*****
 |
| Turning A Devil Into A Saint |
*****
One lunch hour
in early March, Lucky was on his way to see Mr. Socrates, when he heard a
strange sound coming from the direction of the main street. He thought it was
thunder at first and he looked up to see if rain threatened. But only a cheery sun
and bright blue sky greeted him.
It couldn’t be thunder, because the sound was continuous – it was a gigantic roar, with shrieks mixed in like a huge machine that badly needed oiling.
It couldn’t be thunder, because the sound was continuous – it was a gigantic roar, with shrieks mixed in like a huge machine that badly needed oiling.
There was a whirr and all over the street birds shot up
into the sky, as if threatened. They circled overhead, beaks open as they cried
out, but he couldn’t hear them over the roaring sound. A shadow fell over him,
and Lucky dodged to the side just in time as a panicked camel raced by, pursued
by a Turk in baggy black pants.
The roaring became louder and he wondered if it might
be an airplane coming in too low, perhaps in trouble and about to crash. Then
people were running past him, heading down the hill for the main street. Lucky
followed.
At the corner, he saw that the sidewalks on both sides of the main thoroughfare were lined with people of all kinds, including shop keepers who stood guard in their doorways. The street itself was oddly empty – not one wagon or bicycle or ox cart could be seen.
At the corner, he saw that the sidewalks on both sides of the main thoroughfare were lined with people of all kinds, including shop keepers who stood guard in their doorways. The street itself was oddly empty – not one wagon or bicycle or ox cart could be seen.
Lucky noticed that everyone was looking toward the
Famagusta Gate. He saw other boys shinnying up light stanchions – getting up
higher so they could see better. Lucky spotted a likely perch for himself and
ran straight toward a store front. He let momentum carry him up the wall, then
he jumped, caught the overhanging sign and swung himself up.
Another boy tried the same thing, faltered, and Lucky stuck out a hand, helping him. Without a word both boys turned to look at the mouth of the Famagusta Gate, now plainly visible. The noise seemed to be coming from the dark, cave-like entrance.
Another boy tried the same thing, faltered, and Lucky stuck out a hand, helping him. Without a word both boys turned to look at the mouth of the Famagusta Gate, now plainly visible. The noise seemed to be coming from the dark, cave-like entrance.
Packs of dogs were crouched on either side – none
were brave enough to stand in the center - barking at whatever approached. Now
Lucky could make a rhythmic beat, underlying the roaring noise. It was a Boom!
Boom! Boom! that shook him to the bones. Then the dogs turned tail and raced
away. A second later a band of gypsies poured out of the tunnel, scattering in
every direction.
The sound grew louder, and now Lucky thought he could
make out people shouting and screaming. He considered jumping down and running
back to the safety of Jim’s shop, but then he saw something swirling at the
gate entrance, like a gigantic swarm of bees, and then suddenly people started
pouring out onto the street.
There were hundreds upon hundreds of them - all shouting and wailing so wildly that Lucky’s blood ran cold. He was afraid to move from his perch, in case he might draw attention.
There were hundreds upon hundreds of them - all shouting and wailing so wildly that Lucky’s blood ran cold. He was afraid to move from his perch, in case he might draw attention.
The crowd paused for moment, as if the gate were
having trouble disgorging them, then more people broke out – unfurling a huge
banner carried on long posts as high as telephone poles. Lucky gaped at what he
saw on the banner. It was a gigantic picture of a man with distinctive features
and a curling mustache.
It was Stalin.
The banner was draped in black and now suddenly Lucky
realized that all the people – men and women and children alike – were wearing
black of some kind. Some were draped head to toe in black, others wore black
armbands, or shirts or scarves.
More people exited the gate – it was like a river of
black cloaked figures. All crying and wailing. He saw men drag their nails down
their faces, leaving bloody streaks. He saw women rip their hair from their
heads by the roots, blood streaming down from the wounds. Bare chested men,
dripping red from self-inflicted wounds, marched with the crowd pounding on
huge drums – boom! boom! boom! And the women cried a shrill and ancient cry:
"Ululululu." A stray and quite bizarre thought leaked from Lucky’s
mind – so this is what Poe meant when he wrote of ululation.
Priests with long beards and high hats marched on the
edges of the crowd, swinging incense pots, and chanting a mournful dirge.
"Oh, no," the boy next to him moaned in
Greek. "Stalin is dead. Oh, no. Oh, no!" And he burst into tears.
Lucky had to steady him so he didn’t fall.
It was then that he realized that this was a funeral
march. That in far off Russia, Stalin had died and the thousands of wailing
people he saw marching down the street were stricken with grief because they
saw Stalin as a hero as great as any in history. Even the priests – and
Communists were godless, weren’t they? – were mourning the death of the man
that had ruled the Soviet Union with an iron fist for more than thirty years.
It took two hours for the funeral procession to pass
and Lucky stayed perched on the post the whole time watching, transfixed.
Then he heard someone shout his name and he looked
down and saw Jim’s worried face.
"I’ve been looking everywhere for you,
Lucky," he said.
"I’m sorry," the boy said, swinging down
from the stanchion. "I should have come back and told you where I
was."
"It was a good thing for you to witness,"
Jim admitted, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You should always remember
how easy it is for people to turn a devil into a saint."
NEXT: RIDING A CAMEL TO SCHOOL
*****
*****
LUCKY IN CYPRUS: IT'S A BOOK!
Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide:
Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:
- "Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas
- "Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus.
- "... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com
*****
THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:
A new novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan
After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.
*****
Here's where you can buy it worldwide in both paperback and Kindle editions:
United Kingdom ...........................Spain
Also: NOOK BOOK. Plus ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS.
TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE
NOW AN AUDIOBOOK!
NOW AN AUDIOBOOK!
 |
Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969
|
In the depths of the Sixties and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is "The Blue Meanie," a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself.
*****
STEN #1: NOW IN SPANISH!
Diaspar Magazine - the best SF magazine in South America - is publishing the first novel in the Sten series in four episodes. Here are the links:
REMEMBER - IT'S FREE!
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