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 #6 (A part of my novel)

Of their four children, Sarah was just a few months old when he left.  Too young to understand what had happened.   But her bulging mocha coloured eyes, glazed over, like dew falling from dead mango leaves, the night police came and took him away.  It was a showery Friday evening.  Shelly remembered as though it was just a few hours ago.  Jasmine, the oldest, was a few months over five, she remembered, but had since blocked out the visions of her father being dragged away.  That night, about three, or possibly four corvettes came racing to the house.  No sooner had you heard the sirens coming around the bend, as far as the cemetery, they were there………..

 

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

All rights reserved.

The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #5 (A part of my novel)

So with the exception of the occasional letters Shelly wrote him, and post cards the children made by hand to send him; this was the only contact he had with them.

And now, he sat at the table, a stranger in their lives.

 

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

All rights reserved.

The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #4 (A part of my novel)

The family had not seen him for twelve and a half years, during the time of his incarceration.  All this time he spent on the islet of Centenery, about three hours from the main land.  From his family, he lived isolated.  Shelly had little means and could not travel freely to see him.  Also, the last place that anyone could end up was on Centenery.  The local fishermen preferred to venture out into the protected waters of the neighboring countries, than to veer in that direction.  But there a father and husband was.  Centenery was considered a curse.  And even Deo, as much as at times he longed for his family, this was not a place to come near. ………………….

 

Copyright © 2017 David Alexian

All rights reserved.

 

The Skies Are Lighted With Lamps #2 (A part of my novel)

It was a bit early in the evening.  Much earlier than when the family had their evening meal, but their they were, sitting, ready.  The dazzling light from the setting sun had just vanished behind the hill.  There was a gleam of orange that remained in the sky for a little while.  Maybe for about ten or fifteen minutes this spectacle lingered.  As the night fully took control of the skies it signaled a time for Kiskadee to recharge.  There were no stars to see tonight, the skies seemed lonely; even the orange streak was eventually gone. …………

 

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.

Following a character

The more I write about a character (follow them and ask them questions), the more they reveal themselves to me. I have this character called Deo in one of my stories, and thought I knew him well, but I am discovering this man is more mysterious than I thought. He has a story to tell; something he is hiding.

I think I will ask him what it is. Or hope he tells me, at least if he considers me his friend. I just hope I could deal with whatever he reveals.