The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #16 (A part of my novel)

“I wanted to surprise you and the children.”  He said.  “They told me that I was getting out today, to start over, anew.”

“I have waited for you.  Thanks for returning, this is a family again.”

Deo just held his wife as they both looked outside into the darkness.

About two miles away from the Narine’s family, Toney John had just finished his dinner.  He had bread and corn soup.  Today he moved into his new home with his family.  Dow Island was not going to see them again.  The two day boat journey to this island’s port and five hour donkey cart ride to Kiskadee village, was a plan that Toney saw played out in his mind many times.

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

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The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #15 (A part of my novel)

“Sarah, she sleeps with you?”  A whisper broke the silence.

Shelly released the grip she had on the kitchen towel, used to dust the bread crumbs into a plate she held at the corner of the table.  She straightened her back and turned to him.  Just shaking her head at him, then looking down at the work she was doing.

“Sarah, our daughter, Shelly, I don’t know her…twelve years is a long time.”  Deo’s eyes glazed as the lamp’s light in the centre of the table beat against his face.

Shelly moved closer to him, as if to hug him, but stopped short.  He looked at her, hesitated, but then threw his right hand around her neck, pulling her closer to him.  As Shelly cried softly against his chest, he turned his head and looked out through the window and into the dark distance.

 

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

All rights reserved.

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 #10 (A part of my novel)

About one hour had passed so far.  The time though seemed longer.  In a cage, time goes slowly.  He became used to this.  But just sitting there in the kitchen, Deo began to feel time itself had stopped.  Although he was in his house, he felt as though he was invisible to the home.  The white and gray striped shirt and khaki three quarter pants was all he came home with.  This suit was one of the best he had acquired, keeping clean and worn only on special occasions.  Out here, it is just cloths.  Cloths if sold could purchase maybe a cigarette or a drink of rum and nothing else.  On the islet, men could lose their life for accidentally staining possessions like these.

 

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.