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    Century's Endings
    Century's Endings
    Century's Endings
    Ebook88 pages1 hour

    Century's Endings

    By Oliver Frances

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    About this ebook

    The stories in Century's Endings narrate the social problems of man and his drama with life. Some are set in a political climate of regimes abolished at the end of the last century and others where the rulers are men of narrow thought.

    In Century's Endings, explore the worlds of:

    'Faith' - A Soviet peasant finds that an unfortunate event changes his life - twice.

    'Jeremy Smith' -Luis, the Peñon, is just a guy whose mind is pestered with images and stories of the lives of the celebrities and people who have succeeded in North America. Though his ambition is to make the American dream come true, he travels mistakenly to the old continent where he sets out his adventure and, eventually, spends his live.

    'The Lord' - A young man, after completing post-graduate studies in a developed country, returns to his native land, where his countrymen don't understand his vision.

    'Cautious Man' - Elegábalo was a cautious man. He walked looking over his shoulder and never let his cautiousness slip away until he got what he always wished. Though Elegábalo was cautious man, he never thought of the unexpected, and this changed dramatically his fate and then fortune.

    'The Forgotten Ones' - Sometimes promises made by the politicians during their campaign for votes are never carried out.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherXinXii
    Release dateOct 1, 2015
    ISBN9781301840786
    Century's Endings

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      Book preview

      Century's Endings - Oliver Frances

      ONES

      FAITH

      The enormous flame scintillated with no mercy on the coppery soil. One dense blue heaven came out of a whitened mantle of clouds. From earth –through its fissures, laments sprouted. And, the wind had run away.

      Upon the large area of cultivated land, the peasants commented each other about the severe drought on that year meanwhile they were doing their labors, all nonplussed owing to the heat -an inclement flare lingered on their reddened and nude backs.

      It was unbearable the ardent day.

      Oh! Even God is not going to save us from losing the little we've sown in our smallholdings.

      Aridity devoured the long rows of the maize field.

      Shut up! Don't be bird of ill omen. We have enough with communism, Kazimiero scolded his pal.

      Ha! … What are you going to do to bring rain?

      It'll come. But, don't scare it away with your words. At the door of my house I got a cross of blessed palm to have rain. It never fails.

      Wait and see, told the peasant, raising his sight so as to watch the field.

      A gilt light suffused the immense plain.

      Kazimiero paced back to his home. His duty in the plantation had been completed, so that there was no time to labor on his holding. His sight under his straw hat observed all what he found on his way. It was unbearable for the peasant to watch the pasture scourged awfully.

      On the hill, grinding to a halt and taking off the hat, he caught a glimpse of the whole landscape, which was extensive and untamed. A rare sensation of impotency ran around him. To his mind came the question that: to where had gone the central planning upon agriculture? No response for it. However, in a few minutes, he would forget it at all once he had got to his home -where was the woman that met in Belarus.

      In the wooden house, Aldas was seated on a leather stool awaiting her man as usual. Time had killed the sentiment, and their intense passion had put out long ago. Routine had gained the control of their lives. At every morning, she kneaded the pastry for blynai, which was baked on an earthenware oven, along with black coffee were the breakfast.

      The crop on their holding was enough for the other meals.

      Oh God! Kazimiero, I can't stand this heat. Where rain comes? Aldas moaned about as she cleaned off perspiration drops running down on her cheek.

      Don't worry! It'll come. But, rain is going to stay for long.

      Another day more in the plantation… You don't have time to repair the roof.

      I have to do it before setting rain… The aluminum won’t be resistant… All us have to work in the plantation to support the ideology of communism: man for man. But, the members of the politburo know nothing about it. All the money is for the military machine.

      This land doesn't yield a lot anymore.

      Aldas, what we need is to have technical equipment to improve our land. Moscow should send them.

      What is going to send is more military men and guns against us if we still hold the idea of liberation and even talk in our language.

      Moving out some piece of junk upon the stoves, Kazimiero said. From all ideas that have been poured on these countries just politicians have drawn benefits. Communism has created gods. The only for us left is: work and sorrow.

      Tiredness was mirrored over her countenance. So, she threw some words.

      Liquor can just heal our souls.

      Yes… Give me a tipple, asked the peasant.

      ***

      The luminous blue that colored the skies had turned into a greyish hue. The sun would conceal itself behind the enormous obscure clouds that began to mantle heaven. As the rays of light became more intense, steam welled up from earth. And, the great torch cast a flare that would punish men.

      Great! The cross will work out. It's going to rain, told Stasys.

      Ha! What I've said. God never fail.

      I hope that there was no flood, said Stasys.

      You're always a bird of ill omen. Shut up! Kazimeiro quarreled.

      Even though the night had not come yet all was in shadows. Amidst the maize field ran a mild breeze leaving a trail of humidity. Kazimeiro would not have work on the plantation that afternoon. As he walked back home, a solid bead dashed the fissured soil, and others did the same. The heaven skies started out to put their tears over the land as drizzle began to fall.

      It's begun to rain… Thanks God, said Aldas as her eyes gleamed with happiness.

      This morning I told Stasys that the cross of blessed palm never fails. That is much better than promising to put a one on the Hill of Crosses.

      Old age has made you clever.

      It is not cleverness… It’s just that I know what to do, he contradicted.

      The night metamorphosed itself into such an enormous angered beast that cast out from his eyes tearful and ardent hailstones over the earth. Heaven scourged the rebel soil. Apocalypses had arrived in Earth.

      All men afraid hid themselves in their shelters.

      Kazimeiro and his woman struggled against the ire of nature. The aluminum were not so resistant. At one end of the roof, there was a great leaking.

      We are going to fill all the buckets with water, said Aldas, worried.

      Oh my goodness! You're a squared woman. Just go out and throw away the water and come back again… Don't be silly! Put a pan under the leak.

      The night creature was still much more furious and, his whips were more severe upon his subject.

      Kazimeiro! The woman cried in desperation. The rain dropped down the wood boards. The hens are in run.

      At hearing Aldas, he rushed out the house. In the commotion, the man did not feel the great drops hit all over his constitution.

      The small refuge of the hens was pulled down. Upon the ground laid the metallic net and boards that protected them from being exposed to the weather. A furious wind was the culprit. One of the three birds shouldered around a puddle of water as though entrapped in it. Kazimeiro chased the hen and, once he was over it, the beast threw out a hailstone on him.

      It was an unexpected hit that had flung him. His head run into the water and stout body against the wet soil. The creature had not pitied the unconscious man that lay upon the ground like a piece of muddy meat, because this still whipped him with its ardent tears.

      ***

      At first hours of the morning, the hideous creature swirled an obscure mantle so as to dissolve itself. The heights ceased to impose its punishment

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