New Guy was in the habit to live on the remote island awayed from the Peninsula of Kamchaska. Fishing in dwarf-ish lake from which we lived for the account were our unique means of the foodstuffs. The uncle, considered forward thinking of families because of residence in Quebec, learned us that we also could "shop" by the gross. The uncle brought to young New Guy and to family the old generator and the unusually long set of cables of the jumper. Uncle adjusted the portable right of the machine of an electricity front to the poor two houses of a beach of a bedroom and carefully connected them. To check a stream, the too-confident uncle brought a jaw of the free black and red ends of a cable together. The spark clapped between them, the uncle nodded in the agreement. New Guy was both in expectation of parents and supervision from an entrance, we saw that the uncle stretched a cord to coast of lake and thrown two ends of cables of the jumper in water. There produced a sad, muffled buzz, similarly to the fly caught in an interval in glass and the screen of a window. Then, as far as twilight of arriving night would show us, baby-ish patches of shining have begun the impact floating on a surface of lake.
It was the majority of a fish which New Guy and parents ever saw at once, more then annual value was easily there. The dinner now was served For ever. The uncle only looked out on his performance, any doubt, thinking that he made its good business in the help to family of his sister, his bank of destiny now spilling with a stock. Father, however, his opinion was shaken. All duties he should obey: the beginning morning fishes, constant search of the following good fishing strain, clearing to come home empty handed. Now he could leave his work in coal mine because family could eat. There is no more a closed soot mouth, dressing and eyelided. There is no more wheezing of him is itself to sleep. Father suddenly felt tears well in his eyes, maybe the world floated. In an instant of great delight, father left the party of his wife and the son, stirred a network which was always ready on an entrance, and passed to his suspending fish, measured extraction. New Guy and mother which compare in ecstasy, is proud observe him. The uncle still monitors water, trying to measure how the "a fish by the gross" technics demanded, when his brother-in-law resolutely walked past, to him now and to the future dinners.It borrowed one minute for the uncle to understand precisely that father planned to do. Really it was a rumbling still-on generator which agitated him from his narcissism, looking through his kill. As he lunged to the husband of his sister, the uncle already knew that he will not make it, water would achieve father all over. Instant water lapped against naked foots of father, a muffle crackle and the person of aged years twisted silently in a pain and fallen to water. New Guy would remember movements father briefly made there on fine coast, imposing in the most thin sheet of water. It reminded of a dying fish, only on the contrary: alive water caused curvatures and struggle, not air.
Shocked, dizzy, scared: New Guy, mother, and the uncle were all these things. And as New Guy observed a shout of mother to her brother to switch off the machine of an electricity front, everything that New Guy could do was sit on the entrance and look out on lake, our lake, now dotted with dead. And dead father. New Guy knew, during that moment, that his unique choice should be leaving. Leave this place and succeed mother and fallen father.
Destiny was clear: New Guy would be included in the romance book publication industries. There, demons during this day set in soul could be that killed, and life postponed into the freedom.
The next few hours of my life are ones that will forever change me. Parts of my soul have died; aspects of my person dissipated like wet footprints in summer’s heat. What happened next, what these mini-monsters did to me, was completely unforeseeable. They climbed all over me, on my chest, my face, in my hair. Their feet sunk into my skin, their breath smelled of upturned soil. One of the gnomes positioned himself by my ear and whispered, “Just tell us where the creamer is. You think we’d come here if you didn’t have any? We know you. We know all about you.” Then the four who were standing on my face pried open my eyes, two to an eye. The bubble solution was maneuvered on to my chest and then the rest of the group burrowed under my pillow and propped up my head. I was staring at a bubble wand, its circle filled by moving, soapy colors, with eyes pulled open. It might as well have been the barrel of a gun. Two gnomes from behind the screen of iridescence then took deep breaths and finally exhaled. Bubbles, hundreds of bubbles, hit my eyes.
