‘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...
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’.
