The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #14 (A part of my novel)

As Deo sat at the table, Shelly cleared the dishes, removing the children’s, then his.  He eased back into his chair, as if to allow her sufficient room to reach his plate, and then, just kept looking at her.  Shelly could not remember her husband being this quiet, but under the circumstances, she continued doing the same.

After a few more minutes, Deo sluggishly got up from the chair and made his way to a small wooden window in the kitchen; a window he recalled building just before his incarceration.  A gentle smile enveloped his face, as the nights air struck him.  Reaching into his pocket, he took out a pack of cigarettes and reached over to a box with matches near the kitchen sink.  He shook it, listening to the sticks crashing into each other.  He then placed a cigarette to his lips, lighted the match and leaned into it.  There was a silence, so much so that he could feel it in the air, heavy.  He looked from the corner of his eyes at his wife’s piercing gaze.  He recognized that much had changed since he was gone.  He blew the match out and crumpled the cigarette in his hand, but the pack he returned to his pants pocket.  He chewed on his thumb nail for a few seconds.  Deo looked at the thumb, while playing around with a piece of the nail in his mouth.  Then spitting it through the window, he scratched against his two day old beard.

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

All rights reserved.

The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #12 (A part of my novel)

He cocked his head to the side, surveying the room.  Placing his elbows on the table, he exhaled.

He had always longed for his freedom to be with his family, but now, he felt as though the distance they had was what his family needed.  His thoughts raced.  Much the same as the night he was taken away.  He wanted to get away from them.  Thinking, maybe it was a wrong idea to be let go from a secured place.  A place he had control over.  Perhaps the judge was wrong and that he was not a rehabilitated man.  At that moment, he wanted to return to Centenery.  To the place where he hid behind stone walls and prayer someone his life will end.  But even behind bars, new travelled fast.  And without saying a word, it was understood that Deo Narine was to be touched by no one.

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

All rights reserved.

The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #11 (A part of my novel)

As Deo sat in the kitchen, his mind tried to make sense of what his sight beheld.  The table in front of him seemed different to when he sat there the last time.  It appeared bigger.  Probably because of the size, when compared to the one he had in his prison cell.  Either way, it felt strange.  The six chairs around the table were worn and unsteady; their previous light brown colour had now taken on a dark grayish shade, lightened by the constant scrubbing and polishing.  From where he sat, he saw the kitchen sink propped up with two pieces of wood.  Wood Shelly must have fastened to keep the tattered stand from crumbling to the floor.  The kerosene stove was blackened and choked by the soot.  A shade highlighted on the few cooking pots, hanging from four inch nails, driven into the wooden wall.

 

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

All rights reserved.

The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #9 (A part of my novel)

The evening was serene.  Deo now said just about three words to his wife, since walking through the door.  The children were quiet too, as if trying to make adjustments in their thinking.  Questions no doubt needed to be answered.  But who was going to start?  Was this even the right time for questions?  At least one thing was certain, there was a man named Deo Narine in the house that night.  Tomorrow, the village will have the chance to meet him.  For men like Deo, probably word was already being spread in the village.

 

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

All rights reserved.

The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #8 (A part of my novel)

With the cars out of sight and her husband gone, Shelly just stood there, her eyes became a torrent.  Encircled by her children and a spot on the stairs were her husband had just occupied, the smell of freshly mowed grass mixed with manure filled the air.  A reminder courtesy the car wheels which had just pull out from the front yard.

 

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

All rights reserved.

 

The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #1 (A part of my novel)

Shelly Narine, stepped across the kitchen floor.  The floor boards hissed.  The rubber slippers she wore dragged against it, every time her heels rose.  It made a solemn rhythm.  She looked at her husband and four children. Screaming in her mind was how quiet everyone was.  She could not remember the last time the girls were around each other without bickering taking place.  Especially during dinnertime.  Shelly felt this was always the worst time when they were together.  Voices clamored for various parts of the meal.  If one chicken was on the menu a particular night, it best has more than two legs and two breasts.  And as for the loaf of bread, more than two ends. …………………..

 

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

All rights reserved.

Did some editing today.

It’s really interesting to see how your work continues to take shape as you work on the various parts of it. It takes some time though. But can’t complain too much, for I am seeing it take shape.

I have given myself until about this months end to complete check through of about 40,000 words, before giving it to someone else to have a read. So right now its just me doing my self edits (and feeling sleepy).