Six Sixes from Belize
Rob, Here are 6 pieces, including one from me, that were written in August 2010 during a creative writing class I gave in my house in San Jose Nuevo Palmar Village, Belize, Central America. The four students were definitely the "best and the brightest" in our school. These stories went through multiple, multiple edits; the words all belong to the students. We read many, many, many 6S pieces together and analyzed the technique before and during the process of producing these stories. I will also try to send the photo we had taken, too. But it will probably be in a separate email. ~ Di COVER PHOTO (L-R) Diane Brady (teacher) Olive Velasquez (taller than Di in pick shirt) Alexi Escalante (arms crossed with pink headband) Howard Tillet (obviously the only boy) Jessica Perez (shortest at far right)
THE WISH by Olive Velasquez
One night, Andy sat on the front steps of his house, dreaming about the puppy with the reddish coat and brown eyes in the pet store; he looked through the window every day after school and watched her play; sometimes the shop owner waved at him from the counter. When Andy got home from school one afternoon, he asked his mother if he could buy a dog, and as soon as she said “yes,” he rushed to his bedroom, grabbed his piggy bank and counted his savings. The next day, Andy went inside the pet store, opened his backpack and placed five dollars on the counter; but the owner shook her head and said, “No. That’s not enough;” heartbroken, Andy cried as he walked home and wished he could buy that puppy. He continued to walk by the pet store every day after school but one day the puppy was gone. The owner saw his nosed pressed into the glass, went to the door and asked Andy to step inside; then she went to the back room for a few minutes; Andy was confused until he
saw the shop owner return with a wet puppy wrapped in a towel; “I would like you to have this puppy,” she said, “because I know you’ve wanted her for a long time.” That evening, Andy had fun with his new friend and decided to name the puppy “Miss Wagner” after the shop owner; he couldn’t wait to tell her the next day after school.
ICE CREAM by Jessica Perez
I am standing at Ashley’s front door on a hot, humid day, holding a bag with two cups of chocolate ice cream, wondering if she will still be my friend; all summer I played with twin sisters who moved into my neighborhood; I never went to see my best friend, who lives a mile away. I ring the bell and Ashley opens the door; she frowns and seems confused. “Can I come in?” I say; Ashley nods. “What’s dripping out of your bag?” “Something I want to give you,” I reply, handing it to her. We talk about her summer and how much she missed playing with me, and I tell her about the twins she’ll meet on the first day of school next week; by this time, our ice cream is melted, so we hold our cups high and make a toast; “let’s drink to friendship,” we say together.
THE HOUSE by Howard Tillett
I was driving in the village looking for a house to buy, when I saw the perfect place – it had beautiful flowering bushes, orange and mango trees on either side and a cedar tree in the front and, to my surprise, the house was for sale; I called the number on the sign, and the owner showed me the inside of the house; it was going to require a lot of work but I needed a home immediately; “how much are you asking?” I said; “five thousand dollars – it’s for my wife’s medical expenses.” I moved in early that afternoon, happy and satisfied with the great deal, and started cleaning and dusting; there were spider webs everywhere and gecko droppings, dead rat bats, abandoned pigeon nests, an old TV and torn couch; I washed the bathroom walls, shower and scraped a thick grim off the mirror; in the bedroom, I shook bugs off the old mosquito net over the bed and then swept the entire house a second time. It was after midnight, and I was exhausted, but I could not sleep; there was no wind
outside yet the house seemed to creak and sway; I heard footsteps approaching my bed so I tried to get out from under the mosquito net but felt trapped; finally, I covered my face with the sheet and fell asleep. I spent half of the next day cleaning the old kitchen and then went shopping for food; for dinner I cooked rice and beans with pigtail, mashed potatoes and also prepared a vegetable salad; that evening I watched a scary movie on TV and, again, went to bed after midnight. I couldn’t stop thinking about the movie, and as I looked at the ceiling, I saw the shadow of an old man; when I rubbed my eyes the shadow moved to the next room, so I got out of bed and followed the vision; there was a noose hanging from the beam, and I tried to touch it but my hand went right through; I ran out of the house to sleep in my car. The next day I asked my neighbors about the house, and they told me the owner’s father had committed a terrible crime and, while he was out on bail, he killed himself in one of the bedrooms; I put the “For Sale” sign back outside in the yard that same afternoon.
