Born of Darkness. Rita Vetere

      As she walked hand-in-hand with Charlie on the way to the train station in Casablanca, Lilli Fairchild could not help but hum the tune to the popular Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young song she’d loved as a teenager. There really was a Marrakesh Express, and they were about to board the train immortalized by the song. She turned to Charlie, who chuckled under his breath.

      “That song’s been going around in my head all morning too.”

      What a holiday this was turning out to be, and how like Charlie to select an exotic destination like Morocco when surprising her with tickets for a trip. After two years of being married to Charlie, she had come to love his penchant for the unusual, and to expect the unexpected.

      Charlie held the door for her as she entered the surprisingly modern train depot. Although modestly dressed in red cotton capris, white t-shirt and tan sandals, Lilli couldn’t help but notice heads turning as she entered the station, more or less the same way they did back home in Tampa. Mostly, it was her thick mane of blond hair, falling in waves to the middle of her back, people noticed first, then her creamy complexion, tall, slender build and long legs. The graceful way she moved, in spite of her height, seemed to add to the attraction. Charlie had always told her it was her dazzling smile that attracted people to her, one reaching all the way to her long-lashed, hazel eyes. When Lilli smiled, people just could not help smiling back.

      The stares continued as Charlie joined her inside and took her hand. Back home, people often commented on what a striking couple they made. Charlie seemed perpetually unconscious of his own darkly handsome looks. His glossy black curls, a gift from his mother whose ancestry was Greek, were combed back, away from his face. Charlie’s eyes, in contrast to his olive complexion, were sky-blue and arresting. He stood a good six inches taller than Lilli at six-foot-two, with an athletic build and muscular arms and legs. His strong features lent him an authoritative, serious look that belied his good humor and easygoing personality.

      They had arrived in Casablanca the day before yesterday. The next day, they explored the maze of streets in the medina, the old, walled part of the city, and strolled along the esplanade where they watched the waves crashing onto the rocks. Then, last night, when an American couple they shared dinner with mentioned they had just returned from Marrakesh, which they said was not to be missed, he and Lilli decided to spend a few days at the popular destination. Whatever they had missed in Casablanca, they would have time to explore when they got back. So, after packing enough for two or three days and arranging for a hotel in Marrakesh through the helpful staff at their hotel, they found themselves at the station, about to board the train that would deposit them in the exotic city four hours to the south.

      They did not have to leave the brilliant sunshine behind for long. After Charlie purchased their tickets, they moved onto an open platform where a red and yellow train awaited its passengers. Fifteen minutes later, Lilli and Charlie took their seats in a comfortable first-class compartment and the Marrakesh Express left the station.

      The train wound its way past the slums on the outskirts of the city, where some of the homes were no more than poorly constructed huts, but soon the train moved into the plains to the south, where only the distant hills broke up the vista of endless fields for the next hour and a half. The unchanging scenery and the steady clickety-clack rhythm of the train eventually lulled them into silence. Before long, Charlie dozed off in the late morning sunshine. From her straw bag, Lilli removed the small book on Marrakesh she had purchased at the station and began to read.

      Sometime later, Charlie’s eyes opened and he stretched, smiling. “Are we there yet?”

      “Almost, I think.”

      “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he said, moving from his window seat to the empty one next to her. He kissed her, letting his lips linger on hers for a bit.

      Lilli could barely contain her excitement. “This is going to be so much fun. Our hotel’s right next to the biggest square in all of North Africa,” she said, checking the book for the name. “It’s called ‘Djemma el Fna’ and the souks are just behind the square. We can pick up some souvenirs there to take back with us.”

      “Sure. The couple last night said we’d find lots of great stuff in the market.”

      When the train arrived in Marrakesh, they were met with chaos outside the station. Everyone scrambled for a taxi, luggage in hand. Charlie managed to get one fairly quickly and waved Lilli over. After stashing their hand luggage in the trunk, they got into the back seat and Charlie gave the driver the name of their hotel, or riad, as it was called. The taxi drove along the wide, treed boulevards of the Ville Nouvelle, the newer part of the city built by the French, to the ancient walled part of the city.

      They entered the medina through a horseshoe-shaped gate called Bab Agnaou. The opening was not overly large, but managed to look impressive, carved with floral decorations and an inscription of some sort. The antiquated wall, a sun-bleached shade of ochre, gave Lilli the feeling they were entering a different era. The sensation intensified after they passed through the gate. The ancient clay and limestone walls of the structures inside the medina and the arches over the narrow alleys were tinged in hues varying from red to salmon. The local women were veiled from head to toe with only latticed fabric at the eyes. As they drove along, she could see some of the residents as they turned toward Mecca to pray, first standing, bowing in prostration then kneeling. Cars and motorized bicycles shared the roadway with donkeys pulling carts.

      She looked at Charlie in surprise when the driver pulled up in front of a dark, tunnel-like alley and announced their arrival. She was even more surprised when he told them the only way to enter the riad was through the alley, on foot. Wondering if they had been misled by the hotel staff in Casablanca, Lilli exited the taxi while Charlie paid the driver for the trip, removed their luggage from the trunk, and then joined her at the dim entranceway to the alley.

      “This is safe, right?” she asked, a trifle nervous.

      Charlie smiled and took her hand. “Of course it’s safe. C’mon. Think of it as an adventure.”

      They made their way along the shadowy passage, taking care not to trip on the uneven stones beneath their feet, their arms brushing against the rough walls on either side of the narrow, winding alley. The smell of unfamiliar cooking mingled with the dank odor of the alleyway, once again giving Lilli the sense of having stepped into the past. At the end of the passageway, they arrived in front of a large wooden door and entered, not sure what to expect, and found themselves on the sumptuous ground level of the riad.

      “Wow, it’s like a small palace,” she said, looking around in awe at the luxurious place.

      The three-level structure was built around an open, marble-floored courtyard. A stone lion’s-head fountain, from which sun-dappled water flowed into a