Prophet's Flowers

[beroq]

One day my people made a decision. We have to go. Yes, we must go. But we know we cannot exist without ourselves. But we should go. And then they looked up at the high mountains of their beloved country where only they and the eagle could survive. They decided to move on and only to carry the young future of their children and the old future of theirs.
One man said, "Our children can get used to it. What will become of us? Will we be able to get rid of ourselves easily?"
"You have to. Why don't you understand? We have to. Does a man who is not chased escape?"
"No."
"Understand! They are after us. They want to kill us. But we are scared of death only for our children. This is not cowardice. We should gather all the strength we have and run away."
Everything is as tangled as the road itself. We are walking on without leaving one inch of road behind. We have strong and agile horses. As we rode on, the road accumulates in us and our load becomes heavier. We are alone and wretched in the kingdom of high mountains. There are anger and
silence on our faces and the confusion of a decision that we are not sure if it is right or wrong.
"Lord! My heart is torn to pieces with sorrow! I have left many things behind that I know I will never see again. My memories. They were too heavy to take along and all were left behind."
Some people had taken along their most precious memories. But at every step to the uncertainty, they had to leave part of them. Now, they have too few memories with them but their hearts are heavier. Before the sunrise, they will have lost everything.
"This is for our children. But do we have the right to do so? Do we have the right to decide on their behalf? Is it fair?"
We sacrificed our souls. We are lost since we left our land. Can we go back again? No. We shall die in the foreign lands and leave our children alone and unprotected.
Now they are moving in a deep pass among the mountains. The moonlight is hitting the huge granite rocks and the broken pieces of gleam are pouring over them. The faces of the men are splashed with light. The teeth are gritted. The hands are clenched. They look in a great fury and wave their fists against the ill omened screams of the night. As the wind blows and as they look up at the peaks, and as they feel the earth under their soles, they get hardened. They don't want to think about anything now.
"Is it possible? The man on the road for no clear reason can't help thinking."
"Try and move without thinking too much. This is no good now. Close your eyes and remember nothing."
An old man had cried for a long time soon after they set off and, until very recently, kept grumbling. Now he was silent and thoughtful. He was carrying a little boy in his arms. After a short while he looked down at him and murmured. The lean man with long arms beside him cocked his ears and tried to make out what he was saying to the child.
"What are you doing, old man?" he asked. "Are you talking to the kid?"
The old man didn't looked at him and remained silent.
"It is no good for you, old man," said the man with long arms.
"You mind your own business," the old man said shrewishly.
"But you are talking to a little boy. This is no good for you. We are on the road and supposed to keep our reason."
"I don't need it," said the old man.
"You need it for the little boy in your arms."
The old man had a short and stubby beard and deep blue eyes that looked directly and sharply. Now he fixed his gaze on the man beside him. "Are you sure you know what is good for him?"
The man with long arms did not think too long. "I guess all of us know this."
"Tell me. Tell me what is good for him."
"He deserves to have a chance to start afresh. If you can't be with him when he needs you, he will not be able to find a chance to do so. Just keep living and this is good for him. Just keep living. Don't kill yourself too early. Don't be selfish, old man. Keep alive for that little boy."
The old man laughed silently. His blue eyes were still sad and sharp. "You folk are too quick to unearth the pretexts that all the failed, beaten and downtrodden cowards of the world left behind."
"We are no cowards," said the man with long arms. This was more statement than an objection. He was not angry at all. "What is easier today is let ourselves be killed by the enemy," he continued. "To allow ourselves to be killed is no chivalry now. We have to live so that our children have the chance to dream of the day when they will return and take back what we are now losing."
"I don't care about the future. I do care about now and about this child in my arms. I'm afraid. I'm afraid to be judged by him."
"No one will judge you, old man," the man with long arms spoke assuredly. "They will understand."
"They will be lost if they are not killed," said the old man and his blue eyes filled with tears of helplessness. "God, oh God!" he groaned. "I don't ask why. I ask for help. Give me a reason to keep on walking."
"You have your reason, old man. God has given you a reason. You are holding it in your arms."
"I don't want to go," said the old man and stopped suddenly. "I don't want to go" All the men in the caravan stopped and looked back.
"Calm down now," said the man with long arms. "Don't do something you will repent later."
"I'm doing the right thing."
"Think of the child."
"I do. What we are doing now is not the right thing to do. We should stay."
"No, old man. We should live. Live to come back. Live to take back what has been taken from us. Live for our children's future."
"They have no future out there. Their future is right in this land."
"They will be killed here. All of us will be killed if we stay."
The old man shouted and his voice echoed on the granite walls of the dark mountains. "Let them come! Let the enemy come!" He looked down at the child in his arms and his voice became low and soft. "If death is ready to come, I am ready to face him right in my land. I will not face him in someone
else's land."
"But we have to go, old man. We have to leave you alone if you don't come with us."
"You go," said the old man. "Please, go!" His face hardened and filled with pain. "And take the kid with you. Take him. Please take him."
The man with long arms reached for the child in the old man's arms. "Give the child to me."
"I... I..."
"Now you turn back and walk down the trail, old man. We will stand here and watch you disappear."
"I have just named him," said the old man. "Please take good care of him. Please tell him about his grandfather. Tell him about his land. Don't let him forget me. Please tell him not to judge me."
"I will," said the man with long arms. "I promise. Now you go, old man. You go back and we will go forth."
The old man remained still for a moment. Then he straightened his back and turned back sharply. The group of men watched him silently. Just before he disappeared in the darkness, the man with the child in his long arms shouted after him. "Hey, old man! Stop! Tell me the name you have given to the kid."
"Beroq," the voice of the old man answered back. "Beroq!"
The man with long arms smiled at the child and spoke softly to him. "You are not a lucky kid but you can be. He gave a you a great name."

