a very lonely time

The rain never ceased all that afternoon, a strong, fluent rain, and very disturbing. It was not a good rain.

The purple clouds in the sky were always a bad sign in our area, always predicting a fierce storm, electric and suffocating, that makes the hairs at the back of your neck stand and makes it hard to breath. And as the rain floods in big, blue drops, poisonous, you'd right away know this year the food won't grow. And you knew this year is going to be one of hunger and extreme poverty. That you were doomed to watch your well groomed fields overflooded with bad water and know you'd have to wait.

This year the purple clouds held since November. And may was at it's start.

Mary-Ann, a smiley girl, walked peacefully among the ruined growth, never giving her opinion to the stems her feet were stamping, not thinking of the sick earth as she skipped, her joy apparent, as she hummed to herself...

Today was a holiday. Why should I grieve again for my father's poor soil?

Today, for the first time in long, long months, a visitor showed up, very surprisingly, in their old, little barn. A nomad.

A nomad! Such an exciting event diden't happen in a very long time, and so, she couldn't stop smiling and skipping in the filthy mud.

New things were very rare in her everyday poor routine, and so a nomad became an unexpected, never-ending source of joy to her.



The nomad came home in this morning, and I was still busy in my morning chores- Wash the floor, Wash the dishes, Wash the clothes. I swear, I'm the most crinkled-handed girl in the entire world!

I was still busy in my most gigantic mission-Scrubbing at the biggest cauldron in the house, and I had to crawl all the way trough the dark, mysterious depths, and so I dident hear him at first arrive. All I could hear was the everyday, normal voices-Mom's sealed smacks at our only carpet, as she tried to clean all the dust away. Dad's wobbly steps on the wooden floor as he carried around water buckets. And then, all of a sudden those stranger steps! Wobbly as well, and weak and unsteady. And a rusty voice, calling: "Is there someone in hear?"...

I ran to stand next to my mother, staring as my dad greeted the stranger.

"Hello"

"Hello sir, where have you come from?"... And the nomad told him where from, and then dad rushed him inside our barn-house. That's because he came from where the terrible war was happening, which we only heard of months ago, when a very surprised random merchant happened across our lonely, very secluded house.

The nomad sat next to dad, and mom made him a cup of tea, in dad's iron cup (the only cup with a handle). And the nomad told us of his house that he came to once from a long trip, and found his house and family ruint, and dead.

And he said that he has nothing left but himself, and that he was very lonely, and so he started wandering alone.

Mom was very sad and she wept for him, and dad put his hand on her shoulder to calm her down. And they felt pity for the old, lonely nomad, and so they offered him to stay awhile.

I was sent to the nearest village, a few hours away, to get some bread, maybe some milk.

I found not only bread, but also cheese! I was skeeping happily all the way home.

Our barn of a house was not so far away now.

The deep purple clouds in the sky strolled lazily with no wind, and I never paid attention. I saw our house now in the distance, recognizing the tall, gray walls, the red and faded tiles, that were slightly dirty all the time. The high weeds that sprouted all over the place. Our old and shabby wagon, that I never saw a horse in front of. As I got closer, I could see the tiny cracks in the walls. The crooked door that was half open.

The old nomad sat exhausted-looking at the door. Maybe he was hungry, waiting for my return. As he saw me he smiled a very sad smile and nodded his head, and than I remembered that he must be sad, having lost his whole family, and so I stopped smiling and was sad for him, too.

I walked inside the house, ready to declare the daily catch, and then I realized the house was empty.

And when I came out to ask the nomad why, he just said my parents were taken away, never to return, by the cruel, merciless storm, and by the cruel, merciless war. And he said that he was very sad because he know how I feel, because this happened to him, as well.

And I was little and I cried from the sadness of his cruel words. I cried because I always knew, that the war was so greedy. it has stolen so many villages, way souldn't it steal my old barn, as well? And I remmembred, that my dad once told me that the war had no boundaries, and looked so sad. And now I understood what he meant and was very sad, because the boundarless war has come to our littel, deserted barn.

The old nomad hugged me and said, that from now on, all we have is each other, because now I, too, am alone in the world just like him.

And he offered me to travel with him, and give him company, because he was so lonely all the time.

And at the time, I felt so lonely as well. And so I joined him.

And the suffocating air was as poisonouse as ever.