Part 4
Part 3
Part 2
It was a beautiful bright morning. After the
night storm, the sun had begun to walk its way with the intention of
showing all its beauty. Alex had left his house slowly approaching
his old favorite chair. With a cloth he had dried it up from the
rain of the night and he sat down giving a long sigh. He shook his
head carefully looking at the long strip of grass cut a few days
ago. He rose again to collect some pieces of branch carried by the
fury of the wind and went to carefully deposit them in the basket.
So he sat back and smiled.
“Today is a beautiful day.” He raised his eyes to the sky in both directions. Some clouds were forming and flowing slowly. “There is no better time to get up in the air.” He headed to the old hangar and opened the big doors producing the usual unpleasant creaking. His old workmate was always there waiting for him like a young colt at the beginning of spring—eager to run fast.
He approached slowly after a quick turn to check for any anomalies occurred in the last flight. Then he went up and turned it on slowly swaying on the loose ground, the small plane headed toward the headboard runway—ready for take-off.
“Where will the wind take us today, old friend?” He smiled giving a small pat on the dashboard.
The take-off took him just over the country, so he stabilized the plane by emitting a long sigh as he looked around. “You will see, my old friend, you must be patient. Soon there will be many people coming to us—eager to fly. We will do them somersaults just to scare them—enough to stimulate them. You will see, then they will ask to come back.”
He made a long tour of the village, almost grazing the roofs and forcing people to look up. With a broad gesture of the arms he greeted giving satisfaction to their smile. He returned to the airfield but, instead of landing, he touched the ground to resume altitude—performing the usual “Touch and Go” so frequent during his apprenticeship at the flight school.
Every time the wheels came off the ground, he remembered his old instructor and his stern gaze. Getting the flying license was not a choice, but rather a strange coincidence and he did not know whether the memory would bring him joy or sadness. On that day had gone out one of the long-sought dream to buy a house in the middle of the forest in which to spend a solitary life.
After a long search between agencies and newspaper ads, he managed to find it at the top of a hill. He immediately tracked down the owner by paying the advance to ensure his purchase. Every weekend he went up the long road and, although he could not get in, he sat for a long time in front of the door fantasizing about the future days. He imagined the grass freshly cut, the hedges, the trees, the crops and the animals to be cared for.
But one afternoon, the owner called to apologize for a different decision. He wasn’t going to sell it anymore. He would have returned the increased fifty percent deposit as wrote in the contract. At that moment, caught by a sudden tremor, he felt himself sink.
“But, that is not possible. We must reach an agreement,” he insisted, thinking it was a question of price. He would have accepted an increased cost. But the owner was immovable and denied any possibility in the sale.
That same afternoon, returning from the house of his broken dream, he found himself walking down the road near the old airfield. That strip of asphalt had never given him any special wishes, but that time, perhaps to ease the pain of a broken dream by superimposing it with another to build, he crossed the gate and headed for the small office.
“Today is a beautiful day.” He raised his eyes to the sky in both directions. Some clouds were forming and flowing slowly. “There is no better time to get up in the air.” He headed to the old hangar and opened the big doors producing the usual unpleasant creaking. His old workmate was always there waiting for him like a young colt at the beginning of spring—eager to run fast.
He approached slowly after a quick turn to check for any anomalies occurred in the last flight. Then he went up and turned it on slowly swaying on the loose ground, the small plane headed toward the headboard runway—ready for take-off.
“Where will the wind take us today, old friend?” He smiled giving a small pat on the dashboard.
The take-off took him just over the country, so he stabilized the plane by emitting a long sigh as he looked around. “You will see, my old friend, you must be patient. Soon there will be many people coming to us—eager to fly. We will do them somersaults just to scare them—enough to stimulate them. You will see, then they will ask to come back.”
He made a long tour of the village, almost grazing the roofs and forcing people to look up. With a broad gesture of the arms he greeted giving satisfaction to their smile. He returned to the airfield but, instead of landing, he touched the ground to resume altitude—performing the usual “Touch and Go” so frequent during his apprenticeship at the flight school.
Every time the wheels came off the ground, he remembered his old instructor and his stern gaze. Getting the flying license was not a choice, but rather a strange coincidence and he did not know whether the memory would bring him joy or sadness. On that day had gone out one of the long-sought dream to buy a house in the middle of the forest in which to spend a solitary life.
After a long search between agencies and newspaper ads, he managed to find it at the top of a hill. He immediately tracked down the owner by paying the advance to ensure his purchase. Every weekend he went up the long road and, although he could not get in, he sat for a long time in front of the door fantasizing about the future days. He imagined the grass freshly cut, the hedges, the trees, the crops and the animals to be cared for.
But one afternoon, the owner called to apologize for a different decision. He wasn’t going to sell it anymore. He would have returned the increased fifty percent deposit as wrote in the contract. At that moment, caught by a sudden tremor, he felt himself sink.
“But, that is not possible. We must reach an agreement,” he insisted, thinking it was a question of price. He would have accepted an increased cost. But the owner was immovable and denied any possibility in the sale.
That same afternoon, returning from the house of his broken dream, he found himself walking down the road near the old airfield. That strip of asphalt had never given him any special wishes, but that time, perhaps to ease the pain of a broken dream by superimposing it with another to build, he crossed the gate and headed for the small office.
Little Soul - Incipit
Little Soul
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