[prendrelemick]

Another interesting and thought provoking read, Baroq.

At the beginning you use an interesting device of having dialogue without a specific character to speak it, a kind of collective voice. It works well, it makes the tale seem legendary. You also personalize your narrator, it gives the story veracity.

I found the delivery of some of your ideas a little confusing, this is not so suprising as they are quite complex. There were also the odd very small mistake in grammer and english useage, but not enough to spoil a great piece of writing.

[beroq]

Another interesting and thought provoking read, Baroq.

At the beginning you use an interesting device of having dialogue without a specific character to speak it, a kind of collective voice. It works well, it makes the tale seem legendary. You also personalize your narrator, it gives the story veracity.

I found the delivery of some of your ideas a little confusing, this is not so suprising as they are quite complex. There were also the odd very small mistake in grammer and english useage, but not enough to spoil a great piece of writing.

Thanks for your very comprehensive comment on the story, prendrelemick. They are always very helpful and sincere.

I really would like to know the parts of the story where some grammatical mistakes occur. That would help me see and correct them and improve my writing.

Thanks!

[prendrelemick]

Baroq, you are a much better writer than me, However, here are some things I spotted. I am not an expert and could be wrong. I think you need to sort out the tense of the narrative voice in particular. my suggestions are in blue.

I like the thought of a "young future" and "old future" by the way:)