LAST SATURDAY by Olive Velasquez
Gabrielle and three classmates – Mary, Samantha and Janet – were sitting at a picnic table by the river, eating lunch and talking about their summer vacations; it was the last Saturday before school opened again. Janet turned to look at the river and recognized three village boys, all troublemakers, crossing the footbridge nearby; she alerted her friends, and they hoped they wouldn’t be bothered; suddenly, the ringleader grabbed an opened bag of tortilla chips and took a handful before passing it to his brother; the other boy helped himself to a piece of fried chicken from Mary’s plate. “Stop it,” said Gabrielle; “go away and just leave us alone.” “We’re not leaving until our bellies are full,” said the ringleader. At that point, Samantha motioned to her friends to leave the picnic table; “I have an idea,” she whispered; “my mom gave me some money this morning, so let’s go get ice cream.” While the troublemakers ate the lunch, the girls headed
back into the village, all agreeing to not let what happened ruin their day together.
IN TEN YEARS by Alexi Escalante
I was riding my bicycle to go visit a friend when I saw the driver of a small red car throw a plastic bottle of CocaCola into the street; it made me very angry, and I stopped riding and wondered if he knew what he had done. Everywhere I look in Belize I see garbage – in drains along the roads, in front yards, along the riverfront, in empty lots and on the sidewalks; I wish for a clean Belize. In the evening, my family watches the local news on TV, and there are always stories about murders, robberies, gang fighting and drugs; I wish for a peaceful Belize. I worry if there will be enough jobs in the future for high school and college graduates – teachers, lawyers, bankers, shop keepers; I wish for more opportunities in Belize. My aunt, neighbor, cousin and friends travel on old school buses to Chetumal and Merida, Mexico for medical treatment because the care isn’t available here; I wish for modern hospitals in Belize. I want to help educate the people in my country, but I must start in my own village; I
want to get my friends together and start making banners and posters about putting trash in its proper place, and I would like to convince the primary school graduates to continue their studies; I am hoping in ten years I will live in a better Belize.
THE COLOR PURPLE by Diane Brady
She stands on a cement bench in the Central Plaza, an aging young woman in a painted face, a sad clown with long purple hair streaked red and brown, wild eyes and a voice that wails over the reggae from speakers nearby. The townspeople ignore her; the tourists whisper and take secret photographs; the children point and laugh in Spanish, their mothers pulling them closer as they walk past. If you ask any vendors surrounding the plaza they will tell you she is possessed with the devil and that it came on suddenly two years ago after the night young children dress up and ask for treats. “It was horrible,” says an old man selling tacos; “the bus struck her daughter in the crosswalk over there; the driver was distracted; he said he never saw the little girl in the yellow costume and purple wig.” The woman leaps from the bench and twirls around on the cracked sidewalk with arms outstretched, faster and faster, almost losing her balance with the tight circles. Later that night, when only
stray dogs roam the plaza and drunken men stagger from the bars, the woman will sit curled on the bench, arms wrapped tightly around her legs, rocking silently, her painted face washed by tears and a gentle rain.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS Olive Velasquez is 13 years old and attends Muffles College High School in Belize, Central America. Jessica Perez lives in San Jose Nuevo Palmar Village in Belize, Central America. She is 11 years old. Howard Tillett is 12 years old and attends Orange Walk Technical High School in Belize, Central America. Alexi Escalante is 12 years old and attends San Jose Nuevo Palmar R.C. School in Belize, Central America. Diane Brady served as a U.S. Peace Corps Volunteer in Belize, Central America from 2008-2010.
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