RAFAEL SAYS COPYRIGHT 2013 RZEVANS
"Rafael says, Rafael says, I don't want to hear that again, ever in this house," shouted Pabllo as he shook his fist in his grandson's face. "I am an old man; I am seventy-one years. I have seen it all. It was much worse when I was young. Be content boy, enjoy the fiestas and the girls, and don't cause us trouble." Pablo's anger had his heart racing to the point that his chest was hurting.
"Rafael says that is what is wrong with the people. They don't realize that it is time to rise up and demand a better life," returned Marco, sneering at his grandfather.
The old man picked up a small clay pot and hurled it at the boy, barely missing his head, Get out, get out, and don't come back tonight."
Pablo sat down and put a hand ovr his heart, hoping he could stop the racing. A few minutes later he felt calm enough to lie down, close his eyes, and say a prayer for the foolish young men that were courting the wrath of the powerful. A fly which became too pesky would soon be squashed. These young people had thick skulls; you couldn't tell them anything.
Two days later, Pabllo was sitting in front of his home, his old chair propped precariously against the wall, when suddenly, Cruzita ran around the corner shouting that the soldiers were coming. The street quickly becme vacant, and Pablo went into his house and bolted the door. In a few minutes , he heard loud voices, one shot, and all was quiet.
They ushered the old man into a room that was halved by a wall of bars. Other visitors were standing nearby, and several prisoners were standing on the cell side, some holding onto the bars. Pablo was tired from the long walk, but there was no place to sit. He aproached the bars and recognized one of the prisoners as Marco, unshaven and dirty.
"Rafael says they'll have to let us out soon. We didn't do anything wrong; they can't hold us here without a triall."
Pablo gave Marco a package of food that the guards had already inspected. He turned and headed for the door, shaking his head. Rafael says, Rafael says. He had seen such trials in the village; it would be a display, to serve as a warning to the people that agitation would not be tolerated.
Crude calls and laughter accompanied the appearance of the soldiers in the village. But then things became quieter as a list of charges were read aloud, and one by one, each of the six prisoners was brought to a table set up in the corner of the square. The judges listened and scribbled. Rafael said, Rafael said, Rafael said, Rafael said, Rafael said. Five of the prisoners were put back into the prison wagon, and it slowly moved down the road to twenty years of hard labor. That night no sounds of struggle came from the prisoner bound to the large post in the square. As the early sun began to brighten the day and the outline of the buildings around the square became distinct, Pablo heard what sounded like a single shot, and all was quiet.
"Rafael says, Rafael says, I don't want to hear that again, ever in this house," shouted Pabllo as he shook his fist in his grandson's face. "I am an old man; I am seventy-one years. I have seen it all. It was much worse when I was young. Be content boy, enjoy the fiestas and the girls, and don't cause us trouble." Pablo's anger had his heart racing to the point that his chest was hurting.
"Rafael says that is what is wrong with the people. They don't realize that it is time to rise up and demand a better life," returned Marco, sneering at his grandfather.
The old man picked up a small clay pot and hurled it at the boy, barely missing his head, Get out, get out, and don't come back tonight."
Pablo sat down and put a hand ovr his heart, hoping he could stop the racing. A few minutes later he felt calm enough to lie down, close his eyes, and say a prayer for the foolish young men that were courting the wrath of the powerful. A fly which became too pesky would soon be squashed. These young people had thick skulls; you couldn't tell them anything.
Two days later, Pabllo was sitting in front of his home, his old chair propped precariously against the wall, when suddenly, Cruzita ran around the corner shouting that the soldiers were coming. The street quickly becme vacant, and Pablo went into his house and bolted the door. In a few minutes , he heard loud voices, one shot, and all was quiet.
They ushered the old man into a room that was halved by a wall of bars. Other visitors were standing nearby, and several prisoners were standing on the cell side, some holding onto the bars. Pablo was tired from the long walk, but there was no place to sit. He aproached the bars and recognized one of the prisoners as Marco, unshaven and dirty.
"Rafael says they'll have to let us out soon. We didn't do anything wrong; they can't hold us here without a triall."
Pablo gave Marco a package of food that the guards had already inspected. He turned and headed for the door, shaking his head. Rafael says, Rafael says. He had seen such trials in the village; it would be a display, to serve as a warning to the people that agitation would not be tolerated.
Crude calls and laughter accompanied the appearance of the soldiers in the village. But then things became quieter as a list of charges were read aloud, and one by one, each of the six prisoners was brought to a table set up in the corner of the square. The judges listened and scribbled. Rafael said, Rafael said, Rafael said, Rafael said, Rafael said. Five of the prisoners were put back into the prison wagon, and it slowly moved down the road to twenty years of hard labor. That night no sounds of struggle came from the prisoner bound to the large post in the square. As the early sun began to brighten the day and the outline of the buildings around the square became distinct, Pablo heard what sounded like a single shot, and all was quiet.