The Day Fighter: (Fight for Her)

By Irfan Khan

An Arab rich lass falls in love with a British writer (also a wrestler ) after reading his articles, she gets a chance to go England to find him but all of vain, she quits her efforts after a long and hard search but when the wrestler came to know he decides to find her himself and while trying this the biggest match in the wrestling history was organised to decide their destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546299165

Irfan Khan

I was born and raised in Kashmir (A beautiful land of brave people) now settled in The Great Britian.I write fun, action-packed fictions, Moral lessons, Heists, Adventures, Animatied and Science Fictions, also Punjabi songs and yes some Urdu poetry as well. Obviously the first one is in your hand. My characters are always something new and unique, important part of society, clever and fearless. I believe that this fiction will be a page tuner for you. Your feedback is compulsory for the changes and improvements. Irfan khan- South Yorkshire UK [e-mail]

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© 2018 Irfan Khan. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/17/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-9914-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-9915-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-9916-5 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Upcoming Projects

Dedication

United Arab Emirates

Saudi Arabia

London

London

Dubai

The National Museum

London

Dubai

London

Dubai

London

Dubai

Eight Weeks Later

UPCOMING PROJECTS

42154.png The Desire (Moral lesson)

42154.png Mountains Are Calling (Travel)

42154.png The Buildings (Science fiction)

42154.png The coward prince of Mohenjo-daro (History-War Drama)

42154.png The Pickers (Hiest)

42154.png Mountains Around Us (Action-Adventure)

42154.png The Mamba-land (Animanted)

42154.png An Immigrant (Fiction)

42154.png A Dead Nation (Moral Lesson)

42154.png The Tiger-Man (British Superhero)

42154.png The Rejected (Hiest)

DEDICATION

To my Great Father

Muhammad Aslam

and

beloved daughters

Hoorain Fatima

Hadiya Fatima

I t’s a cold winter morning in London, and many people are dressed up in warm clothes. The leaves are flying here and there on the roads, while various flowers dance in the cool breeze. The sun plays hide and seek on the sky. Birds are tweeting.

A postal vehicle stops outside a big house in a low rush street, and the driver – who is wearing the red suit of his company – gets out of the truck. He shuts the door, fixes up his clothes, and goes to the back of the truck to open it.

There are many parcels, letters, and boxes inside, and among them he finds a box with the name ‘Oracle’ written on it in marker. The box is old and almost torn; he’s used it many times before for the same address, this house in particular receiving a large amount of post.

After shutting the back door of the truck he looks over to his left, where the house with the name plate ‘Oracle’ on the front of the gate is situated, the sign covered a little with mud. It’s a traditional British two-storey, three-bedroom house.

He moves towards the house, opening the little gate and walking through it. After making his way along the courtyard, which is full of various plants and bushes, he reaches the door. The handle has lost its original colour; it seems no one has been there for a long time.

On the right-hand side is a big letter box, especially fixed for this house, and in it he places a load of letters from the box marked ‘Oracle’. There are thousands of letters inside the house that have been poured in through the letter box.

Slowly, he walks back to his truck.

Later on at late afternoon – Big Ben is showing the time as 3:00 p.m. – and the roads are busy with traffic; in some buildings it can be seen from outside through the big glasses people are working in offices, while others are at restaurants having coffee. Packed trains pass along the tracks while groups of children play in the nearby parks.

There is a beautiful big white house in a Porsche venue in London. The gate is open, showing a big and beautiful courtyard and a well-organised garden. There are three expensive cars in the garage, a fourth one covered with a tent.

The inside of the house is much more tremendous, with royal furniture and many decorative pieces. There are several interesting paintings on the wall, as well as some old bodybuilding pictures. Some show a young white boy, alone in some snapshots and with some boys in others. Medals, shields, and a wrestling belt are all hanging on the wall.

In the large, fully-furnished kitchen, an old fat man is cutting up some onions to make a dish. His name is ‘Cute’ and he’s the resident new chef. After taking a glance at his watch, he stops cutting the onion, turns down the oven, washes his hands, and then leaves the kitchen.

Walking over to another room, he knocks on the closed door, waiting a while for a response. When there is none, he shakes his head in disappointment and goes back to his work.

On the other side of the door there is a big bedroom featuring a large, expensive bed in which Oracle is sleeping. To his left there is a wardrobe full of ‘Green’ magazines. It’s a Britain based monthly magazine read and admired all over the world due to its various segments and top writers of the world. There are few rough papers on the side table where he used to write his article for the above magazine.

Just then, the alarm clock goes off.

Groaning, Oracle reaches out from beneath his blanket to press the snooze button, before turning over and going back to sleep.

A moment later, Cute comes back to the door, knocking again. When there’s no answer he shouts, Oracle, it’s 3 o’clock! You have to go to your match today – you have just four hours until it starts. He shook his head. You’ve been sleeping all night and now almost the whole day. Come on, get up!

