descriptive style draft 2

As the sun sets on a normal Saturday afternoon I sit outside the caravan at the very top of my favorite hill, alone with my thoughts. I like this time of day most, it’s very peaceful and the sun is warm on my face, the wind brushes my hair pleasantly.

I can see most of the our tiny town from my here; it seems everyone has come out to watch my father play cards at a table with a young stranger. It looks as though he has brought his troop with him. Two troops are surrounding this little table. My father’s gypsy troop on one side and the handsome strangers on the other. I watch for a while, everyone seems very somber. Father, King of the Gypsy’s looks up at me, he holds my gaze for no more than a second before looking back down at the table. I can see he feels ashamed about something? It all seems very rude not to call me down to be introduced. This draws the attention of the stranger. He looks at me for what seems a lifetime.

As whispers of the name Max fills the air I breathe I feel suffocated not knowing who this man is playing what appears to be the last game of poker my father will ever play. I’m trying to fight the temptation to run down and demand answers, who is this man everyone seems so cautious of? Why does my father look so worried? So I do, I run down the hill and make it near the table, something stops me going all the way and I turn to the gaze of the Phui-Dae, father’s most loyal group of friends. My questions painted all over my face. Without words we exchanged a thousand, we cannot answer these questions for you Jenny.

Then I hear “you lose!” lose? Max has just won against my father, Max’s troop look extremely pleased and awfully smug. I approach the table and I can hear everything Max’s troop are saying. “That silly girl hasn’t a clue what her father has done. Bow down and let the true king come home. Maya would be spinning in her grave.” I look to them with a pleading gesture and they laugh in my face. I feel sick I don’t know where this is going to take us but right now it doesn’t feel right. My father looks old and weak compared to this young man, I have never seen him look that way. I soon realize there’s more to this than meets the eye.
I reach the table and without realizing it, night has fallen and we are all standing in darkness, the crowds are glowing by candle light. It’s starting to turn cold now. I place my hands on my father’s back. He is sweating. Max asks for a girl as his prize for winning the game. Me and my father exchange looks, Max’s eyes meet mine and I feel butterflies racing not only in my belly but through my veins. He wants me. He points and says “just your girl will do me fine” objection forced from my father makes him stand tall and he towers in front of me. Max edges closer and whispers..“I gave you time to pay your debt, for thirty years I cried your name I will not give you one more hour I cannot save you from your shame” and then I understand they know each other, but how? From thirty years ago. My heart is asking my brain the questions and I seem to be getting them right.

Before I can speak to myself any more I hear “ you left her sir to weep alone, you left her sir to face the knife” gasps from every angle of hearing, it seems time has stood still. Father tries to explain he loved this woman and with that Max glances at me and then leaves in a rage. Leaving me alone with my father sitting at a table. It is just us now, all is still and people are leaving. I cannot control myself, question after question is being fired at him, “who is he? What happened thirty years ago? Who died? Who do you love? You never told me you loved anyone.” I’m not even giving him a chance to answer. I’m shaking his arm but he seems so heavy. I beg for answers. “Leave me be jenny” I will not. “Answer my questions, I love you don’t shut me out, let me help” he ignores me and turns his head away. “I just want to help” and with that he roars at me “GO!” and suddenly I realize it’s not that the night that has brought darkness.