One day my people made a decision. We have to go. Yes, we must go. But we know we cannot exist without ourselves. But we should go. And then they looked up at the high mountains of their beloved country where only they and the eagle could survive. They decided to move on and only to carry the young future of their children and the old future of theirs. (their own)
One man said, "Our children can get used to it. What will become of us? Will we be able to get rid of ourselves easily?"
"You have to. Why don't you understand? We have to. Does a man who is not chased escape?"
"No."
"Understand! They are after us. They want to kill us. But we are scared of death only for our children. This is not cowardice. We should gather all the strength we have and run away."
Everything is as tangled as the road itself. We are walking on without leaving one inch of road behind. We have strong and agile horses. As we rode (ride)on, the road accumulates in us and our load becomes heavier. We are alone and wretched in the kingdom of high mountains. There are(is) anger and
silence on our faces and the confusion of a decision that we are not sure if it is right or wrong.
"Lord! My heart is torn to pieces with sorrow! I have left many things behind that I know I will never see again. My memories. They were too heavy to take along and all were left behind."
Some people had taken along their most precious memories. But at every step to(towards or into?) the uncertainty, they had to leave part of them. Now, they have too few memories with them but their hearts are heavier. Before the sunrise, they will have lost everything.
"This is for our children. But do we have the right to do so? Do we have the right to decide on their behalf? Is it fair?"
We sacrificed our souls. We are lost since we left our land. Can we go back again? No. We shall die in the foreign lands and leave our children alone and unprotected.
Now they are moving in a deep pass among the mountains. The moonlight is hitting the huge granite rocks and the broken pieces of gleam are pouring over them. The faces of the men are splashed with light. The teeth are gritted. The hands are clenched. They look in a great fury and wave their fists against the ill omened screams of the night. As the wind blows and as they look up at the peaks, and as they feel the earth under their soles, they get hardened. They don't want to think about anything now.
"Is it possible?"The man on the road for no clear reason can't help thinking."
"Try and move without thinking too much. This(IT ?) is no good now. Close your eyes and remember nothing."
An old man had cried for a long time soon after they set off and, until very recently, kept grumbling. You change to the past tense here ) Now he was silent and thoughtful. He was carrying a little boy in his arms. After a short while he looked down at him and murmured. The lean man with long arms beside him cocked his ears and tried to make out what he was saying to the child.
"What are you doing, old man?" he asked. "Are you talking to the kid?"
The old man didn't looked(look) at him and remained silent.
"It is no good for you, old man," said the man with long arms.
"You mind your own business," the old man said shrewishly.
"But you are talking to a little boy. This is no good for you. We are on the road and supposed to keep our reason."
"I don't need it," said the old man.
"You need it for the little boy in your arms."
The old man had a short and stubby beard and deep blue eyes that looked directly and sharply. Now he fixed (Now he fixes, or Then he fixed. what tense are you in?)his gaze on the man beside him. "Are you sure you know what is good for him?"
The man with long arms did not think too long. "I guess all of us know this."
"Tell me. Tell me what is good for him."
"He deserves to have a chance to start afresh. If you can't be with him when he needs you, he will not be able to find a chance to do so. Just keep living and this is good for him. Just keep living. Don't kill yourself too early. Don't be selfish, old man. Keep alive for that little boy."
The old man laughed silently. His blue eyes were still sad and sharp. "You folk are too quick to unearth the pretexts that all the failed, beaten and downtrodden cowards of the world left behind."
"We are no cowards," said the man with long arms. This was more statement than an objection. He was not angry at all. "What is easier today is (to) let ourselves be killed by the enemy," he continued. "To allow ourselves to be killed is no chivalry now. We have to live so that our children have the chance to dream of the day when they will return and take back what we are now losing."
"I don't care about the future. I do care about now and about this child in my arms. I'm afraid. I'm afraid to be judged by him."
"No one will judge you, old man," the man with long arms spoke assuredly. "They will understand."
"They will be lost if they are not killed," said the old man and his blue eyes filled with tears of helplessness. "God, oh God!" he groaned. "I don't ask why. I ask for help. Give me a reason to keep on walking."
"You have your reason, old man. God has given you a reason. You are holding it in your arms."
"I don't want to go," said the old man and stopped suddenly. "I don't want to go" All the men in the caravan stopped and looked back.
"Calm down now," said the man with long arms. "Don't do something you will repent later."
"I'm doing the right thing."
"Think of the child."
"I do. What we are doing now is not the right thing to do. We should stay."
"No, old man. We should live. Live to come back. Live to take back what has been taken from us. Live for our children's future."
"They have no future out there. Their future is right in this land."
"They will be killed here. All of us will be killed if we stay."
The old man shouted and his voice echoed on the granite walls of the dark mountains. "Let them come! Let the enemy come!" He looked down at the child in his arms and his voice became low and soft. "If death is ready to come, I am ready to face him right in my land. I will not face him in someone
else's land."
"But we have to go, old man. We have to leave you alone if you don't come with us."
"You go," said the old man. "Please, go!" His face hardened and filled with pain. "And take the kid with you. Take him. Please take him."
The man with long arms reached for the child in the old man's arms. "Give the child to me."
"I... I..."
"Now you turn back and walk down the trail, old man. We will stand here and watch you disappear."
"I have just named him," said the old man. "Please take good care of him. Please tell him about his grandfather. Tell him about his land. Don't let him forget me. Please tell him not to judge me."
"I will," said the man with long arms. "I promise. Now you go, old man. You go back and we will go forth."
The old man remained still for a moment. Then he straightened his back and turned back (Using the same word twice in one sentance is best avoided ) sharply. The group of men watched him silently. Just before he disappeared in the darkness, the man with the child in his long arms shouted after him. "Hey, old man! Stop! Tell me the name you have given to the kid."
"Beroq," the voice of the old man answered back. "Beroq!"
The man with long arms smiled at the child and spoke softly to him. "You are not a lucky kid but you can be. He gave a you a great name."

[beroq]

Thank a lot, prendrelemick. I am really appreciated. I see almost all the suggestions you made are sensible and once they are applied, the story looks better grammatically.

That story had been written a little while ago and I did not pay much attention in publishing it. But I am sure even the most recent ones need some criticism from grammar's standpoint.

Once again, I thank you very much.