He waits, but yet again there’s no response from Oracle. Sighing, he leaves, going back to his work.

Half an hour later, the alarm clock rings again.

This time Oracle puts his whole arm outside the blanket, picking up the alarm clock and throwing it through his window. He hears it land with a crash, probably on top of all his other broken alarm clocks that have suffered the same fate.

Cute hears the smashing noise coming from outside and whispers to himself, Another one broken!

Eventually – and with much difficulty – Oracle gets up. He’s only wearing a shirt, which shows off his superb body: his impressive muscles and broad shoulders.

As Oracle walks over to the washroom, Cute enters the bedroom with a new alarm clock, placing it on the side table in the same position as the last one. He then opens the windows and curtains, even though it’s almost evening, and looks outside at all the broken timepieces. Sighing, he heads outside, collecting them all so he can dispose of them.

After a quick shower, Oracle comes out of the bathroom, wearing nothing more than a towel wrapped around his waist. Heading over to the wardrobe, he picks out a green t-shirt and sky blue jeans, completing the look with a pair of socks and his caterpillar brown coloured boots. After tying his laces, he looks at himself in the mirror, nodding as he says to himself, Today is going to be your biggest match of the year. Are you ready?

After a moment, he replies to himself: Yes, I am ready. If you support me like always.

He smiles. You’re the man. Just show more determination and spirit and you’ll be fine. I believe in you.

After giving his reflection one last glance, Oracle leaves his room and heads to the dining room, where Cute has laid the table with all kinds of delicious-looking food.

Sitting down, Oracle gets to work on the chicken, fish, mince, and fruit in front of him, loading up so he’ll be ready for his fight.

Just then, a white Mercedes G Class stops outside the house on the road. The car looks brand new. A young, muscly black guy wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans sits in the driving seat – Kooper, a talkative and over confident, a man always showing off, school friend of Oracle.

Knowing Oracle will be able to hear him from inside the house, Kooper shouts out, Come on, Oracle! You’re already late! Come out – I’ve got good news: I got this new baby on cash yesterday. When there’s no answer he sighs, shaking his head. Hurry up! I want to give you a luxurious royal drive. Be quick, man!

He beeps his horn, and then turns up the music – ‘2 Pac’s you aren’t ever had a friend like me – dancing to it a little in his seat.

Oracle hears him but he doesn’t respond; he just carries on eating.

The music is very loud now, and can even be heard by the flats on the other side of the road. Several people close their windows, annoyed.

On the fourth floor an old fat lady with glasses resting on the end of her nose is cooking egg and vegetables in a fry pan. Disturbed by all the noise, she opens the window and shouts, Turn down the music, boy!

Kooper looks at her, but as he can’t hear any of what she’s saying due to the loud music, he ignores her and keeps on dancing.

Now even more annoyed, the old lady opens her window and leans out, beautifully throwing her gravy onto the bonnet of Kooper’s new car and she didn’t miss it. Add some gravy to your music, you stupid lad! she shouts, before shutting the window.

Kooper turns off the music and gets out of his car, angrily slamming his door shut. Are you crazy, lady? he shouts, throwing his hands up in the air. You ruined my car with your cheap gravy! He shakes his head, looking at the thick liquid as it slides down the bonnet. I know you’re just jealous of my new baby, he continues. "It’s the best car in town – everyone’s jealous!"

Once he’s managed to calm down, he gets some tissues from his car and starts cleaning the gravy off the bonnet.

Having finished his meal, Oracle leaves the house and goes towards the garage, pulling the tarpaulin off his car and sitting in the driver’s seat. Starting the engine, he drives out of the garage and pulls up next to Kooper’s car, the tyres screeching as he stops.

Kooper immediately stops cleaning, his jaw dropping as he takes in Oracle’s car: it’s a brand new yellow Hummer H2. My god! he shouts. What a marvellous car. But I have to say, you are pretty unpredictable. You sure like copying me.

No, I don’t, Oracle shoots back, it’s my own choice.

Kooper frowns. Did you get it on finance?

No, replies Oracle, I did a lump sum payment. He looks at Oracle’s new ride, whistling through his teeth. Your car’s pretty nice too.

My new baby! beams Kooper. It’s a bullet, man – it doesn’t run, it flies!

Oh it does, does it?

Yeah, says Kooper. Come on, I’ll show you!

Oracle looks his friend up and down. What? It sounds like you want to challenge me, he says.

Sometimes You’re an intelligent man, Kooper replies. "I do challenge you."

Slowly turning their heads, both of them look at the empty road stretching out in front of them.

Cute – who’s been listening to their conversation from the front door – walks over to them. He’s holding a handkerchief in one hand.

Who are you? asks Kooper rather rudely.

I am Cute.

Kooper laughs. Really? Well if you’re cute then I’m Mr. Universe. He laughs again, shaking his head.

"He