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

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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 #7 (A part of my novel)

Deo was not going to run, he was waiting, but something else was on his mind.  He was playing over the moments leading up to the incident. But after the scream, the explosion and the smell of sulfur burning, everything else was a blur.  One fire fly zipped continuously in front of him, as he sat on the front step of the house.  The little insect was spelling something before his eyes.  It looked like a name.  But to a man with little time counting against his freedom, he could not make sense of it.  As quickly as Deo entered one of the cars, the door closed and away he went.  He did not look back to see his family, his neck was arched as he peered through the windscreen. ………….

 

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.