The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #24 (A part of my novel)

Toney and his son walked along the dirt track leading away from their house.  As they did, they got a better view of the cedar, yellow maple and teak trees that surrounded the landscape.

That moment was quite enlightening for Toney.  It gave him a special view of where things were.  He visited the area a few times before, to meet with the gentle man who sold him the house, but never then were able to have a good look at the landscape.  It seemed that each time they met were at evenings, leading into the night.

As the two continued walking, the ambiance was as new to Jason as it was to Toney.

About ten minutes into their calm stride, the dirt road tapered off.  Forming beneath their feet were stones neatly crafted and laid as a puzzle piece to each other, forming the bigger picture; the main road.

Donkey carts and a few horses exploded onto the street.  There were probably two or three cars parked lower down, closer to a corner leading out of the village.  People hurried, passing each other.  Some persons with friendly greetings, others just went along.

In the distance the sound of children could be heard laughing and a distinct one screaming the words, “Nah, nah you out, mom, he not playing fair!”

As Toney and his son approached the first shop, there was an old man selling ground provisions.

“I could get you a nice price for a few pounds on the yams or cassava, stranger.”  The old man spoke up, while he rose to his feet.

With that, Toney turned and cast his eyes along the street, and noted dozens of vendors on either side of the road way.  He then gave a chuckle, rocking his head back and fought a bit.

Jason looked at his father, squinted his eyes but said nothing.  He had seen this look on his father’s face many times before.  It was the look that came with some type of realization.

Toney was so busy for the entire week getting all things ready for his family to leave Dow island, that he did not realized that the day was Saturday.  Had he remembered, he will have suggested to Merry that she came along and get some dry goods for the family.  She was the one that was better at this.

Toney looked at the track behind and wondered whether he should send Jason back to call her.  But then again, a quick thought filled his mind.  Merry is never the one to forget things like this and most have known the day, but opted not to remind him.  In that way, she could get both men out the house and do her decorating in peace.

The streets, converted into a market place had people up and about trading or just meeting each other.  Some, it seemed, used the time to bring their children out to relax and play with their little friends.

Toney and Jason left the old man and proceeded west.  As they made their way along the hectic street, persons called to their attention, the prices of tomatoes, onions, water melons and other items.

On the main street, to the left hand side, about fifty meters inside, a dead end road appeared.  Closer to where the two stood, a small sign hung sideways against a bamboo pole, ‘Help Wanted—Tool Sharpener’.

The two approached the main entrance at the front of the structure, which was partly constructed of wood from the ground to about two feet up.  The remaining portion was partitioned with wire, giving it an appearance of that of honey combs.

Toney opened the door and entered the structure.  His son followed about an arm’s length away.

Although the main street was noisy, yet it didn’t seem to make its way down to this workshop.  The two continued making their way a little further inside.

At the right hand side of the room stood a tall pale coloured man working at a table.

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

All rights reserved.

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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 #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 #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 #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.