‘HOPE AND DESPAIR’ BY Harry Alexiou. (Winning entry for Aug 2012 ‘Writers’ group-LinkedIn) now part of the anthology of selected works available Jauary 2013...http://professorlimn.blogspot.com

It was nearing the end of the hottest summer since records began and Andreas searched for lizards by the dried out river bed. The Akamas National Park located on the north-western peninsula of Cyprus was his playground; it hadn't always been. One year ago the invading forces had overrun his home and all the others in the village. Hundreds of displaced villagers were now spread around the southern, unoccupied, part of the island, some with relatives and some in temporary housing. Mother had told him, every day since,that soon they would return. His papa was still missing, probably held prisoner they’d told him. He held the box close ensuring the lid was firmly closed; it was the only item he’d managed to grab when they’d fled the village. The oak box had been made by his father, a carpenter, and intricately decorated with lizard carvings. Why had his papa said that he would catch them up as they’d fled? He couldn't understand why he’d lied. His mother had regularly visited the now divided city of Nicosia to ask about his father but always came back with that look in her eyes, drained of hope and full of despair. It always took her a couple of days to recover and to lift her spirits again; she always told him that he was her reason for going on and that she would keep trying to bring papa home.

Andreas was deep into the wooded area when a huge gecko caught his eye stopping him dead in his tracks. The creature froze. Andreas held his breath, unblinking, in his standoff with the wary reptile. The lizard moved one eye then the other; its tongue came out and sensed its surroundings. All of a sudden the creature ran off at lightning speed. Andreas was confused, he’d been so still. Then he felt it. The earth shook beneath his feet causing him to lose balance. He fell heavily grazing his head but still managed to keep hold of his box.

The shaking continued and he screamed for his mother. He lay on the ground and covered his head; he wanted it to stop and started to cry, but the shaking persisted. A cracking of branches and clattering of stones caused him to look up at the hillside just in time to see the football sized rock hurtling toward him. He dropped his box and rolled over with inches to spare. 

The rumbling stopped suddenly and he lay face down in the dirt, afraid to move. He lifted his gashed hands and cautiously raised his head, now covered in a layer of fine dust. The first thing Andreas searched for was his box and he sat up scanning the immediate area. It was nowhere to be seen so he stood up, still expecting to be thrown violently to the ground again. With tears still streaming down his face he searched frantically until he spotted it, a short distance ahead of him. He ran to it forgetting the earthquake and collapsed to his knees, not because of the shaking ground beneath, but because of the crushed box in front of him. He stared at it for a good while, numb to his core. Andreas picked up the pieces, and put them in a small pile, his eyes still moist; he started to dig a hole with a large flat stone which had tumbled down the hillside. The gathered pieces of the smashed box were placed into the hole and Andreas slowly covered them over. Still kneeling, he closed his eyes and recited a prayer in a low whisper. He opened his eyes and looked to the sky…‘Farewell Papa’.