The Village Beyond The Horizon

I stood there frozen in fear, fear of what was almost gone. The sun rays pierced

the tattered roof and like gold drops decorated the walls of the rustic cabin we call

home. It has been six years since they came and took the one thing I treasured most

in this world and I swore I would never forgive them.

My Grandpa Toto was the wisest man i knew. He was the village sage. No one knew

how old he was. Some say since Columbus time. Oh the fading memories I have of

Pa Toto. I never knew that in the blink of an eye all that I have grown to cherish would

slowly dissolve when he left. Dancing around the bond fire singing songs of yesterday,

telling stories of times past, oh the memories come flooding back and tears flooded my

eyes as I thought of Pa Toto. I wish he was still here. Things would certainly be different

Every thing seemed still.

The silent river that was once filled with early fisher men from the village reeling their

catch before the break of day now seemed void of life like the Dead Sea. I remember

the days sitting in the heart of the canoe, as Pa Toto patiently waited for me to prove

myself a fisherman. We spoke for hours on end, he was my confidant. He was a refined

man sun-baked face gave age greater than reality. He made being a fisherman a proud thing

and I looked forward to the day when I would make pa proud. The sound of my mother's

voice pierced my thoughts and I couldn't breathe.

I was suddenly jolted back to reality the screams of a never ending pain she suffered year

after year. My father never spoke much. He always wore a frown and his eyes were cold and

very different from grandpa. Which man was I supposed to be? Deep down in my heart I

already knew the answer. To be warm and endearing is better than cold and uncaring.

But Pa Toto was a man whose former years are tales of hardships, struggles and injustices.

He spent nights behind steel bars, for being "tanned". He had scars from the law or those

who thought themselves superior. His time was not as peaceful as my father's. He gave his

all to make sure we didn't face what he had to So much for the sacrifices he made.

There has been nothing left but confusion and sadness that he left behind. Everyday another

family leaves for the woods searching for food, searching for newlands to take root and start fresh.

I do not belong here. I do not want to die here. I had long resolved that this was just a phase,

I too will move on if only I could convince my mother. I tried to whisper hope in her ear.

I tried over and over to let her see that life goes on and that Pa Toto would have wanted us

to move on. My father has lost all hope and i fear one day he will fall so hard in the depths

of despair that it would be impossible to get him out and show him that there is another

village over the horizon or maybe many villages. His fear of the unknown can be so crippling, so

unnecessarily immobilizing, not just to the body but to the spirit and mind.

And yet while I sit here listening to the calming voices of the river and smile at the reflection of..

the trees in the pond, I can't help but wonder what could have been. What if we had taken another path? Would our lives be the same? Would things have turned out differently?

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Contributors

I posted a picture on my facebook page and began with an opening sentence which invited persons from my friends list to continue writing the story where the last person stopped. I contributed throughout the exercise to encourage persons to keep the story alive. Thanks to all who contributed. You have all made this picture come alive.