Working Title: "Worldly Love"
“Just like a cartoon.” That's what Jon thought as he fell off a cliff. When he woke up he could feel the blood starting to dry on his face. He remembered washing in the stream, tying his shirt around the gash on his head. It didn't stop the blood, though, so he just put the shirt back on. The next thing he remembered, he was following the river through the jungle.
He was in Bolivia teaching English as part of a mission trip for his church. It had been over a month and he couldn't speak Spanish. It was frustrating, and he just needed to get away for awhile.
A short walk from the village was a ridge that looked out over the jungle. From the top of that ridge, Jon could see glimpses of the river below. He went down.
It was late afternoon when he decided to start back to the village. Santiago de Chiquitos. There was nothing else nearby except for mountains and jungle. Dense jungle. Jon couldn't find the path he'd followed down to the river. And he didn't have much time. Being in the jungle overnight was not a possibility in his mind.
When he saw the cliff, maybe 15 or 20 feet at most, he was desperate. He’d climbed about 10 feet up before the sandstone crumbled out from underneath him, condemning him for his youthful . . . he balked as the word “stupidity” came to his mind. Consciously, he re-worked the thought: The sandstone had permitted his adventurous impulse for a commendable 10 feet before it succumbed to the pressure.
The sun was moving more quickly now. He thought he saw a girl leading him through the jungle, but his consciousness was fading in and out so he wasn't sure. Her dark hair and white dress made him think she was a school girl from the village.
"I've never seen such ugly girls," he thought. His girlfriend in America was a pretty blonde California girl. Even though he didn't like his hometown, he wished he were there now. His head was still gushing blood, he was most likely hallucinating, and he thought he heard a puma snarling. Then he saw it up ahead: the path back to the village.
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A short walk from the village was a ridge that looked out over the jungle. From the top of that ridge, Jon could see glimpses of the river below. He went down.
It was late afternoon when he decided to start back to the village. Santiago de Chiquitos. There was nothing else nearby except for mountains and jungle. Dense jungle. Jon couldn't find the path he'd followed down to the river. And he didn't have much time. Being in the jungle overnight was not a possibility in his mind.
When he saw the cliff, maybe 15 or 20 feet at most, he was desperate. He’d climbed about 10 feet up before the sandstone crumbled out from underneath him, condemning him for his youthful . . . he balked as the word “stupidity” came to his mind. Consciously, he re-worked the thought: The sandstone had permitted his adventurous impulse for a commendable 10 feet before it succumbed to the pressure.
The sun was moving more quickly now. He thought he saw a girl leading him through the jungle, but his consciousness was fading in and out so he wasn't sure. Her dark hair and white dress made him think she was a school girl from the village.
"I've never seen such ugly girls," he thought. His girlfriend in America was a pretty blonde California girl. Even though he didn't like his hometown, he wished he were there now. His head was still gushing blood, he was most likely hallucinating, and he thought he heard a puma snarling. Then he saw it up ahead: the path back to the village.
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David crouched in the dirt of the school yard, plotting with his friends, their faces the same color as the ground. They watched the gringo English teacher talking to some kids nearby. When he left, David approached Mateo, the tallest in the group.
"That teacher likes you," he said simply.
"Why do I care?"
"He's doesn't know Spanish! Let's have a little fun with him."
"He's our teacher, David! I don't want to get in trouble."
"Mateo, this teacher isn't like the others. I think he can take a joke."
"Yeah, you're probably right. Let's have some fun. What do you have in mind?"
***********************************************************
The next morning David and Mateo watched carefully as the nuns inspected their classroom.
"Hola mamacita. Que tal?" Jon smiled hos most charming smile as he greeted the Mother Superior. The children struggled not to laugh out loud.
"That teacher likes you," he said simply.
"Why do I care?"
"He's doesn't know Spanish! Let's have a little fun with him."
"He's our teacher, David! I don't want to get in trouble."
"Mateo, this teacher isn't like the others. I think he can take a joke."
"Yeah, you're probably right. Let's have some fun. What do you have in mind?"
***********************************************************
The next morning David and Mateo watched carefully as the nuns inspected their classroom.
"Hola mamacita. Que tal?" Jon smiled hos most charming smile as he greeted the Mother Superior. The children struggled not to laugh out loud.
It was founded as a Jesuit Mission. The train from Santa Cruz stopped frequently as herds of cattle ambled across the tracks. Then you had to take the bus through the mountain roads, narrow ledges with steep cliffs dropping down. Jon noticed several times when the exterior wheels of the bus were partly touching the road, and mostly spinning in mid-air.
4 comments:
Wow wow! I haven't written in ages! I like this beginning. Although the lucky youth of the story seem pretty well traveled. Lucky kids!
Have you written the subsequent parts yet?
Thanks Nathalie! Yeah, I think the beginning might be the only thing with staying power.
No, I haven't written subsequent parts. But the story roughly follows the true story of how Jon's path and my path ultimately intersected. So writing it up is just a matter of the leg work. I will do my darndest not to worry about polish or form or style until I just get it all down. Shouldn't actually be too hard, since I really don't know anything about form or style!! :)
As for lucky well-traveled kids -- yes, Jon and I have both been very lucky in our opportunities for travel. I wish everyone could be so lucky.
I assume these two parts will connect????
You have a rich background going on, but you tell it all instead of show it. I think that if you want to tell this tale, it's going to be more than a short story if you do it justice. Perhaps you might show some of Gabriela's story in a flashback instead of having her tell the whole thing to us.
Romanian dancers. * smile*
Thanks Lisa. Yeah, the telling always has been a drawback of mine. Thanks for the advice. I think the flashback idea will work nicely, and, as you said, extend the story past the short story point. Though I'm not sure I really want to undertake a terribly large writing project. As I said, I've never written fiction ANYthing since high school.
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