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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1300190-Sailing-With-An-Island
by Breeze
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Cultural · #1300190
Do you ever feel like just leaving?
It was such a hot night that, to feel a little bit of breeze on their faces, people could make a deal with devil.  However no body was trying to do that. Instead, they swearing at the present government, the situation of the world, global warming, teachers being on strike etc.

The electricity was on and off, withinin five minutes. There was some major problem in the electricity lines. (The grids had molten due to hot weather). It was taking one and a half hours to iron a shirt that was to be worn the next day. Electrical appliances were breaking down due to voltage differences. No body dared to open the Tv, or air conditioning. (Repairman were the best to benefit from this situation of course...) People used old newspapers and magazines to cool both their body temperatures and tempers.Everyone was nervous, ready to argue on little things. Luckily, I had no body to fight with that night.

Food was going bad even though they were in fridge. Short of electricity, people had no idea what to do with food so that they decided to deal with food later and ran to their balconies where the chances of feeling a desperate movement of cool air was higher.

So there I was sitting in front of our front door, in the garden, desperate to breathe in cold air.I was starting to feel numb because of the humidity, my lungs were feeling as if they were shrinking with each breathe. No body had energy to talk; The whole country was asleep as if some magician had cast some spell on us.

Deathly silence was broken by a group of instruction workers whom I had no idea why they were here at this time of the night. They walked in front of our iron gates. standing around now what seemed like a giant, black deep hole. The waterpipes of our city were being renewed, however it was not the time of the workers to come here. At 10:30 pm, no worker could see what he was doing, no light, no work.

One of the men who looked like in charge of the others started the engine of a generator. A car exhaust like smell filled the air, the machine was working noisily. I was sure people could hear it clearly five blocks away. Ahead was a welding machine. It was shining the deep ditch with red lights.

The workers continued to work in silence, sometimes talking to each other, very obviously sick of this weather. I wanted to go and tell them to stop, it was irritating to hear that noise and that repuslive smell was choking me. However I couldn't say anything. Not just beacuse I couldn't be bothered to have an argument with them (for they wouldn't want to stop if they were getting paid for these extra hours), but also because I was intimidated by their look in the middle of the night. My husband had gone out of country so I decided not to act spontaneously.

Another hot blast of air shaked me to my bones. I felt in the mouth of a dragon, craving for and furious with revenge. No one can understand this feeling, if they haven't felt it.

Yellow lights flashed at the beginning of street and came towards me. It was the insecticide car of the municipality. Every night, this man drove this car wandering in streets and spraying insecticides (so that the insects could find their way to our homes more easily, flying away from the roads!).

I immediately moved back into the house. This was the destiny of the insecticide-man. Whoever saw it, retreated as quickly as possible, running for their life. I wasn't the brightest student in school but I had been taught what those things they were spraying could do to you.

Without electicity, I decided to sleep early. My left foot was itching, annoyingly. Probably a mosquito or an ant had bitten me while I was in the garden. I ignored it, knowing that getting some sleep would be as hard if I never had been bitten.
                                                        *
I could feel the cold wind, feeling really happy after 2 months of hell. My boat was sailing with safety. Slow, but safe. I reached the cape that I wanted to go. For some reason I knew the directions miraculously. Closer and closer to the land, I sailed and found a thick rope, tied  strongly on Apostolos Andreas, an ancient worshipping site. Exactly knowing what to do, I tied the end of the rope to my small vessel (when had I learned to tie a sailors' knot?). 

I was pulling the island and the boat was gliding on the water with an ease, as if there wasn't an island at the other end. We got out of the mediterranean, I was leading to a cooler sea where the temperature was less than 51.8 decree C, hoping that a new sea could bring us a better, mosquitoless, generatorless, peacefull island, lacking the barbed-wires. 
That would be a turning point in the life of the island, Cyprus...
© Copyright 2007 Breeze (breeze_13 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1300190-Sailing-With-An-Island