As far as one could see stretched the shimmering sands of the Sahara. The fury of the day seemed to beat upon the earth and the burning glare of the desert set weaving heat-waves into motion above the shifting hillocks, which the scorching wind swept into being and inevitably demolished with its swaying motion

Hurt, Virginia

Digital Commons @ Butler University

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTSALFONSE TAPIA"A Penny for your thoughts."What could I answer, when, in reality,I had been thinking of absolutely nothing.I was just looking at nature; nature whohas always done something to me. I can-not put my finger on it, but I can feel itvaguely with a certain weakness thatcauses a disengagement from the powers ofdescription. As mysterious as night itself;like the flame glowing in the fireplace, orthe tobacco smoke, lazily drifting along tonowhere. It is in that way that I watchthe always vanishing 'something' that isforever there in nature.Even as a little boy I must have felt itwhen I used to sit up in bed and stare atthe vast darkness through my bedroomwindow as my elbows rested on the windowsill. Usually my thoughts were worries.Most likely I had "skipped" school that dayand I was concerned only with the punish-ment that was sure to follow if my secretwere unfolded. Yet, in a way, I was happybecause I felt that it was worth it. Soon,as the beauty of the night took command,my worries would gradually thin out andpresently I could hear the crickets singingtheir same song over and over again. Thetall grass would rustle and moan in thenight breeze. Perhaps I would see a rabbitgo merrily bouncing up and down as itdodged bits of shrubbery that rose from thedamp-smelling earth. Or perhaps the moonwould be at work with her white beam,casting dim silhouettes here and there.Little images of the moon would gentlytwinkle in the reflection from the smoothand glassy surface of the leaves, whichseemed to play with the little glimmeringspots of a moonlight night. Or again, amuffled horn of a distant automobile break-ing through the grave-still night where thefireflies danced, blinked, and danced again.Then, suddenly, the slow murmur ofvoices coming from the porch of the house,which had been taking a back seat duringthis time, would be interrupted by thescraping of chairs on the tile floor, thuswarning me of my mother's approach. Andso, I would scamper under my sheet andmake believe that I was sleeping as Ishould have been two hours ago. After afew clickings and shuttings of doors andwindows, mother would shyly tiptoe intomy room, kiss me on the forehead, tuck thesheet around me a bit cozier, and gentlytiptoe out again.Restful assurement of the world atpeace, sprinkled with the grains of sandspread by the Sandman, came upon me asthe song of the crickets grew fainter andfainter; as my eyelids became heavier andheavier . " . as mysterious as the nightitself; like the flame glowing in the fire-place, or the tobacco smoke, lazily driftingalong to nowhere.LIBYAweaving heat-waves into motion above theshifting hillocks, which the scorching windswept into being and inevitably demolishedwith its swaying motion.VIRGINIA HURTAs far as one could see stretched theshimmering sands of the Sahara. The furyof the day seemed to beat upon the earthand the burning glare of the desert set-43-Not a sound came from the driftingsand, not a whisper from the breath ofwind, not a single voice of nature in allthat vast expanse, but at intervals thesilence was shattered by the echoing emptybooms of bombs, and between them, faintly,monotonously, came the beat, beat, beat, ofdrums. White men may carryon warfareagainst other white men and great issues beso decided, but the torpid flow of nativelife persists undisturbed! Magic was beingmade, or the entrance of another soul intothat unknown realm of spirits was beingheralded by the insistant rhythm of thosedrums. A feeling of suspense, of suppres-sed fear, hovered over the empty world; asense of impending disaster, soon to arrive,pressed suffocatingly upon scorched earth.To the khaki-clad humans, it seemedthey were like two tiny ants inside a greatbrass bowl-trapped, but exposed to whatdangers! Yet there was nothing aroundthem, only the weird throb of the unseendrums and the far-off, hollow explosions!The tropical sun traveled higher in its pathacross the sky, with an ever increasingglare upon the white reflection of sand.Stillness hung in the air like an evil genie.At last one of the men stirred, yawned,and raised himself slightly to address theother."Tsye, Bill, this is a ripping goodmystery story in the Sa.turday EveningPost!"ABOUT DEFEATJEAN EBELINGThere they lay, slung back in a corner,discarded from any future use, and lookingas if every ounce of strength and good willhad been wrung from their very soles.Only a few months before, that old pair ofshoes could have held up its laces andthrown back its tongue, unshamefullyencountering any other pair of shoes-eventhose of the higher priced class.At present, this dilapidated footwear,thankful for the secluded refuge, wasembarrassed for itself knowing that its oncecrisp and neat tongue now drooped wearilyover the side of the shoe like that of a dogwhen gasping for its last breath. The rub-ber heels had taken on a defeated look,worn down at the edges to mere paper thin-ness from many miles of hard trudging. Asmall nail, which as a means of revengehad worked its way to the interior of theshoe, had punctured the heel of the wearerand was now flattened down to sufficientsmoothness.The high polish characteristic of newshoes had been dulled by acute neglect,fall rains, and winter snows. The oncestrong and sinewy laces lay limp and be-draggled, their length broken at intervalsby hastily and sloppily tied knots.Only the toes had made a last, ratherfutile effort at being brave and enduringtheir inevitable fate with some show ofcourage. As a last stab at the cruel world,they had feebly turned up whether throughtheir own strength or encouraged by anexcess of moisture during those final daysof drudgery. The creases formed in thedry, cracked leather by this curling upsupplied a somewhat whimsical effect tothis completely exhausted footwear. Finallythey had been freed from their captivityand were content to await total destruction.-44-

Libya

http://digitalcommons.butler.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1134&context=manuscripts

Libya

Abstract

Similar works

Full text

Available Versions

Digital Commons @ Butler University