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TWO
There I stood several nights watching darkness crept up the mountains and the wind howled among the trees breaking branches on its way down to the village comparing my life to a wretched criminal. The lights went out in my mother's house and the dogs hounded, sending chills up my spine. Death was coming, the quietness of the night signaled that all below in the human jungle was fast asleep. Sleep and death were not identical; they weren't even brothers more like strange cousins.
I glanced over at the cemetery, willing my eyes to show me a spectre, an apparition of some sorts to comfort my wondering mind about what lies beyond the grave. But I saw nothing only blackness. The world was asleep, before long a dark silhouette stepped out into the street with a long thing hanging from his hands. He waved to an invisible friend or maybe he saluted the mountains. He probably was waving at me but I couldn't be sure.
I lay on my shrub of a bed and memories of my first love buzzed about like a swarm of mosquitoes coming into a house at the crack of a door on late evening. It annoyed me and try as I might I couldn't get the mosquitoes out. I was alone in the open air, with my mosquitoes.
No one has ever achieved much by wishful thinking and I'd always thought that if people loved you or care about you then they would at least meet you halfway. The world was a cruel place of games and machinations, people being played by those in power and those with money
I glanced over at the cemetery, willing my eyes to show me a spectre, an apparition of some sorts to comfort my wondering mind about what lies beyond the grave. But I saw nothing only blackness. The world was asleep, before long a dark silhouette stepped out into the street with a long thing hanging from his hands. He waved to an invisible friend or maybe he saluted the mountains. He probably was waving at me but I couldn't be sure.
I lay on my shrub of a bed and memories of my first love buzzed about like a swarm of mosquitoes coming into a house at the crack of a door on late evening. It annoyed me and try as I might I couldn't get the mosquitoes out. I was alone in the open air, with my mosquitoes.
No one has ever achieved much by wishful thinking and I'd always thought that if people loved you or care about you then they would at least meet you halfway. The world was a cruel place of games and machinations, people being played by those in power and those with money
12 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 29, 2014
1 person want to read
About the author
Crystal Evans
63 books13 followersCrystal Evans grew up in a small district in Grange Hill Westmoreland, Mint Road, She attended the Sterling Basic School, Grange Hill Primary School and The Manning's School in the parish.
At the age of twenty, Crystal published her first book when she met Francesca Tisot of Canada who aided her in getting a printery running and registering herself as an author and publisher with the Jamaican National Library.
Crystal has lead a interesting writing career, her quotes rank among the top thirty most popular quote by a creative mind.
She has written a cornucopia of short stories and published twenty five novels and novellas.
Crystal Evans is the mother of two beautiful girls.
Bronx and Paris and a little boy called Riche
At the age of twenty, Crystal published her first book when she met Francesca Tisot of Canada who aided her in getting a printery running and registering herself as an author and publisher with the Jamaican National Library.
Crystal has lead a interesting writing career, her quotes rank among the top thirty most popular quote by a creative mind.
She has written a cornucopia of short stories and published twenty five novels and novellas.
Crystal Evans is the mother of two beautiful girls.
Bronx and Paris and a little boy called Riche
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