The Old Man

Chapter one

Darkly cold the man walked down the road. Puffs of dusky dirt marked the
boot scuffs on the yellow orange plain.   A wind rose.  The bitter sweet
tang of flowers under layed with a bite.  The bite of death,  slow,  sweet, and
intoxicating. 
Far ahead across the chasm yellow lights flashed in the humid night.
The bite and the walk through the dust was hard unyeilding but with that sweet
taste, the taste of money.  Trousers and feet in a cloud of dust;  dark shirt
stained yellow grey across the armpits. Hat rode like a slouched cowboy across
the acrid brow, pony tail and all.  Sweat the taste of aluminum.   Lights
calling.He walked and walked but never down,  the hole of machines and the need
of aluminum wasn't what he wanted.  Song burst from glimpsed star of
candle as the
scuffs moved on their own.  The road was his, the harbor, the airport,
the pit that brought yellow ore from the ground to the furnaces.
The smell had acclimatized him.  The powder was the bones and the raw
hole his head.  Growl of a motor as the Bedford deuce and half growled up
the hill.
Night run.  Gold must be trading well for mutton on the river.
Never leave the bauxite, the mercury or the hydraulic blasting or
rebels take
it all.
He walked like a shadow as the truck roared past.
Miles across and many more around the hole he walked, dogs didn't bark,
night birds were quiet.
The lights grew bigger,  sounds of singing heard.
The collection of "approved" buildings grew closer.
His feet scuffed the hard yellow poison soil.
A dark square ahead.
Yellow light on each side.
Simple push on the door...
As all sound and motion stopped; he saw the trouble...
The Old Man
Faster than thought the flame leapt, singeing his head
the trouble was over.

Page one