That summer it was as hot as all others summers passed. The Phoenix red flowers were falling down on the schoolyards, schools closed. Some students left for the countryside, and some played with their friends or wandering around the corners. And the little boy was sent to stay with his aunt. The little boy woke up early, opened the door and left the house while all others still in their sleeps. He walked down the road about one kilometer to the local newspaper distributor station. He held a bundle of 25 newspapers, the Lightning. He walked off the distributor station and remembered his cousin said that: “Every where you go, you should yelling loud and clear: Newspaper, newspaper here, the morning Lightning so that people could hear you. Remember that.” The little boy looked around and saw no one, he started yelling with a soft voice: “Newspaper, newspaper here.” He yelling once and then silently walked down the street. He walked back the road where he came from and stopped at the mini market on the street near his aunt’s house. The market was formed on the sides of the street where people displayed food, fruits, and all others. The inviting smelling from all the foods on the street had exiting the little boy stomach and his wish eagerly. But then, the little boy walked fast, fast away from his hungry! The place where the boy lived, every day he had two meals. Some days he felt very hungry, but the food were limit and all were laid on the table. And every one who lived there, for so long now, had eaten very little: two small bows of rice for each meal. And after the meal, all the foods on the table were gone. The boy put down the bow and chopsticks but still hungered, he looked on the table and sadly walked away. The little boy set the newspaper on the street, gathered some ravel stones and placed them on four corners of the papers. He sad aside and tried to sell them as of people selling vegetables. People went to the market saw the newspapers would buy them, he thought, and he thought selling newspapers like selling meat and fish, that’s it. He’s not yelling loud as his cousin told him to, because each time he thinking about yelling loud he felt ashamed. The boy sold 30 cents for each newspaper and he would make 10 cents in profit. It’s passed haft day and he still had not sold even one! The number of people went to the market has become lightened. The boy looked at the newspaper stack, touching the headline, the Lightning, and washed off the street dust on the newspapers. He dreamed of another place far away. There, every day he went to school and played with others kids. There, each day the meal was never felt short, and when the summer comes he walked everywhere on the yellowish rice field, catching dragonfly, picking wild flowers from the mountain. He did not understand the meaning of the phrase self-supported and he was like a little deer. But then one day there were lightning, the lightning from the rockets have burned down the village where he was born. The lightning came from the mountain has faded out his life, and from there he left. The little boy was dreaming of the old place; suddenly a moped dashed through a water hole and wet all of his Lightning newspapers, the water splashed onto his face. The little boy woke up from his dream, the street market vanished with people. The little boy stood up and grabbed the stack of the Lightning newspapers. His eyes were sad; he walked away into the dark alley. DongSaBang.
<bài viết được chỉnh sửa lúc 24.03.2009 04:35:57 bởi DongSaBang >