Beverly Bailey wins a $50 book voucher, Sheva Butcher wins a $10 phone credit voucher and Dailon Scott wins a $10 phone credit voucher. The winners are asked to submit their addresses and phone numbers to [email protected]
See new questions at end of this episode. They were taken from episode 18, only.
Monkey Say Cool Breeze (Episode 18: Don’t knock the door)
The man with the crocus bag swung over his shoulder maneuvered the narrow track that made the descent more of a challenge on that unusually dark night. He was heading towards the log cabin.
The man with the crocus bag edged toward the log cabin. He was not unaccustomed to trekking through forests at night, though he preferred to do it with a working flashlight. He stood for a brief moment, turned the flashlight towards his face and inspected its fading light, before shaking it and knocking it furiously as if he expected it to respond to his admonition that there be more light.
The man with the crocus bag was unafraid of the dark. Even as a young boy, when most children his age were afraid of darkness and preferred to fall asleep by the glow of a light, he found the light an intrusion and looked forward to laying in the darkness. When darkness had yet to fall, he would close his eyes to his eyes’ own darkness.
The darkness had been his friend as a child, hiding the tears that flooded his eyes, inundated his lashes, rolled down his cheeks and soaked his pillow each night.
The man with the crocus bag hadn’t been surprised to see the log cabin in the woods. It was a pastime for many persons to retreat to their cabins over the weekends. He tried to avoid unnecessary human contact, but was finding that with more people choosing to build cabins, it was becoming harder to do so on his trips to the woods.
He heard a rustle that sounded like it was coming from the trees and looked up. He couldn’t see anything. It was probably a small animal, he thought. He pointed his light in the direction of the sound, but it was useless. The trees around that section of the forest were much taller and more robust looking than those where he had started off earlier in the day. Some of them were probably centuries old. Some of them stood well over a hundred feet, their branches locked in embrace; it would take a fair amount of time, much of which he didn’t have, to trace which branch belonged to which tree.
He thought he had heard a scream earlier in the day. It was a shrill sound that rose above the ruffle of the leaves, the dancing of the trees, the singing of the birds, and the chatter of the squirrels and the flowing of the streams. It could be the wind, he thought, or a trapped animal. He wasn’t certain that it was human.
The man with the crocus bag had parked his car too far back to even consider turning around. He would continue to maneuver the track that was to lead him to the log cabin. It didn’t seem like it was a long way off from where he was, but he knew that it would be another hour or more before he would manage to get to it. He had already fallen twice and had a dozen near falls, yet he persistently stumbled his way through the dark forest.
He stood in his tracks. He didn’t move. He didn’t bat an eyelid. That scream again.
Chillness enveloped him. The man with the crocus bag hadn’t heard a more anguished sound in his lifetime. He had heard many screams before.
Ramnarine closed the door to his apartment and untied the lacings of his work boots before slipping them off and leaving them at the door. He had just worked a double shift and was looking forward to the weekend spending some time with Christine. He was still undecided whether he would travel to Trinidad for his two weeks vacation or whether he would use it to start looking for a new house.
He threw himself down on his bed. He was between sleep and wake, and thinking about how relaxing a trip to TNT would be, when the doorbell rang.
Ramnarine reluctantly made his way to the door, preferring to be undisturbed after a hard day’s work. He was hoping it wasn’t the Jehovah Witness people who liked to appear whenever he was about to rest. Or, maybe it was someone who had something to sell, he cursed under his breath.
Ramnarine opened the door a notch, intending to get a glimpse of who it was before deciding whether to accommodate them. It was the Police.
“We think we have found your wife, sir.”
- Which religious people did Ramnarine not want to knock on his door?
- On which island was Ramnarine hoping to spend his vacation?
- Who did Ramnarine want to spend time with and how did they meet?
- Who did Ramnarine not wish to be at his door and who was at his door?
- Describe how it was for the man making his way through the forest that night. What were some of the challenges he had?
Submit answers to [email protected] along with your telephone number and address.
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