The Tale of the Time-Travelling Għawmara

Chapter 1: The Accidental Athlete

It was another scorching summer day in Valletta, and Ċikku, a wiry lad known for his love of ħobż biż-żejt and l-ikla tal-Ħadd, had somehow gotten himself wrapped up in the most peculiar of situations. Clad in a pair of mismatched xorts and a tank top that said “Uwejja!”, he had mistakenly stumbled upon the starting line of the annual Valletta Marathon while chasing after a rogue football.

“Mela! What kind of żball is this? All I wanted was to kick the ball around in the square!” Ċikku exclaimed as a sea of runners engulfed him.

Little did he know, his life was about to become entangled with history—Maltese history, to be specific. For amongst the runners was Saverina, a hardcore athlete with not only a passion for pastizz but also a secret: she was a time traveler.

Chapter 2: A Twist of Fate and Time

As the klaxon blared, signaling the start of the race, Ċikku found himself swept along. Meanwhile, Saverina adjusted her futuristic-looking wristwatch, the Timestretcher4000. She aimed to zip back to the 1950s to experience the thrill of racing against Malta’s legendary track stars. However, in a twist of fate, her elbow nudged Ċikku as she activated the device.

“Aw ma!” Saverina gasped as a vortex of light swallowed them both.

The duo landed clumsily onto an old cobbled road. Saverina, quick to realize her folly, turned to the bewildered Ċikku.

“Wejcome to Mdina, circa 1950! And, um… Welcome to the past!” she cheerily informed the still-confused Ċikku.

Chapter 3: Retro Runners, Renown, and Rabbit Stew

Their arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed. To the townspeople, it seemed like two strange athletes were eager to challenge their local champions. But Ċikku, ever the opportunist, saw a chance for a free festa meal and decided to play along.

“As long as at the end of this race, there’s a plate of fenek moqli waiting for me, I’m your man,” he declared, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

The pair lined up against Mdina’s finest runners—all sporting mustaches so impressive they deserved their own sports category. With the crack of the starter’s pistol, they were off!

Chapter 4: Social Media Frenzy in a Time Without Phones

It was truly a sight to behold, legs pumping and mustaches flapping in the wind. Little did the racers know that Saverina’s wristwatch also had the bizarre side effect of creating pseudo-social media posts that echoed across time.

Saverina Tweets: “Just racing through the ’50s with my new buddy #TimeTravelMarathon #MustacheMayhem #FenekAtTheFinishLine”

Back in the present, confused historians began to notice old photographs with the incongruous image of a man in xorts and a tank top at the 1950 Grand Mdina Sprint—an event otherwise remembered for its strict dress code and absence of modern sportswear.

The duo ran through Gozo, circled back to Rabat, then hurtled toward Mdina’s finish line. Maltese nanniet sipping on te fit-tazza cheered from their balconies as Ċikku, through sheer determination for rabbit stew, outran every mustachioed Maltese in sight.

“Kollox is possible with the promise of rabbit on the table!” Ċikku declared triumphantly as he burst past the finish line.

Chapter 5: The Winners’ Feast and A Time-Traveler’s Farewell

The feast was magnificent. Tables groaned under plates of timpana and trays of qubbajt, but the pièce de résistance was, of course, the fenek, which Ċikku devoured with gusto. Saverina chuckled at the historical hiccup she’d caused, knowing that her time-traveling shenanigans would be one for the books—who needs Għawdex when you have time travel?

As the sun set over the silent city of Mdina, Saverina prepared to return them to the present. But just before she pressed the button, Ċikku, with a mouth full of rabbit, stopped her.

“Wait! Can we first visit the 1967 Eurovision? I’ve always wanted to cheer for Malta’s first entry!” he half-joked.

“Who knows?” Saverina winked. “Maybe we’ll make Malta the winner this time around.”

And with a giggle, they vanished into the corridors of time once more, leaving behind an epic tale that would be whispered about in Mela folklore for generations to come.

And back in present-day Valletta, the marathon runners were still trying to figure out why an uproar of applause erupted from the historical archive booth when a photograph of the 1950s sprint finish line displayed a strangely dressed runner—the accidental athlete, Ċikku, and his time-travel companion, Saverina.