God Forgets About the Poor by Peter Polites EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Peter Polites
- Language: English
- Genre: Family Life Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
BELMORE
HONOURED CITIZEN
Start when I was born. Describe the village and how beautiful it was. On
the side of a mountain but in the middle of a forest. If we walked to a
certain point on the edge, we could look over the valley and see rain clouds
coming. Sometimes we would see a cat on a roof, we read that as a warning
of a storm. When we looked down, we saw the dirt, which was just as rich
as the sky. My island, your island, our island. It’s named after the white
rocks at the mountain peak. It’s those same rocks that make the ground full
of nitrate—a natural fertiliser. Set the story there, this is the geography, but
start with the day I was born. Add salt and pepper and fat. Say the October
rains were creating a fine mist on the day, that it turned the air to glass. That
something in the weather was special. Make it magical in the way that
artists do. You’re supposed to be a writer, try and write something good this
time. Be interesting!
Our villages on the island are hidden. Up winding roads, in recesses
between mountains. Back in time it would have been harder for raiders and
pirates to get to. People call them villages, but they are settlements. Made
up of a series of neighbourhoods. It might have been that there was good
shelter on the side of the mountain, or it was closer to good farming, so they
congregated. Set up dwellings and such.
In those little neighbourhoods we kept each other safe. If a girl was
approached by some tacky boy, some want-to-be bandit, the men might
gather and visit him, have some hard words. Or sometimes the eyes of the
village would watch from around corners and see that one of the families
hadn’t harvested enough before winter, give them some extra stores before
they could ask. Much unsaid but monitored. Do you remember when we
were there? That time you and your cousin went to the beach on the other
side of the island? By the time you came back, someone else had told me
where you were. That kind of safety, you can only get there.
What do you mean it’s not interesting? People will want my story. My
god. I sound like one of those wogs that used to come to the library asking
where they could tell their story. You know, they publish their own books.
But my story is unique. I promise.
I was born in the smoke of the world war. Tell them that. Guns and
cannons going off in canyons as my mother let me enter the world. The
exact place? A hospital?
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