A boy and a tired man

 A boy and a tired man.

 When I was young, receiving a letter was an occasion which was usually accompanied by a special ceremony, a reading ceremony, which was carried out in the main town square. This was not for any special reason, but because in those days learning to read was a great luxury,and the men who could do this would be treated well for there wisdom and skill.
 One summer, when I was not a child, but not old enough to work, a letter was brought to our house, and as my grandfather was away the letter was given to me, and i knew i had to take it to the town. I folded the letter carefully, put it in my trouser pocket and walked out of the house, pulling the stiff door as closed as
it would go, which was not really closed, as the door would warp in the summer and not shut.It would swell also in the winter, and stick in the frame, so we could not open it. There was not really a season when the door would shut well.
 The journey from my house to the town was about five miles, and took maybe half a morning, but it was a pleasant walk. As I set off, i had to walk past the other houses and shacks of the fisherman who lived by us, and you could see in the half shut doors, and see fruit box chairs and tables, and hear people talk or shout, and children laugh and cry. The smells were of cooking and toilets,and the road was a damp brown colour.
 As I moved away from the fishermans huts, i had to cross the little rivers that come in from the sea, and run in towards the town, there were many of these little rivers,and some were fast, but some were very slow and quiet.
 The number of huts got less, and the rivers get wider, and gradually hills developed, grey stoney hills, which start to surround you, until you are walking in a valley shaded from the sun. These grey hillsides are not nice. There comes a point when you think the grey hillsides are all you will ever see, when the way ahead opens like a flower, and an island, a gentle soft green mound spreads out before you, in the middle of the widest of the inland rivers, rising like pregnant stomach from the water. When I saw this, I knew I was safe. On this day, as I crossed the little island, I saw two people sat on the dusty path. There was a boy with dark hair, who liked all the friends i ever played with, and a tired man. As I approaced them I said, "hello". The boy looked up, but the tired man just sat and looked at his dusty toes. I wanted them to talk, but what I really wanted was to put off the reading of the letter. To have a letter is something of great excitement, but after it has been read, it is just a piece of paper, it has no more reason to be. They didn't talk to me, though, the boy looked back down and the man took a bottle from the leather satchel he was wearing, so I walked on.
 From the green island, I had to cross the other side of the river, the widest part, but it was also the gentlest part, I don't know why. On the far bank, there was anther valley, but thesides of the hills here looked as though they were set with jewels, and they sparkled in the sun, and with the reflections of the water.
 From the bejewelled valley, I could hear the talking and laughing from the town, and hurried to the square. In the town square was a municiple fountain, and it was around here that the men would gather and laugh and drink and gamble.
 As I approached, I heard a comment, and the men started laughing loudly, but I don't know what they said. I found the man my grandfather had asked to read letters before, and gave him the envelope, which he opened. He counted the words, and said, "one penny". I gave him the penny, and he read, the letter to me.
 Sadly, as he read the letter some men started betting on dice, and as I watched them I forgot to listen, and I only realised this when he handed me the paper back. I couldn't ask him to read it again, I had no more money, so I thanked him, and turned to walk home. As I approached the big river again, I screwed the letter up and threw it in the river, I wouldn't tell grandfather we had a letter.
I crossed back to the island, and I could see the boy and the tired man sitting there still, and thought I would speak to them again, really to put off going home.
 I climbed the gentle slope up to them, and I could see them lying in the sun, which was foolish, as it was nearly midday. I approached were they lay, and could see something  strange about them, strange about their legs. Their legs looked wrong, they were folded too tightly under their sleeping bodies. As I saw this, I also saw the bottle the man had taken from his satchel when I passed earlier, and now I coud see it was a bottle of poison. The boy and the tired man were dead, so I left them and  walked toward the grey valley.