless man surprised by asking him: How much those beautiful buttons cost? Ziad was amazed, and then took another look on the buttons and he discovered them to be beautiful, why didn't he notice that before! I'm sorry, they aren't for sale, I'm just enjoying their beauty.

He squashed the buttons into his pocket and went back to his room, he put them again on the table after he removed all that was on it from crust bread and some newspapers, he starts pondering at them again, but this time with a critic's eyes; I must find the beauty that that stupid saw in them, what interested him in worn-out coat buttons? What did he exactly see in them? Many questions kept him awake all night without being able to find answers for them!

He wished he had a cigarette to shut the annoying noise that these damned three buttons triggered in his heavy skull, his empty stomach growled asking for food, he found nothing but a crusty piece of bread that was on the table; where is it! He jumped from his place looking for it! Oh God, I'll accept anything but the disappearance of this piece of bread, it is all that I have, it and these ugly buttons! He squatted looking for it under the table, one of the buttons fall and vanished, at that moment he forgot about the bread and started looking for the button. He turned the room upside down but couldn't find it, he stood still in his spot and whispered to himself: It was just stolen! The piece of bread was just in front of him and he didn't touch it, he forgot about the hunger, he was robbed! It was that criminal of a cockroach that stole it, he stole the candy bar that I was saving for an emergency! What did this wretch also like about this button!

He kept on chewing the piece of bread in silence, curses, and swearwords bursting inside of him without allowing them out, that was him since he decided to quit drinking, everything had become a living hell that he wonders sometimes: Damn it! What's the point? Why won't I just keep on drinking?

The suffering starts from the early morning hours, six o'clock to be exact, the annoying shouting of his alarm starts, he wakes up freaking out, looks for the damned alarm to shut it down, he can't find it, he remembers he doesn't have one, not even a cell phone that could make such noise that woke him up from his death, he wonders, thinks, yawns, the radio starts working by itself, it blabbers a lot without making sense for him, the radios shushes after finding out that no one is listening. He closes his weary eyes so he could benefit from what had left of his sleep, yet the crazy alarm starts yelling again, he curses it .. again, goes to the bathroom, effortlessly urinates, it has the color of whiskey. He turns his head towards the mirror that is hanged in a non-fitting place, he has no clue on who put it there.. weird mirror. Run from here as fast as you can, it's not whiskey, it is urine .. run. He spoke to himself through the mirror.

He comes out quickly as he told himself, heads towards the kitchen, nothing there but empty glasses, No, No it has wine, where are the cigarettes, where is the lighter, shit..shit! The glasses are indeed empty!

He sensed a terrible fear, whose origin was unknown, his body was violently shaking, couldn't think of anything but wine, nowhere to escape to but his cold bed jumped in and slept...

The time went fast and the tacky alarm went back to screaming again, he opened his eyes slowly as if he just woke up from a long coma, he didn’t see a thing so he closed them as slowly as before, yet this time he tries to look at himself inside out, but he was shocked!  His big eyes weren’t able to see him, he detected a huge amount of ugliness in his face, he saw his facial features in its true shape, colorless features, intrusive wrinkles invaded his face in his absence and the of his lazy mirror. He got up quickly and stood before it, he punched it with the hatred that he’d felt: Why didn’t you pay attention you wretch!

He wore his yellow coat and stood looking at the dying mirror; he uprooted all the disgusting liquids of his body and spitted them on what was last of it! Useless damn house! He kept yelling at the locked-up rooms; I will get rid of all of you when I come back. A deafening silence filled the entire house that he imagined that he heard the chairs and the pots shuddering in fear from him!

Violently he slammed the outer door, the old lady next door screaming and cursing, pointed his middle finger to her and kept walking as quickly as he always is, then he remembered that he had nowhere to go and he slowed down! He stopped for a moment to look for his box of cigarettes in his coat pocket, but he couldn’t find it so he shouted with all the despair that he felt. That vile house! The son of a bitch didn’t alert me; that’s it, I’ve had enough…

Like a raging bull he kicked the door and broke it, he violently opened the rooms to start throwing the furniture out of the window, but there was nothing there, the house had nothing but the murdered mirror, he opened his room door, it was empty as well, no bed, no pillow, not even a piece of cardboard, once again he was deeply shocked, and when he couldn’t find a thing to throw from his room window, he threw himself.

The Scarecrow

 It was four in the morning; he sat on his table which stood on flour that had nothing but a piece of cardboard as a carpet. His hands reached for a glass of dark water that supposed to be tea, he brought it close enough to his nose, and then, with sealed eyes, he drank it. He grabbed a piece of wood that presumed to be a piece of bread, shoved it into his pocket, and went out to his work dragging his worn-out clothes behind him. On the field stood just a scarecrow, shyly he greeted it and the scarecrow responded with a furious rage; you’re late, you son of a bitch, it’s five o’clock already. As shy as before he apologized and took the old scarecrow’s place which left like a raging bull! The Scarecrow was his father. They have been both, alternately, occupying its spot. For since the father found out that the birds figured it out about the wooden scarecrow, he forced his son to take its position. All he could do was standing on the spot, and moving his hands from time to time to scare the birds away. He will stay like that till four p.m, after that, it’ll be his father’s turn again.

Standing there, he cried with the one eye he had left, for a bird gouged out his eyes a month ago. A beautiful bird had landed over his head one day, he didn’t want to scare him off, and so he let him be. The bird thought that it was only a wooden scarecrow that wouldn’t move. The bird was intrigued by the eye’s pupil so it gouged it with its beak. And that was not it, but his father broke his left leg punishing him for his complacency with those damn birds.

 Sometimes, alone in the middle of the field, he started laughing, he imagines his meeting with his beloved neighbor, to whom of course he couldn’t confess his love, but he told her about it dozens of times in his imagination, and in each time, she used to laugh which made him laugh too… Hello! I’m a scarecrow and I love you.

Even after his father’s death, he kept on working as a scarecrow, there was nothing else he could do! It didn’t last long though, especially after being humiliated by his neighbor right after he expressed his love to her. The truth is that she didn’t utter what could have hurt him, but she strangled him with her silence which he succeeded to translate it as: You are a Scarecrow for Hell’s sake!

He woke up early, as usual, performed his Fajer prayer, and sent a silent prayer to Allah; Oh Allah, may you keep the birds away from me! He sighed.. twice, then stood from his spot, wore his clothes, and got out without waking up his gimp dog! Few miles and he reached the field… he squashed his corps into the worn-out clothes and start pondering the view ahead of him! A divine serenity brought faith and joy to his heart, which made him forget what he shall suffer from for the rest of the day! A bird singing in the middle of the grass.. two frogs lying idly underneath the only existing tree on the field! An aunt carrying a grain of wheat!  Filthy underwear, an old shoe! Waking up from his mindedness, he asked for Allah’s forgiveness, entrusted his soul to Allah and he got up! He chased away the birds and stood up like an old boat sail, extended his hands forming Jesus cross, after five minutes, he burst laughing; what the hell am I doing? What a lame of a job am I practicing? Like father, like son! The sons of a bitch are mocking us! To hell with my father and his craft! I will not do this anymore.

After years of working as a scarecrow, Omar died alone, in the middle of that massive field. He was dreaming of riding dragons when he died. After two weeks, a yellow flower cracked her way through his skull