The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #18 (A part of my novel)

From time to time he looked at the stick, lost in thought.  Like a scared bird in a trap, he sat on the step, exhausted.  His ears listened to the sounds in the distance, familiar sounds of animals, but in an unfamiliar place.

Toney looked at him through the opened front door.  His son had left much behind.

Toney felt he made the best decision for his family.  As a father, he was not about to leave anyone behind.  He told himself, what he experienced as a child at the hands of his relatives, was not going to be that of his family.

‘A man running’, but he did not mine that title.  He thought if he stayed, he will be no different.  A change in scenery was all he thought it will take.

This home was an investment.  It was not in the best of condition, a little over twenty years old since being constructed.  He knew his way around a bit of carpentry and had great plans to rebuild the house someday; making it more comfortable for his wife and son.  Perhaps an additional room or two; making it bigger.

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

All rights reserved.

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The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #17 (A part of my novel)

 

Merry, Toney’s wife, was busy putting up the last of the curtains in the dining room.  Humming a tune to herself, her smooth hands worked like that of a surgeon.

Jason, their sixteen year old son, held a stick in one hand and a small dull Swiss knife in the next.

He held the knife firmly in his hand, its handle wrapped with a piece of cloth.  The knife, his father had given to him as a present, over five years ago.  Occasionally he brought the two together, scraping the blade against the wood and blowing off the dust that gathered on his hands.

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

All rights reserved.

The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #17 (A part of my novel)

 

Merry, Toney’s wife, was busy putting up the last of the curtains in the dining room.  Humming a tune to herself, her smooth hands worked like that of a surgeon.

Jason, their sixteen year old son, held a stick in one hand and a small dull Swiss knife in the next.

He held the knife firmly in his hand, its handle wrapped with a piece of cloth.  The knife, his father had given to him as a present, over five years ago.  Occasionally he brought the two together, scraping the blade against the wood and blowing off the dust that gathered on his hands.

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

All rights reserved.

Lonely peace

Is it wrong to feel lonely or insecure, even when the entire earth is all around?

No really, I am asking you the question, because I don’t know! For, from time to time this is the feeling I have.

But there is an inner peace, a strange drive that spurs me on today, something that is sacred.